Doctor Who: The Trial of a Time Lord : The Ultimate Foe Read Online Free PDF Page B

duplicate key.
    The Keeper nervously caressed the genuine Key, but remained mute. What would unauthorised possession of the Key mean to him personally? Reproval? Castigation?
    And maybe worse! Suspicion that he had betrayed his solemn trust and been collaborating with the perpetrators of this heinous crime!
    ‘You claim the High Council is behind the scheme?’
    The Inquisitor broke the silence.
    ‘Indubitably,’ he savoured every syllable. ‘They set up this travesty of a trial, making a scapegoat of the Doctor to conceal their own involvement.’
    ‘Is there any reason why I should accept that allegation from a renegade Time Lord?’
    ‘Yes. If your ultimate aim is to elicit the truth.’
    Mel had stayed quiet long enough. ‘Truth! Are you sure you know the meaning of the word!’
    ‘What is it they say on your planet? Red hair denotes a temper?’ he tormented.
    ‘Ask him what his interest is in the matter,’ she instructed the Inquisitor. ‘Certainly not concern for the Doctor!’
    ‘Oh indeed not, my fiery vixen. But the Doctor is well matched against himself. One must destroy the other.’
    ‘It is beyond belief that an individual as evil could have begun his existence in the hallowed halls of Gallifrey.’ The Inquisitor viewed the Master with distaste.
    ‘You are naive, Madam.’ Back to Mel. ‘I think I would lay a shade of odds on the Valeyard. But the possibility of their mutual destruction must exist. That would be perfect.’
    ‘Can’t you stop him!’ Mel rounded on the Inquisitor.
    ‘Sitting here like stuffed dummies while the Doctor –’
    ‘Be quiet, girl!’ The Inquisitor turned to the Master. ‘I find it difficult to accept that your sole motive for interfering was the base desire for revenge.’
    ‘Madam, there is nothing purer and more unsullied than the desire for revenge. But if you follow the metaphor, I have thrown a pebble into the water, perhaps killing two birds with one stone, and causing ripples that will rock the High Council to its foundations. What more could a renegade wish for...?’
    ‘Rock the High Council?’
    ‘The High Council is impregnable!’
    ‘He’s speaking treason!’
    The sages on the benches did not hide their scepticism.
    ‘Have him arrested, Madam Inquisitor!’ A hollow-cheeked veteran of two thousand years was completely carried away.
    ‘One cannot arrest an image, Xeroniam,’ said his neighbour, a mere juvenile of a thousand and eight.
    Confusion reigned.
    Dignity had evaporated from the proceedings.
    ‘Why don’t you clear off!’ demanded Mel. ‘The sooner you go, the sooner we can see what’s happening to the Doctor and Glitz!’
    ‘To do so will afford me great pleasure, my dear Melanie. Though I doubt you will enjoy the sight...’
    Nor did she.
    The Master’s leering face faded.
    The screen went white.
    Then a dim outline came floating into the vacated space.
    Fuzzy at first. Indeterminate...
    It resolved itself into a figure. Lying flat. Unmoving.
    Mel drew in her breath as the picture hardened... into a corpse-like body prone on the cobblestones.
    She peered closer.
    Fearful.
    It was almost with a guilty sense of relief that she recognised not the Doctor but Glitz.
    Relief gave way to a gasp of revulsion.
    The petty crook was not resting...
    He was skewered by a harpoon..!
     
    8

Mr Popplewick
    The festive lights frolicked over Sabalom Glitz’s waxen features, underscoring the sadness of the scene.
    Sadness? ‘You’ll get cold lying there!’ quipped the Doctor.
    A pause... then the eyelids popped open. ‘You’re a hard man, you are. My nerves are in shreds. I could’ve been killed.’
    ‘Not when you’re wearing a Mark Seven Postidion Life Presever!’ The Doctor’s insight into Glitz’s character was unflawed by sentiment. Glitz was plump, but a layer of that plumpness was the concealed protective toggery he cannily wore: he was no daredevil; even his pyjamas were made of Attack Repulsor Polycreman pongee, fastened at