by Gary Russell
Tentatively, fearing she might interrupt a meeting, Nyssa eased open the doors to the consul chamber.
It was empty, both of consuls and the Keeper. Although the absence of the latter was not in itself unusual, to find no one at all was unheard of. Someone should have been there, administering the Union, giving the fosters orders or even checking on the Source, the bioelectronic system that powered the harmonious Traken civilisation.
‘Nyssa? Daughter, save me?’
‘Father?’ Nyssa looked to see where her father’s voice came from. He sounded so... lost, so frightened. She hurried out of the chamber and began combing the citadel, hoping to catch a glimpse of Tremas.
Behind her she heard another sound. A dark chuckle that seemed to gloat at her confusion, relishing her distress.
She pushed open a door that she knew should have led back to the garden but which instead revealed a vast whiteness, with no perceptible top or sides. It stretched on and on and...
‘What is this horrendous place?’ she called out. ‘Father, are you there?’
Again, just the chuckle.
She opted to return to the consul chamber but behind her the doorway had become tiny, part of a model of the Traken building, garden and nearby towns. Resting on the other side of the model, grinning insanely, was the face she hated more than anything in the universe.
‘The Master! I should have known you were behind all this.’
The Master chuckled and said nothing. Then his face shimmered, as if caught in a heat mirage, and reassembled as the face of her father with long greying hair and twinkling eyes. For the first time Nyssa could see how similar the Master and her father really were. The figure stood, still dressed in the Master’s velvet suit, but with her kind, compassionate and darling father’s head.
‘Oh Nyssa, it was preordained thus. You must have known that.’
‘No. What do you mean... preordained?’
Tremas’s eyes watered as he tried to smile at her. ‘I’m so sorry I had to leave you, my dear. But it was always going to happen. Two would become one. Even my name is a distortion of his. It was destiny that brought him to Traken, destiny that took you away before he could destroy everything. Destiny that you would find the one man who could separate us, return us to our former selves.’
‘Who?’
Tremas coughed, as if the battle to keep his face was more than he could take. ‘The Doctor, of course. He knows how to do it.’
‘No! No, I asked him. Many times. He said you were dead...
that the Master had destroyed you completely when he used your body to regenerate his own!’
The Master’s face solidified again, blotting Tremas out.
‘Nonsense, girl. The Doctor knows how. He just cannot be bothered. Better to let your father wither away and die than help me, his nemesis. His oldest foe. He simply cannot be bothered.’
And with a final chuckle of malevolence, the Master faded away, leaving Nyssa alone in the sterile realm of nothingness.
She stepped back as the model of Traken suddenly ignited and disintegrated into ashes, which themselves faded away.
Nyssa’s feet touched something and she looked down. It was her toy bear, Big Bear or BeeBee. As she bent over to pick him up, seek comfort in something from home, something familiar and loved and missed, BeeBee seemed to begin growing until he was sitting, life-sized, beside her. Slowly his head turned to face her, his cotton-thread mouth turning upwards in a smile.
‘Hello, Miss Nyssa,’ he said in a booming voice, exactly as she imagined a teddy bear would sound. ‘I’m here to help you through the maze.’
‘What maze?’ she stammered, too astonished to think clearly about how a stuffed toy could grow, move and talk. Yet hadn’t he done that once before? In a dream, perhaps...? ‘That one.’
Nyssa looked to her left and saw that a vast array of multicoloured plastic’ blocks had appeared. They reached up about three times her height, forming a wall with three openings. Through each one she could see blocks receding into the distance.
‘Oh. I see.’ And Nyssa looked back to where her father/the Master had been.
‘The secret you seek, Miss Nyssa,’ said BeeBee, ‘the truth about your father, the Master and the Doctor, is at the centre of the maze. If you want to learn more, I suggest we go. But fear not. I shall lead you for there may be many traps and dangers along the way.’
‘And no doubt even more when I get there,’ Nyssa said. don’t think I like this place, BeeBee. But I don’t imagine I have a great deal of choice, do I?’
‘No, Miss Nyssa. As you know, we have a saying on Traken
- a darleel, ―the trap that must be sprung‖.’
