Killer Bees Episode Ten;Always the Third Doctor!;Welcome to Jeri's Dr. Who fiction Page!;Doctor Who;UNIT;TARDIS;Third Doctor;Katy Manning;Jo Grant;The Master;Roger Delgado
Killer Bees
Episode 10
Jo's breathing was only very slowly regulating itself again, more a
concession to exhaustion than to the comfort of air traveling into her
inflamed bronchial openings.
Sweat formed a line under her hair and trickled down her face. She did not
have the strength to close her lips, and a thin sheet of saliva formed in
her mouth and dropped down her to her chin.
A sudden light flashed in the TARDIS control room, but she did not lift
her head. The Master, however, turned quickly--too quickly. He winced
and then groaned. Bright and violent red streaks ran under his skin from
the bandages wrapped around his neck and chest. He grabbed at them
instinctively and then cursed as the pain worsened.
"In a bad way?" a cold and sardonic voice asked.
The Master steadied himself. "Who are you?" he asked.
"I have come to make you a deal," the Clark said.
In spite of his own discomfort, the Master let out a short laugh. "For
her?" The Clark turned to follow the Master's glance and saw Jo, standing
rigid with head down, intent only on her next breath.
"No," he said, returning his gaze to the Master. "Not for her."
"How did you get into my TARDIS?" the Master asked. "If you make a move,
I shall kill her."
The Clark slowly smiled and took a large step closer. "What a funny little
man, you are," he observed. "Tormenting humans has made you human somehow.
You expect to find warmth in me, don't you?"
The Master had his good hand on the control device, but at the sight of
the Clark's open scorn for the threat, he stopped.
"How did you get here?" the Master asked.
"With this," the Clark told him, holding out his arm with the time
bracelet and then withdrawing it as the Master would have stepped closer to
see it.
"It is my TARDIS," he told the Master. "Slightly more sophisticated than
this, uh, quaint device of yours."
"How did you find me?" the Master asked.
"My TARDIS homed in on you," the Clark said. "It knows a timelord from
humans."
"You are in tremendous danger, my friend," the Master said.
"Am I? From a raging infection?" the Clark asked archly with a glance at
the Master's shoulder. "Or from the accompanying fever?"
"You fool! Within eight hours my army shall be assembled--"
"You mean crystallized," Clark 42 corrected. "And tempered."
The Master's jaw dropped slightly, but he caught himself and tried not to
look startled at the Clark's knowledge of the crystalline devices.
"I asked who you are--" he began, but the Clark smirked.
"I am myself," he said. "And now, goodbye!" And he vanished.
The Master gasped in surprise and frustration at losing his prey so quickly.
He shot a sharp glance at Jo, thought a moment, and hurried out. Shortly,
he returned with a flask of water. He stepped up to her and lifted her
face by the chin. She seemed unaware of him. He pried the tapered neck of
the flask between her lips and poured some of the water into her mouth. She
choked, gasped, and then instinctively drank in nervous and quick gulps.
When the flask was half empty, he withdrew it from her lips.
"Do you want more?" he asked.
"Yes," she gasped.
"Tell me who he is."
"The Doctor--"
"No, the other one."
"Mike Yates--"
"Don't play games with me--" He seized her face and shook her, making her
focus her eyes on him. "Who is he?"
"I don't know who you mean."
"The man in the bowler hat. With the bracelet. Is he a timelord?"
She hesitated and then said, "Yes. Please, give me water."
There was another flash, and the Master painfully turned to see that his
strange visitor had returned.
"How primitive," the Clark returned. "Turning to a sophisticated form of
ape for information."
"Clark," Jo gasped.
"So you are allies," the Master said with some satisfaction, releasing
her and turning to him.
"I have no allies," the Clark told him. "Other than a temporary
partnership with the Doctor, which is ongoing."
"Then why are you here, if not to rescue the girl?" the Master asked.
"The High Council of the Timelords has empowered me to make an agreement
with you," the Clark told him. "I came to this barbaric planet for no
other reason than to locate you and make you an offer."
The Master turned completely from Jo, and a look of deep satisfaction
crossed his face. "I have only one condition," he said. "Complete rule
over the Council."
"That, of course, is impossible," the Clark said.
"Then I shall destroy them."
"Provided you live long enough," the Clark observed. "How long did you
say until the weapon is ready?"
"If it is my last act, then I shall unleash the weapon on earth," the
Master snarled. Clark 42 let out a short laugh. "I shall count that a
victory for Gallifrey," he said. "If only Earth is destroyed, we have
nothing to worry about."
