The Mercury Room Chronicles- Generations- Chapter17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN PECULIAR ORBITS ‘The red one that looks like the fifth moon of Betamax in the corner wormhole,’ The Tenth Dr. said through his cigar as he gave the transparent 3-D image on the board before them a thwack with the pool cue. ‘Nice shot!’ The First Dr. smiled as they watched out of the window of the massive space station. Galactic Pool was one of The First Dr.’s favourite pastimes at The Academy. He and his friend Nineteen –who would later become Richtocorricas Alpha, but The First Dr. had no knowledge of those events– spent most nights in the Academy bar playing instead of studying. The First Dr. chalked a Galactic Pool tournament down to the reason why he failed to study for the General Studies Exams and failed magnificently. Galactic Pool was a simple enough concept to understand. It had all the rules and regulations of pool, except that it was played via remote control with orbiting, armed satellites and a large number of uninhabited planets. The computer generated pool table before them translated to the planets that orbited them and the six strategically placed wormholes that served as the pockets into which the planets would be potted. Though, because the white ball was actually a ball of solid ice, the other planets in the game were often smashed and battered before they got anywhere near the pockets. ‘Wow!’ Aries exclaimed as she watched the red planet in question drift close enough to the wormhole to be captured in its gravitation field and disappear into the swirling event horizon. ‘Where do they end up?’ ‘They’re destroyed,’ The Sixth Manager said silkily as he used a device not unlike an axelgrinder by the table to re-tip his cue. ‘The gravity pockets in the vortexes are such that the planets are reduced to rubble. Depending on what the planet is made from, the resources go into all kinds of industry.’ ‘Yes, well, if you’re quite finished being interesting and, if I might add, fraternising with the minions of our enemies!’ The Fourth Manager spluttered. ‘I was simply making conversation,’ The Sixth Manager sighed. ‘There’s no reason not to be civil.’ ‘There’s every reason not to be civil!’ The Fourth Manager exploded. ‘They are the enemy! They will be destroyed when we win! We do not converse with them! We loathe them, we detest them, Christ you can spit on them if you like, but we do not make conversation with nemeses!’ The Sixth Manager ran a hand over his slicked-back hair. ‘Your life must be incredibly dull … as I recall.’ ‘Hey, fellas,’ The Tenth Dr. said, giving a sharp whistle through his teeth. ‘Hate to break up the team-talk, but we got a game goin’ on here, and I gots twenty bucks riding on it.’ ‘You’re betting on this?’ The First Dr. said, only just avoiding the urge to laugh out loud. ‘With who?’ ‘Yo!’ Beakedbard put up his hand from the other end of the makeshift diner where he and a young man by the name of Pnok –who The Tenth Dr. explained was a person he met occasionally on his own travels– had been banished to smoke their spliffs and bong without the smoke affecting the judgement or mental state of the players. Those were the words of the Fourth Manager at any rate. ‘You are making a mockery of this contest!’ The Fourth Manager protested to the room as a whole, not really sure who was more deserving of his scorn. ‘You’re far too tense,’ The Sixth Manager said as he took his shot and potted the Ringed Orange planet in the middle wormhole. ‘It will hamper your ability to play properly.’ ‘Don’t patronise me,’ The Fourth Manager snapped. ‘And what are you looking at?!’ He demanded of the seemingly empty corner at the other side of the room where six Crouton warriors stood, cloaked by their invisibility shield. ‘We were discussing amongst ourselves that those planets you are using as fodder would make excellent battle-stations for the Crouton Initiative in our struggle to rid the