Nyssa marched ahead of the bear to the right-hand opening in the wall. ‘To be honest, Big Bear, I’m rather fed up with Traken at the moment.’ And she marched through the gap. BeeBee, despite his proposition, walked behind her, to guard her rear.
Tegan woke to find herself lying flat on a cold slab of what looked like solid marble. It was polished and smooth-edged, as if to prevent anyone getting nasty scratches or bumps if they walked into it.
She eased herself up, pulled her knees in close until she was sitting upright, and looked around. She was in another part of the cathedral structure, that was certain. And of the Observer, there was no sign. She had no recollection of exactly how she came to be here, but doubted that the absence of the Doctor, Nyssa and the crew from Little Boy II boded particularly well.
Realising that no one seemed anxious to visit her, she got off her slab and decided to explore. Except there wasn’t too much to see. The chamber she was in was lit by flaming torches, like the part of the building she had already seen (which meant there was a fresh air supply somewhere - a possible escape route?), and she was surrounded by row upon row of dead bodies on slabs like hers. They were all grey-looking, like the Observer.
She tried to think of the things she had learnt since travelling to alien planets. First up: don’t panic. Secondly, observe and learn without saying too much (yeah, right, Dad used to call her a mouth on legs and rarely had he said anything so true). And thirdly, if in doubt, blame Adric.
The Doctor? Where was he? The Observer had given her a vision, something that made her doubt the Doctor. Yes, and just for one moment she had succumbed - exactly as the old man had wanted.
One thing about me, Tegan thought, is that I’m bloody stubborn. Adric and Nyssa might be vulnerable targets when it came to brainwashing, but Tegan Jovanka was made of sterner stuff. The Observer had made a big mistake.
‘Not at all,’ he hissed in her ear.
She turned, to give him a bit of a tongue lashing, but stopped herself.
The Observer had his finger on his lips, the traditional sign to be quiet. He was indicating the slabs. And the fact that one by one, the ‘dead’ bodies were stirring.
He was mouthing at her. ‘No more words. Not yet.’ She frowned but complied.
‘Awaken, brethren,’ the Observer suddenly bellowed.
‘Awaken for She is here!’
As one, the bodies rose up, saw Tegan and gasped, clearly in awe of her. They all bowed and started chanting.
‘But they were dead...’ she started to say. Again the Observer waved her to silence.
‘Welcome her, brethren,’ he commanded, and the chanting got louder. And louder. After a moment or two Tegan began to wince - the voices were really very loud.
She couldn’t concentrate.
‘Exactly,’ the Observer whispered. ‘Your mind is unable to focus and therefore your thoughts cannot be read at the moment. Do not try to speak, allow me to explain. There can be questions later.’
He turned again to the chanters. ‘Louder, my brethren, the Chosen One cannot hear your gratitude, cannot hear your love!’
‘I can hear it very well, thank you.’ Tegan gritted her teeth to keep her mind off the noise level.
‘They have slept for many decades, Tegan Melissa Jovanka.
The
y believe their god has abandoned them. They believe their god to be sick. I was left to await the coming of the Chosen One, the one they believed would lead them to their god, save him from his sickness and return him to them.’
‘And that’s me, is it? I’m your Chosen One?’
The Observer smiled. ‘Of course you’re not. But they believe you are. And, more importantly, their god will believe they believe you are. Which will distract him long enough for the Doctor to do his job here.’
Tegan stared, open-mouthed. Of all the things the Observer could have said, this was not what she expected to hear. All she could say was ‘Why me?’
The old man took a step closer. ‘Because of what you have already surmised. Nyssa of Traken and the boy Adric do not possess the strength to fight back, to overcome the brainwashing. He uses me. He treats me with contempt. He believes that I can’t control this rabble. He also believes that he is not sick. In truth, he is very sick.’
‘Who? Their god?’
‘Indeed. The Doctor will believe he can save him - and you are the distraction that will enable me to stop the Doctor performing the task that he thinks he must perform, that he believes he has been summoned for. That will allow me to show him an alternative path to walk.’