"Clark," Jo whispered. "Clark, what about the Doctor?"
"He does not know I have found you," the Clark told her. "He is alive for
now. He will die shortly. But enough of that." He looked at the Master.
"Earth is doomed, and though the Doctor entered the partnership on the
condition that we save this planet, we have failed. But I still intend to
save Gallifrey. That was my mission." He looked the Master up and down
from head to foot and back again, and his face filled with the cold scorn
that Jo knew so well and that even the Master found belittling. "We will
not give you rule," he said. "You will have to lower your demands."
Sweat now pouring down his own face, the Master leaned back against the
console and drank from the flask. "I will kill her before your eyes," he
said.
"Oh, I'll just leave until it's over," the Clark told him. "I have no
love for humans, but I never intend cruelty to any animal." He shot a
cursory glance at Jo. "I assume she is dying. You ought to put her out of
her misery. It will save me from having to prevent the Doctor from
attempting a rescue."
"Do not presume to tell me what to do!" the Master snapped.
"Then return to the subject at hand," the Clark snapped back. "We have an
offer to make, an agreement to reach. That is my mission!"
The Master looked at him thoughtfully, his face a mask of strain against
the pain of infection. "Go back to the Doctor and tell him I have her--"
"I shall do no such thing!" the Clark snapped. "You are injured and ill.
We have uncovered the secret of your weapon. We know about the submicronic
crystalline semi conductors. But the Council of the Timelords is still
willing to make concessions in order to purchase safety for millions."
"This is my answer!" the Master said suddenly, and pulled the molecular
compressor from the pocket of his trousers. He pointed it at Clark 42 and
fired.
But the Clark was not there. "Over here old boy," he said from the other
side of the console.
The Master unsteadily turned and then fired again, but again the Clark was
gone.
"It protects me," the Clark told him smugly as he reappeared yet again.
He shook the bracelet. "Such an advancement over this old contraption of
yours."
The Master stared at him, almost unable to comprehend that the Clark was
better equipped, just as cold blooded, and even more firmly fixed on his
own interests than the Master himself.
"What is your offer?" the Master asked at last.
"Whatever I can give you," the Clark told him. "But right now I would say
that medical attention is what you need the most. You will not live to make
your attack on Gallifrey."
"How do you know about that?" the Master asked.
"The line of your success would have moved according to your original plan,
" the Clark told him. "After destroying most of the human population on
Earth, you would have assaulted the Council with this mysterious illness
and succeeded. They would have died not knowing what was killing them. But
they sent one of their number into the future," he added. "To a day when
the council would be rebuilt from its ashes, when you would be overthrown
from your power and a new council established. They appealed to us to come
back. To end the plague. I was chosen." He bowed slightly.
"I will win?" the Master asked, stunned.
"You would have," the Clark corrected. "But I was wise in my choices. I
summoned the Doctor in his death throes and lured him here with the plight
of the girl and the young man who was also his friend. He came, and I made
use of his services." He cocked an eyebrow and glanced at the Master's
wounded shoulder and neck. "You see, I am a medical expert, but I needed
his technological expertise. And his ability to maneuver on this primitive
planet. He has determined your methods, and unexpectedly the brutality of
the human male has played a role in stopping you."
"Where is the Doctor?" the Master asked. "Surrender him to me!"
"No," the Clark said. "For he is a timelord, and I have made an
agreement with him. Do you want the other human? the intelligence officer?
Or the one called the Brigadier?"
"Clark," Jo gasped.
"They are doomed anyway," the Clark said to her. "I would not surrender
them otherwise." He shook his head. "I kept my word to the Doctor. I
tried to save the planet, but we failed. Now I must save Gallifrey. I
will deliver humans to you singly or in dozens, but never another timelord.
"
* * * *
The Doctor came around as light filtered in through the dirty windows. He
groaned and tried to sit up. Unexpectedly, he felt an arm get around his
shoulder and give him a lift to a sitting position.
"Who is it?" he asked.
"Mike Yates," Mike told him, helping him get his feet to the floor.
"Time is running out," the Doctor gasped.
"Clark 42 did something to you last night," Mike said. "Do you remember?
"
"No," the Doctor told him, opening his eyes and letting his vision clear.
"Your idea was the right one. We can always go one smaller than the
Master's creations," he said. "We must develop an attack system.
Something that homes in on the second generation versions of those creatures.
Get me--get me to the work table."
Mike helped him to the table where the litter of sketches and algorithmic
computations lay untouched.