Universe of the Sultana menace! You are wasting a valuable commodity! Typical Video Lords.’ ‘Charming,’ Edith said, thumbing over her shoulder at the invisible doughy aliens. ‘They’re here to provide technical advice and all they do is criticize.’ ‘Sounds familiar,’ The First Dr. said as he stepped up to take his shot. ‘That’s all I ever get from K-Y. Bitch-bitch moan-moan. Unhappy-with-life this, would-have-been-better-ifhe’d-been-constructed-and-programmed-as-a-girl that. I’m sure there’s something really wrong with that dog.’ ‘You don’t know the half of it kiddo,’ The Tenth Dr. sad, knocking back another mouthful from his hip flask. ‘Are you sure you’re still going to be able to play?’ Dazzler asked, folding his arms at The Tenth Dr. ‘You’re drinking an awful lot. These are our lives you’re playing for as well as your own.’ ‘Relax!’ The Tenth Dr. waved a dismissive hand. ‘It’ll take a whole lot more than this to get me screwed … unfortunately.’ ‘Besides,’ The First Dr. said, sticking his tongue out of the corner of his mouth as he took his own shot and potted a Purple planet. ‘You can’t play this game stone-cold-sober. You’ve got to be … just nicely tipsy. It helps.’ ‘I sincerely doubt it,’ The Sixth Manager laughed as he handed the cue to his Fourth incarnation who approached the table with furious strides and attempted to line up a shot. ‘You’re gonna miss,’ The Tenth Dr. said, peering curiously over the table. ‘I don’t need your help or your distraction,’ The Fourth Manager hissed. ‘Now, be silent or leave!’ ‘He’s got a pretty big stick up his arse hasn’t he? Hp said to The First Dr. quietly. ‘Oh yeah,’ The First Dr. nodded. ‘I’ve already had a couple of run-ins with him … cause, y’know, with our non-linear lives and stuff, you can come across later incarnations because … well … we’re both all over the place. Apparently he doesn’t win a lot in his first three lives, so he gets a little bit tetchy by the time he reaches this point.’ ‘WILL YOU STOP DISCUSSING ME AS THOUGH I AM NOT HERE!’ The Fourth Manager shouted furiously and launched the pool cur across the room where it smashed against the wall and broke into several pieces. ‘Temper, temper,’ The Sixth Manager said warningly. ‘They started it!’ The Fourth Manager bellowed. ‘You need to settle down,’ The Sixth Manager hissed. ‘Your temper is going to cost us this match. Focus!’ ‘I AM focusing!’ The Fourth Manager retorted and grabbed another cue from the rack. ‘Hey, if you want, you can take a hit of my bong,’ Beakedbard shrugged. ‘If you’re not into weed, we’ve got other stuff. Stronger stuff.’ ‘Yeah, I made some crystal-meth earlier,’ Pnok nodded, waving his hands slowly in front of his face. ‘ … But I eated it.’ ‘Ya see sport, that’s the spirit of competition right there. We’re mortal enemies and our assistants are only too happy to offer a helping hand. It gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling inside that I’m almost certain isn’t just the alcohol poisoning. Y’know, after all this is over, we should all go out drinking. I’d really like to get reacquainted with everyone.’ ‘Urgh,’ Beakedbard grunted. ‘Effort. Can’t we stay in and drink?’ ‘Bong and TV?’ Pnok intoned. ‘Sounds like it could get old fast.’ ‘We’ll get pizza too,’ Beakedbard shrugged. ‘… Glarble …’ Pnok said, drooling suddenly. ‘I think that crystal meth just kicked in,’ The First Dr. smiled. ‘I don’t know how you can all be so gung-ho about this!’ Dazzler scowled. ‘You all realize that we could very well die here today?’ ‘It’s out of our control,’ Aries shrugged. ‘There’s nothing we could do about it, even if we wanted to. I like to think I’m a realist and I know that this is completely out of my hands. No matter what I do.’ ‘Doing stuff takes effort,’ Beakedbard grunted.