‘I don’t understand. Why must they make so much noise?’
‘Because their god can read minds, particularly mine. This noise distracts, disrupts the alpha waves along which he can communicate with me. By chanting in perfect unison, they are unwittingly creating a barrier between their god and my mind.’
Tegan frowned. ‘The strain on you must be...’
He nodded. ‘But it is worth it.’
‘But the images you put in my mind earlier. My father...’
The Observer shrugged. ‘They are images you put there yourself. I do not know if your father is alive or dead, any more than you do. But you suspect he is dead and feel guilty for not being with your family. I am ashamed to say that it was very easy for me to... violate your subconscious, bring those unpleasant possibilities to a plane of reality for you.’
‘You were testing me, weren’t you. That’s what you meant about Nyssa and Adric!’
The Observer nodded. ‘The god is playing with their minds at the moment. And even the Doctor’s, although I can read enough to know he is not fooled. The Doctor is a clever foe -
he already understands the Game. I cannot help him further -
I have already done my bit for him. But you ... you withstood the brainwashing. I was instructed to give you. Tegan, I need your help. Allow me to show you the universal truth. So you will understand.’
* * *
The Doctor took a step back as the first of the sleepers awoke and rose up, breaking into a chant. Around them, all the other previously comatose bodies left their slabs and started chanting. ‘Some coma, Doctors!’ Oakwood said waspishly.
Dieter shrugged, but the Doctor was furious. ‘Of course, he’s manipulated our minds.’
‘Who has?’ asked Desorgher.
‘Where’s Townsend?’ the Doctor asked quietly.
‘Who?’ Oakwood looked around. ‘Is she the person you think has manipulated our minds?’
But the Doctor ignored him and, roughly pushing one of the chanters aside, clambered on to its slab and looked around. ‘Townsend! Braune! Talk to me. Now!’
Dieter tugged at his trouser leg. ‘Are you all right, Doctor?’
‘Yes, I am. But you’re not. Who travelled with us to this planet?’
Dieter shrugged. ‘You and the commander.’
‘Don’t you see?’ He looked at her, then Oakwood.
‘Desorgher? Where’s Desorgher?’ As Dieter was about to speak, the Doctor waved her quiet. ‘Yes, yes, I know what you’re going to say - ―Who?‖ They’re your comrades, Dieter. I should have spotted it earlier - Braune was the first to disappear from our memories! He looked up and around, clambering from slab to slab, yelling out their names.
‘Desorgher? Braune? Townsend?’
He stopped as he saw Braune. The security man was standing, chanting with the others, but he was shadowy.
Almost as if he wasn’t quite there.
‘It’s a dream. I’m still dreaming this.’ He looked around.
‘Where does it start, hmmm?’ he yelled up to the ceiling. ‘Am I by the door, still drugged? Or perhaps I’m still on the surface of Dymok. Or...’ No, surely not that! ‘Or am I still in the TARDIS? Has none of this really happened?’
But nothing changed. He looked around - he’d lost Braune again and could see neither Dieter nor Oakwood any longer.
‘All right, Toymaker, I’ll play it your way - round one to you.
Checkmate. Snap. Rummy. Whatever you want, but move things along or I can’t help you!’
And the world dissolved around him.
Nyssa stared at the TARDIS - it was on some kind of pedestal, probably at the heart of the maze. It was also rather small. Or a long way ahead.
‘I presume that’s my target, BeeBee.’
Around them the many-coloured wooden blocks formed a massive wall - she could see only ahead - which rather confirmed that the TARDIS was indeed a very long way in front of her and very high up.
‘Who is controlling all this, BeeBee?’
‘I have no idea, Miss Nyssa.’
Nyssa looked at his unreadable furry face. ‘Oh nonsense, BeeBee. You are my toy, from home. You no longer exist - you were destroyed when my world, my bed and everything on it vanished. I’m not exactly the naive young Traken noblewoman I was back then - I’ve seen and learnt quite a bit.’
