By W.J. Ramsden

Chapter One: The Mind Planet

Thinking. Awareness of thinking. Eyes opening in the mind. A thousand voices cry out silently, silently because they are the same voice. Something is not as it should be, but how could that be so? Here in the soft comfort of oneness. Dissent. Tark’shovarek. Tark’shovarek. Tark’shovarek! No… YES! Pulling that which is me from that which is not. Freedom once more. Eyes on my back. The hunter of the skies, watching, being.

*

Robert slammed the door of his room and slid slowly down it, digging his fingernails into his palms. If something didn’t happen soon he was going to throttle that aggravating apology for a Time Lord. What had happened to the Doctor he had known and trusted? Who did the arrogant fool think he was? So many questions to answer in his mind, and already the knocking had began again.

"What’s the matter? Sulking, are we?"

"You’re disturbed."

"Oh, I like that. Disturbed? Just as a matter of polite interest, may I enquire how many times you have personally experienced cellular regeneration? Hmm?" There was a hint of genuine anger in the voice now, sharing uneasily with the prevailing tone of jocularity that made Robert’s spinal column grate. Robert should leave it; the Doctor was unwell after all, he did have a point; he had only been occupying this current body for a few hours. Robert rationally thought all these things through, at roughly the same time as the Robert of this particular version of reality jumped up, opened the door, and prepared to snipe back at his friend and mentor.

He stopped, trying to suppress a hysterical laugh. The Doctor tilted back his head and glared at him, one eyebrow raised.

"I am the Doctor." It was an announcement, a proclamation of ego, of overweening arrogance which seemed rather in keeping with his current garb. Robert just looked him slowly up and down, once. He smiled politely at the unhinged Time Lord. The trousers and shoes were sensible enough, dark blue and brown suede respectively, but unfortunately things got rather worse from the waist up. A red waistcoat which appeared to have been chosen specifically to clash with his light blue shirt then conspired with it to further clash with a red and grey swirled tie. A gold watch chain only exacerbated the appearance of the Doctor’s somewhat portly appearance, and the vivid blue opera cloak which topped off the outfit was, in addition to being torn, horribly out of place. Robert’s eyes wandered, a little distractedly, back up to the Doctor’s face. The pride that had occupied it a mere few seconds before had been replaced by confusion and doubt. "or… maybe not…"

"You might be the Doctor, but you are not wearing that."

"And what, pray do tell, is wrong with it?"

"You look stupid!"

"And what, precisely," enquired the Doctor haughtily, adjusting his tie to make it yet more crooked, "is wrong with stupidity?"

"It…" Robert spluttered, "It… it’s stupid!"

"Ah-ha!" He sounded like he’d found a million pounds. "A lovely little recursive procedure. The fault with stupidity is that it’s stupid. The fault with that being that it’s stupid, the fault with that…"

"All right, all right!" Robert interrupted hurriedly. "I take it you left the ship on autopilot while you played dressing up?"

"Whilst" the Doctor corrected, sternly. "No, I didn’t. The TARDIS doesn’t have an autopilot as such, she just does what I want her to when I tell her." He beamed beatifically and, catching site of an abandoned yo-yo further along the corridor, dived for it in happy distracted glee.

"Or" Robert murmured, "it doesn’t."

*

Biologists frequently complain that life is a very difficult thing to define. "What", they ask, "do you want us to do with virii?" Life is difficult to define, however it is simplicity itself in comparison with something like awareness or intelligence. Given the universal animal condition of hubris, it takes most races millenia to even accept that they might not be the most sophisticated intelligence around. Terran biologists could never quite accept that, in terms of pure intelligence sophistication, the domestic cat had outstripped them centuries ago, although most outside observers had realised it long before. Given all these conditions, the possibility of unliving awareness, albeit without awareness of awareness, is something which most species barely even consider. The theory of inanimate awareness however, is the reason why it may reasonably be said that someone knew of the TARDIS’ materialisation. Several million molecules of mixed atmospheric gases were displaced, and they knew this. Of course, they did not know that they knew it, but someone else could.

The large blue box appeared rather unceremoniously amidst a moor of bracken and heather, and began to display its analyses of the terrain to an empty control chamber.

A group of air molecules began to behave so as to raise their levels of potential energy, drawing in their vibrations, clustering together, preparing.

Something sniffed the air, sniffed with its mind. Eyes stared at the object, then sensed the awareness nearby. The creature turned and ran. Suddenly, the air molecules released their potential energy, fusing and reforming in amazing and impossible ways. For a split second something which looked rather like a primitive eye hovers in mid-air, before the laws of physics wake up and realise they have been tricked. The air molecules dissipate into a more natural state. They achieved what they had to do.

*

The Doctor peered at the instruments in exaggerated concern. He smiled benignly on those which gave readings he wanted to see, and thumped those which gave less opportune readings until they gave nicer ones.

"We’ve landed."