"It's not the size that will be difficult," the Doctor told him, picking
up a pencil with a shaking hand, fumbling with it, and at last seizing it
firmly. "It's the logic. We must develop a controlled logic ladder that
will do what we want."
"What do we want?" Mike asked him.
"Something simple to detect and something simple to do as a counter-measure,
" the Doctor said. "We cannot develop any complex routines, for there is
not time."
"Detect the silicon," Mike said. "Aren't they mostly silicon?"
"Not mostly, but there's enough there." The Doctor looked thoughtful.
"But the counter-measures must do something simple and efficient." He shook
his head. "How can we determine how to counter strike without having seen
the second generation creations? We need samples. The first generation
killer bees can help us, but they are not enough."
* * * *
"So," the Clark said. "The latest version of the bees is microscopic.
Attacks the immune system, eh? Very inconvenient. You'll have to re-tune
it each time for every different species that you attack. What kills a
human won't kill an Ice Warrior."
The Master sneered. His face was taking on a slightly swollen, pearly
look. "The devices can perform a wide variety of functions," he said. He
nodded at Jo Grant, who had declined back into her semi-conscious state.
"For her I tried an approach that may work across several species."
"What's that?" the Clark asked.
"Not a disease at all," the Master told him. "The devices scan her immune
system and set up a mirror of it. They continually feed information to the
immune centers that indicate that infection is being battled and controlled
throughout her systems. The immune system immediately stops functioning on
its own. It thinks that it is functioning. Minor infections quickly
escalate."
The Clark glanced at her. "Still, there are obviously gaps," he said.
"Or she would be dead by now. She's been here nearly 12 hours." He glanced
at the Master. "It does not seem to be all that efficient, in spite of
your claims otherwise. Many, many species have immune systems far more
complex than the human version."
The Master frowned. "It is a first attempt, of course. I shall make
improvements. But the theory is the correct one."
"Hmm." The Clerk seemed unimpressed and unconvinced. He ran an
appraising glance over Jo and then glanced back at the other timelord.
"May I?"
"By all means," the Master said.
Clark stepped up to Jo, wearing the air of the studious medical
professional. He framed his hands around her throat and felt the lymph
glands along her neck and under her jaw. "Not pneumonia," he observed.
"Usually the first and deadliest ailment in a failing immune system."
She looked up at him. "Please," she whispered. "Clark."
He pressed his thumbs against her wet face. "Sinuses are inflamed," he
observed. "She is being taken over by the more minor diseases of the age.
I told you, I cannot help you," he said to her. "It is impossible."
He continued his inspection, his strong fingers again pressing the lymph
glands. "No, I am certain of it; she is resisting pnuemonia. Your
method is flawed. Her immune system is still operating on a low level.
She will eventually die, of course, but it could have been accomplished
much sooner-an hour or two if you had known what you were doing.""
Tears spilled out of her eyes and trickled over his hands.
"I know what I want," the Master said suddenly.
"What is that?" the Clark asked. He did something that Jo did not
understand, some pressure point over her sinuses that caught her completely
by surprise. It brought an uncontrolled sneeze out of her all over his
shirt front and the immaculate suit. And then she sneezed again--directly
in his face. The Master burst out with a short laugh of appreciation.
The Clark stepped back in dismay. "These humans!" he exclaimed in disgust.
He turned to the Master. "What are your demands?" he asked. He held his
arms wide from himself as though still repulsed by the sneeze.
"Medical attention," the Master said. "And that time bracelet of yours."
"My TARDIS?" the Clark asked. "Now you're delirious!"
"In return I shall give you a treaty of non-aggression against Gallifrey.
And you may destroy my infrastructure here," the Master told him. "All the
equipment. I ask only to take the existing devices--a small army in which
to set up a modest empire for myself."
The Clark backed away from Jo, still dismayed at the sneeze. He glanced
at the Master. "I must consider. If I pass my time bracelet over to you,
I shall be stranded."
"There is the Doctor's TARDIS," the Master told him. The Clark rolled his
eyes.
"Let me retire and consider, and I shall write up the treaty," he said.
"I shall not be long."
"You will come back?" the Master asked.
"In time? Yes, though I may crop it close if I suspect treachery in you,
" the Clark told him.
He winked out.
* * * *
Mike turned quickly at the familiar flash of light in the lab. Instantly
he seized the Clark in a full nelson.
"No!" Clark 42 shouted. "No! You'll kill the girl! Don't touch me!"
In spite of his suspicions, Mike leaped back.