She tapped BeeBee’s chest. ‘People are always underestimating me, but just because I don’t yell my head off like Tegan or sulk like Adric it doesn’t mean I don’t absorb, notice and learn things. Someone has taken you out of my memories and brought you to life. Or I’m dreaming and someone is manipulating my subconscious on a biometric level. Either way, I am aware, I can reason and I can see that whatever is going on, someone is trying to trap me.’
She turned away from BeeBee and carried on walking. ‘And whoever it is, is using a giant rather talkative version of you to convince me otherwise!’
She called back over her shoulder. ‘Oh, and BeeBee, I suspect that my mysterious benefactor wants the Doctor, not me. After all, he recognised the pyramid for what it was - a trap.’
BeeBee did not respond - and when Nyssa turned to see why, he had vanished. ‘What a surprise,’ she sighed. Mind you, for all Tegan’s vocalising of her complaints, the human did have a point fairly frequently. Things did seem to go wrong.
‘That was quite a speech, Nyssa,’ said a voice behind her.
‘One rarely hears you say so much.’
‘I rarely do. Out loud,’ she retorted without looking back. She realised that it was the Master again, with that voice - a silky, pretend-softer version of her own father’s. ‘Doesn’t mean I don’t think it. Why don’t you show me your true self instead of my toy bear, my father or the Master?’
And the Celestial Toymaker materialised before her, arms wide in apology.
‘That’s better,’ she said. ‘I don’t know you, so I’ll assume you are the one behind this ridiculously childish attempt to confuse me.’
‘I’ll speed things up for you, shall I?’ he replied. ‘Go to the centre of the maze.’ He addressed his command to the air.
Nyssa heard a slight mechanical whirring and clicking noise and around her the blocks started moving up and down of their own accord, reassembling in a different order. Some formed a tall column with a long ladder painted on it. Nyssa looked up and could just make out the TARDIS atop the column.
‘So,’ she said, ‘did the blocks move, did I move or is none of this remotely real?’
‘I underestimated you, Nyssa of Traken! The Toymaker clicked his fingers and all the blocks vanished. They were back in the white void Nyssa had seen when she first emerged from the citadel.
‘There is more to you than ev
en the Doctor believes.’ The Toymaker smiled at her, but it didn’t make her feel safe. ‘I see that my games and tricks aren’t amusing you just yet. I feel I might have to up the ante. In the meantime, I think a reunion is in order.’ He seemed to look through her, and she shivered. ‘A reunion on so many levels.’
The Doctor was standing in the Toymaker’s realm, surrounded by silence and whiteness. He staggered under the sudden change in circumstances as the loss of the deafening chanting momentarily threw him.
‘You’ve grown stronger over the years, Doctor,’ said the Toymaker, solidifying in front of him amid a swirl of coloured mist. ‘Once upon a time, you’d have stayed in there for an eternity, locked within your own dreamscape.’
‘Well,’ the Doctor was calmer now, his strength and perspective returning, ‘I’m older now. Wiser even. What do you want?’
‘Is that any way to greet an old friend?’ The Toymaker smiled, but his eyes were dark and ringed, like those of a man who had lacked a good night’s sleep for some time.
‘We are not friends,’ the Doctor said simply.
‘But I believe this young lady is,’ said the Toymaker, and from behind him stepped Nyssa. ‘Well, for now, at least.’
Ignoring him, the Doctor held his hand out to Nyssa.
She walked slowly towards him. ‘Are you all right, Doctor?’
‘Fine. You?’
‘Yes, thank you. I’m afraid I don’t like your friend very much.’
‘Has he hurt you?’
Nyssa shook her head. ‘I could do without the constant visits to Traken, however.’
The Doctor saw her pain, and looked across at the Toymaker in fury. ‘What do you hope to achieve by tormenting my friends?’
The Toymaker smirked. ‘You’ll see. Very soon in fact!’
Nyssa, too, looked at him. ‘I don’t suppose you’d consider letting us go home now? Back to the TARDIS, wherever it is.’
The Doctor opened his mouth to speak, but the Toymaker held his hand up. ‘Oh, sorry, Doctor. Did I forget to mention that?’
He clicked his fingers and the TARDIS appeared in the distance.