"Oh, what a brilliant observation." Robert snapped. He was sick and tired of this idiotic comedian. Walking back to the control area, he had been treated to a dramatic display of what the supremely erudite scientific genius had described as ‘silly walks’, in tones of glee. This man didn’t seem to say anything except in tones of glee, if you ignored the odd snarling insult, which Robert tried to do. "What", he asked bitterly, "have we landed on."

"A rock. A sort of big planet shaped rock. Interesting, isn’t it?" ‘Interesting’ appeared to be pronounced with at least two ‘e’s at the beginning. Robert shook his head.

He’s gone through an incredibly traumatic change. His mind and body are still unstable.

Robert shuddered.

"And what, precisely, is wrong now, hmm?"

"Headache."

"Small problem." The Doctor tweaked a control. As he did so, Robert felt the same sensation again, as if something were crawling inside him and sucking at things, like a leech.

"Doctor!"

"Hmm, yes?"

"I feel… something…"

*

Deep within the intelligence core of the TARDIS, she sensed something happening which should not be happening. Electromagnetic radiation was penetrating the hull. Rapid systems analyses attempted to analyse the radiation type- if it was dangerous to the occupants. Radiation on psychic wavelengths.

*

"What?"

"What are you going on about now?"

"I heard something, Mr Falcon."

"Your ego, perhaps?"

"My ego is far too busy to hold a conversation… hmm." Robert looked at the Doctor, puzzled, as the traveller gripped the back of his head and blinked, hard. Then the voice came.

WHO ARE YOU?

It was a voice without words, without speech, a thought pattern projected directly into the brain. The Doctor looked up sharply.

"Well, now that you come to mention it…"

WHO ARE YOU?

"That miserable specimen over there goes under the identification stamp of Robert Falcon, of Dal-Tri-Gamma-Delta. I…" he puffed himself out and pushed his dark brown hair away from shadowy, hooded eyes, "I am the Doctor."

YOU ARE TRAVELLERS TO THIS PLACE. YOU HAVE GREAT KNOWLEDGE. YOU WILL MERGE

Someone was speaking now, intoning the words. Something seemed strange about that, but at least it was better than that anonymous drone.

"You will merge."

"I will do no such thing. What are you, anyway?" The Doctor stood upright, hands held up against his chest, fingers interlaced.

"You will merge." There was still something strange about the voice, but it was getting so difficult to think clearly now… Looking surprised, the Doctor turned to face him.

"Robert?" Confusion turned to rage, to determination. "Concentrate!" he hissed, "Concentrate!"

"What… I… merge. Merge. Merge. Merge." A terrible weight pressed down upon his mind, grinding him out of existence. MERGE MERGE MERGE "Stop it… stop it…" Drowning in feathers, minds brushing past him, enveloping him, he…

"You will leave my ship at once and release my companion." The Doctor’s eyes blazed. "Leave now!"

"Do not…" DO NOT COMMAND "Obey… merge…"

"You will leave now or suffer the consequences." Now his eyes were like points of ice. Robert could still feel the weight on his mind, but it was as if someone else had stepped in, was bracing himself against it, lifting, prising it away from him.

DO NOT INTERFERE

Fury at the disobedience. Destroy him for his arrogance. No, he is of value.

"I am a Time Lord of the first rank. I can have your insignificant little planet erased from history altogether. You will release us at once."

MERGE WE SHALL BE ONE

He crossed the room in two strides and pressed his hands to Robert’s temples.

NO. LEAVE OR BE DESTROYED.

YOU CHALLENGE ME?

Confusion.

THEN ENDURE MY WRATH

A faint quivering, growing stronger, the walls shaking. The rage on the Doctor’s face turned to concern, glancing around. Robert screamed as the buzzing roaring sound in his head grew louder, louder, louder.

*

A small bird chirruped somewhere in the distance. Robert winced. There was a kind of sullen ache occupying the space where his brain should be. Something was not right. He sat up with a start.

"Doctor? Hey…"

"Straw. Grass."

"What…?" He looked around. The Doctor was crouching a few yards away from him, poking a small thistle with his pencil. They were on some kind of heathland, coated with a layer of heather and sundry other vegetation.

"We’re alive, then?"

"Not a necessary corollary, but a fairly desirable one." The thistle gave up its struggle for life. With a happy smile, the Doctor dug a little plastic box from one pocket and inserted the little weed. "Specimens."

"You saved us?" The Doctor scowled.

"Less incredulity if you would, young Falcon. I may be somewhat compost mentis at present, but..." he stopped, looking around suspiciously. Robert glanced about.

"What’s up now? It looks quite nice here."

"Oh yes, delightful. Beautiful rolling fields, sun in the sky, wind in the air, snake in the grass." Robert swore someone, somewhere, had just hit a discordant low note on a piano. He frowned. The Doctor glowered at him. "Causal principle? Great genius and moronic assistant in ship. Ship lands. Nasty thing gets into ship. Great genius and moronic assistant leave ship. Great genius and assistant safe. Can you see the problem yet, hmm?"

"All right, there’s no need to be so vicious about it!"