The Clark whirled on him. "Keep your foul, filthy, human hands off of me,
you young Turk!" he shouted.
"Clark!" the Doctor exclaimed. "Where have you been?"
Mike's gun instantly came out, pointed at the Clark. "I smell her perfume
on you," he said. "He's been with Jo! He's allied with the Master."
"Calling me a traitor?" the Clark asked. "You'd know all about that,
wouldn't you?"
"Where have you been?" the Doctor demanded.
"Get that hoodlum out of here!" Clark said.
"Mike, if he doesn't answer me, shoot him," the Doctor ordered.
"Doctor!" the Clark exclaimed.
"I was right. You have forsaken friendship," the Doctor said evenly.
"Friendship and loyalty and all the rest. If at the end there's nothing
left but cynicism, it's better to be dead."
"I haven't forsaken the virtues," Clark retorted. "Only sentimental
twaddle. Now get that scanner and get over here. I have been with the girl,
and I've examined her. She's in a bad way, but I'm sure that I've got at
least a few of the second generation devices on me. Hurry up! Get some
glass slides."
The Doctor instantly turned to the table. "Put the gun away; he's telling
the truth," he said.
"How?" Mike asked.
"The Master's got her infected with those things," the Clark snapped.
"He's using her as a test subject. They're in her lungs, throat and
sinuses--well, and everywhere else, as well. I touched her sweat and
tears, and then she sneezed on me. Fluids from her body must contain
samples of the devices." The Doctor started working on the Clark's face
with a scraper and a set of slides.
The Doctor worked quickly while the Clark stayed absolutely still. "Look,
" Mike said after a moment. "I don't understand."
"It's what we discussed yesterday," the Doctor said. "The Master has
created a type of electronic infectious weapon. I'm sure he can release
millions into a victim's body directly through the air--"
"Yes, it's what he did to Jo," the Clark confirmed. "Create the counter
measures, Doctor. The electronic infectious devices are highly
sophisticated, though. I have no idea what you can do to defeat them once
they have infected a person."
"Ah, well I do," the Doctor said. "We create a new infectious agent that
attacks the infectious agent," the Doctor said. "Yates hit on it yesterday.
We create an electronic virus that attacks those things."
"But what does it do to attack?" Mike asked.
""Simplest thing is to get them to attack in clusters," the Doctor said.
"Simply inhibit the functioning of the Master's devices in a dog pile
strategy."
"You mean make the Master's devices inert," the Clark said.
"Precisely."
"You'll never get that done in time to save her while she's his prisoner,"
the Clark said. "We must rescue her first, and I have an idea."
"How did you find her?" Mike asked, still suspicious.
"Magic," the Clark said.
"Answer him!" the Doctor ordered.
"The Doctor and Miss Grant are sometimes in communication telepathically,"
the Clark said sourly. "Only when the Doctor is unconscious. So I rendered
him unconscious last night and joined in the transmission between them.
Once I got into the circle, I was able to find her myself."
"But if he's got those things inside her, we cannot save her," the Doctor
said. "He could kill her at any moment."
"Leave that to me," the Clark said. "I think I can get his mind on other
things." He glanced over at Mike Yates as the Doctor finished. 'Young man,
if you can refrain from behaving like a baboon, I will need your help
there."
* * * *
"We'll need those electrostatic discharge units and some disposable oxygen
cylinders," the Clark said. He was in his shirt sleeves. "The lightweight
kind."
"All right," the Doctor told him. He passed over two small cylinders.
"And yes, Yates, you will need that monstrous big gun you are so fond of
pulling out," the Clark added, fitting the cylinders into his pockets.
"But you must track me. I have no idea where the Master's lair is."
"We've got a transmitter all set up for you," the Doctor said. "Yates,
you get the men together. Plain cars, I think. Benton's on call for you.
"
"Right," Mike said. He strode out. The Clark glanced at the Doctor.
"You're going to give it all up?" the Doctor asked, threading the
transmitter wire into the Clark's sleeve.
"For the time," he replied. "Better not to talk about it. But in the end
everything will be all right. You need another round of injections?"
"I'm fine for right now." He clipped the transmitter to the inside cuff of
the pinstriped jacket, attached the battery pack to the Clark's belt in the
back, and helped him into the jacket.
"Good luck, then," he said.
"I must tantalize him first, Doctor. It may take a while," the Clark
warned.
"All right."