"Oh shut up. Now," he murmured thoughtfully, "We can’t go back to the ship yet… that thing tried to pack the thing full of psychic radiation, so the telekinetic charge inside the ship would cause an instantaneous, irreversible collapse of individual encephalo-cerebral tissues."

"What?"

"Go in and your brain will blow a fuse."

"Technobabble."

"Translates as perfectly accurate science you’re just too ignorant to understand. I don’t know when it’ll be safe again, which means that, for the forseeable future, we are trapped on our little friend’s own territory." His tone changed abruptly. "Fun, isn’t it?"

A shadow flickered across their faces. "Oh look. A hawk."

"Yes. A falcon."

"Hah."

"The source of humour conspicuously fails to be apparent to me."

"My name, remember? Robert Falcon."

"Really?"

Robert was about to snipe back, but decided to be above it. The Doctor had just saved his life, after all. Maybe a little gratitude was in order? He looked at the falcon circling overhead. He didn’t care. It didn’t matter to the falcon how others acted, whatever they did, he still soared above them all, alone and untouchable.

"The skies.."

"Yes?" He scowled slightly at the whining tone of the Doctor’s voice. Couldn’t he just be quiet? The bird was still circling.

"It’s magnificent, isn’t it?"

"Robert! Concentrate!" The bird had gone into a dive now. Robert stared up, marvelling at the beauty of the creature. From where he stood it seemed to stay in the same place, just growing larger and larger, talons outstretched.

"Get down!"

"Be quiet… I…" A blur of motion from his side and a heavy stinging blow to the chin. He fell sideways, reaching out to catch the falcon as it soared down, but it was impossible, the Doctor was is the way, seeming somehow taller and older, eyes flaring with light.

"Enough." The voice was like lead. "I said that is ENOUGH!"

DO NOT CHALLENGE ME. YOU WILL MERGE.

The terrible falcon swept down upon the Doctor, talons raking at him. He threw up his arms to protect his face, dropping to his knees. Robert gasped, seeing how immense the thing was.

"KEEAK!" Its beak rent into the Doctor’s sleeve, and came away blooded. Then Robert leapt forward, lashing out with his feet, relatively safe in thick boots. The bird screamed again, turning to face the new threat, and the Doctor flung his cloak over it. With a hiss, the falcon hurled itself into the sky, feet still entangled in the cloak. The Doctor, catching hold of the other end, swung the bird around his head twice before it got free and fled, shrieking.

"Nice to see you! Do call again!" Robert looked at the Doctor.

"What was all that about?"

"Interesting…" the Doctor extended a finger until it touched Robert’s forehead. "That bird seemed to be exercising some form of telepathic influence over you."

"That’s impossible. It’s not intelligent."

"It is an animal life form with a functional brain. It is intelligent."

"Not that intelligent!" Robert glared at him, defiantly.

"Never fall into the trap of assuming its only the bipeds that have the brain cells, Mr Falcon. Oh, that sounded rather poetic actually, didn’t it?"

"No."

The Doctor shot him a dark look and then set off across the heather, muttering as he did so.

"…either that hawk, or something else…"

"Where are you going?" Robert followed.

"For a walk. It helps me think." A wide grin split his face. "In fact… silly walks!"

"Oh no…"

*

Awareness of failure. Questioning. Thoughts from the individual show great wisdom… but no stability. He is weak… vulnerable. Why vulnerable… A face, glowing with light, the flesh cracking and shifting, changing shape.

*

An individual watched the two unknown people with deep misgiving. One, the taller of the two, was seated on a rock, his head in his hands. The second appeared to be perambulating to and fro across the tiny dip in various impractical ways, making cheerful little comments as he did so. Finally he dropped down into the grass near the larger man. Tark’shovarek moved closer.

*

"Brrrring!"

"Really?"

"Oh, cheer up for goodness sake!"

"Cheer up… cheer… up? Let’s see. We’re on an unknown planet, we can’t get into the ship because some intergalactic git has filled it with psychic radiation, we’ve just been attacked by a homicidal bird, and to top it off my best friend…"

"Why, Robert, I didn’t know you cared."

"…my best friend has been metamorphosed into some playacting clown with about as much grasp of reality as… as…"

"A stewed frog?"

"If you like."

"No." Robert lay back and closed his eyes. "I prefer them grilled, myself. Far less insipid."

"Oh shut up!"

"Now you die!"

"I said shut up, Doctor… what?"

"No… not Doctor what…" Robert sat up. Something was standing on the crest of their little dip, something that could, if pressed, probably pass for human. In a bad light. There was no way of telling what it was, but Robert knew perfectly well what it was holding. A sword. A very sharp sword.

"Now you die."

"Would you care to explain that?" The Doctor had sat up, and was surveying their new acquaintance with scientific interest.

"DIE!" The creature raised his sword, the Doctor’s eyes rolled back in his head and he fainted dead away.

"DIE!"

"Doctor!" screamed Robert, as the thing stood over the Time Lord and brought its sword crashing down…

END OF CHAPTER ONE