* * * *
Jo was struggling against severe fluid accumulation in her lungs when the
Clark next appeared with flash in the Master's TARDIS. The Master was
scarcely better off. He was sitting on the floor, head bowed, obviously
waiting for the Clark and keeping a sort of guard on Jo.
"The bullet," he gasped.
"Yes indeed, we have a deal," the Clark said. "I've got my instruments
here."
"First," the Master said. "First, the time bracelet."
"I'm not sure about that," Clark 42 objected.
"We have an agreement!" the Master snapped.
"Well, there is the treaty first--"
"The time bracelet, before I become delirious you fool. "
Reluctantly, the Clark pulled the bracelet off and hesitated again.
"Give it to me!" the Master exclaimed.
Clark handed it to him, and the Master quickly slipped it on. With a
sudden look of shock, he half rose to his feet. He shouted something
inarticulate as the time bracelet tightened. In the next instant he
disappeared, taken in the act of reaching into his pocket for the control
device that would have killed Jo. As the Master and the device were thrown
into time and space, the controlling field from the hand held control went
out of range. Jo suddenly collapsed as her muscles were released. The
Clark had been expecting it, and he caught her.
Without wasting a glance at the air that the Master had occupied, the
Clark pulled out one of the oxygen cylinders from his pocket. He fitted the
nose and mouthpiece over her face. He moved too quickly for her to resist.
She tried to turn away from it, but it attached to her face, and he waved
his free hand in her eyes. She involuntarily caught in her breath. He
scooped her up in his arms and kicked the automatic door. of the TARDIS.
"Open up, blast you!" he shouted with uncharacteristic impatience. As
though on command, the door swung open, and he darted with Jo into what
looked like a Georgian mansion decked out with a series of clean rooms,
furnished with semi conductor crystallization ovens. Not wasting a glance
on them, the Clark raced out with his prize.
The UNIT driver, posing as a cabby, was just pulling in with Mike Yates
when the Clark burst out of the side door of the mansion. He plucked the
spent respirator from Jo's face and threw it down as he raced down the walk
with her.
"Spare me!" the driver exclaimed as he saw Jo. "You robbin' the morgue in
there?"
"Shut up and get the back door open! She's in a bad way!" the Clark shouted.
Mike Yates pulled the door handle from the inside and pushed the door open.
The Clark slid inside with Jo.
"Quick man, get the place sealed off!" the Clark exclaimed. "We need
those discharge bursts right away. Discharge now!"
Mike nodded and spoke into his hand held set. "Turn on the lights!" he
exclaimed. "Send in the sweepers!" He glanced at the Clark as the
lightning-like flashes erupted around them. "How is she?"
"Alive," the Clark said. "But it will take some time for the micronic
defenders to be built and to do their work. She's in terrible danger."
"Where is the Master?"
"Gone to the Vortex for now," the Clark assured him. He looked down at Jo
for a moment, his face suddenly lost in an expression that startled Mike
Yates. The Clark smoothed her hair back from her damp forehead. Her eyes
stirred and then opened in time to see his glance. But she didn't speak.
"We've found a way," he told her. "I was never going to leave you to him,
Jo. Never. But we had to find a way to get you free and save your life."
He shot an uncertain glance at Yates. "Get to your business, man," he
snapped. "I'll see to her. Driver, get us back to HQ."
Mike nodded and went out the car on his side. The driver turned the wheel
sharply, brought them around, and headed for UNIT.
Mike had brought a collection of water bottles for her. The Clark pulled
one open with his teeth and awkwardly offered it to her. Water spilled down
her cheeks and chin, as she drank. She looked up at him as she received
water enough to speak.
"Doctor, you're safe," she whispered. "You're well."
"Yes," the Clark said quietly to Jo. "I'm safe and well for the moment.
Close your eyes, my dear." He gently slid his hand down her eyes,
closing them. "Isn't that better? It hurts there, doesn't it? I'll
see to it." And he pressed carefully on a pressure point over her sinuses
and then released it. The tightened muscles of her face relaxed.
"Don't leave me," she whispered. She suddenly cried out very feebly and
her two hands clenched with a spasmodic jerking. "I can't get my breath,"
she choked. "Doctor, help me." She arched her head back and struggled to
take in a breath.
The Clerk let loose with an expletive and pulled another respirator from
his pocket. "Hurry driver," he exclaimed. He fitted it to her face.
"We're going as fast as we can, Jo. Hold on." He fished a covered
scalpel from his pocket, ready to open her trachea. "Hurry, I said!" he
shouted at the driver. "Her immune system hasn't kicked in. Hurry!
She'll die!"