‘That’s another reason not to spend all your time worrying,’ Aries nodded, not really sure how much she wanted to be associated with that unhelpful notion. ‘Oh god!’ Pnok groaned as he crawled onto the floor. ‘Somebody turn off the light! It’s too loud!’ ‘What the hell are you doing?’ Edith frowned at the long-haired man as he crawled across the room. ‘I need to be close to the ground!’ Pnok shouted. ‘I need my legs back! All my dreams are dead!’ ‘COULD WE END THE LUNACY FOR TWO FUCKING MINUTES?!’ The Fourth Manager screamed. ‘Lunacy?’ The Tenth Manager raised an eyebrow. ‘I swear,’ The Fourth Manager hissed. ‘Carry on, and I’ll disembowel you right here, right now.’ ‘And you’d get disqualified, you fool,’ The Sixth Manager snapped. ‘Now, take a deep breath, relax and concentrate on your shot.’ ‘I don’t need drugs and I certainly do not need anybody’s help!’ The Manager roared and took his shot, missing the Planet he was aiming for and accidentally potted one of The Dr.’s. ‘Hey, thanks bud!’ The Tenth Dr. grinned, giving the thumbs up. ‘I was going for that one next. You saved me the trouble. This calls for another drink. The Fourth Manager stood, fuming at the table, his nostrils flaring over his thin moustache. The Video Lord was visibly shaking with rage as he held the cue over his head and brought it down savagely, breaking it over his knee. ‘I’LL KILL YOU!’ He screeched, lunging at the throat of The Tenth Dr. with the broken ends of the cue. * ‘I wonder what his problem was,’ The Tenth Dr. shrugged as he and The First Dr. exited from the game room into the massive central podium of the Space Station that was substituting for The Futuristic Zone. ‘Search me,’ The First Dr. shrugged. ‘Some people just snap and do stupid things.’ ‘And then get themselves disqualified,’ The Third Dr. said smugly, giving the two remaining Managers a knowing, smug smile. ‘A pity,’ Raljex said sadly. ‘That was actually quite entertaining. I actually considered allowing the assault to go unchallenged it was such an amusing display. Alas, we have rules for a reason,’ he produced a crystal from his pocket and handed it to the Tenth Dr. who disappeared along with his fist incarnation in a flash of white light. ‘Cool beans!’ The Tenth Dr. remarked as he vanished. ‘One more game, gentlemen,’ Raljex said, bouncing on his heels. ‘And The Dr. leads by two points.’ ‘Then there is no reason to continue,’ The Twelfth Manager said sternly. ‘There is no reason to carry on. I have nothing to gain by facing The Dr. in another contest. I cannot win.’ ‘How many times must you be told?’ Raljex frowned –or at least, he would have frowned if he had facial features–. ‘These games are for the purpose of acquiring points to be used by your delegates in the final match. You never know, you might need every one you can get.’ ‘But there’s a chance that all these points will amount to is who gets to pick the floral arrangements?’ The Twelfth Manager hissed. ‘I won’t deny it’s a possibility,’ Raljex clucked. ‘But that would in no way be entertaining for me, which, as I’m sure you are aware, is the reason that we are here.’ ‘We’re here, fighting for our very existence!’ The Thirteenth Manager corrected. ‘Yes,’ Raljex nodded. ‘But if I don’t stay amused I’ll simply toss a coin and have done with it.’ ‘But then,’ The Third Dr. said silkily. ‘That would be in no way amusing for you.’

‘Catch Twenty-Two,’ The Fourth Dr. chimed in. ‘You’re perceptive, Dr.’ Raljex chuckled. ‘It is a great attribute … and an excessively large flaw at the same time. You all presume too much. Remember that I have the power to destroy you all if I should wish it. I suggest that The Third Dr. and The Eleventh Manager prepare themselves for the final game. There will be no need to choose the type. I have already decided the game and I have no idea what category it would fall into.’ ‘At least he’s honest,’ The Third Dr. smiled as he rose from his seat where he had been tending to his Twelfth incarnation –who was getting increasingly worse– there was barely any area of skin that was untouched by the infection and the areas that were already covered were becoming more and more mutilated as the virus destroyed The Dr.’s tissue. ‘You will each have … … … Four assistants,’ Raljex announced, putting away his dice. ‘And, for once, in this game, the assistants will not be mere bystanders with nothing to do but annoy you or add meaningless words of encouragement. They will affect the outcome of this game. Neither one of you can win without their aid … but I warn you,’ Raljex put his hand across the door, preventing the Video Lords from passing. ‘I’d think very carefully about your actions here … this game is going to be excessively unpleasant. I’ve been looking forward to it. This was my original plan for the End Game before Nigel decided to make this contest All-In. I’ve constructed something much more fitting for that purpose now. But this, Gentlemen, this is indeed a masterpiece for me.’ ‘Well then,’ The Third Dr. said stiffly. ‘No sense in delaying. I’d better get it over with, like ripping off a Band-Aid.’ ‘Indeed,’ Raljex said, letting the pair of them past and closing the door on them. ‘Though under normal circumstances, that Band-Aid doesn’t tear your arm away with it.’ * The Third Dr. fasted his red velvet coat as he strode onto what looked to be the Command Deck of a Video Lord Dreadnaught. The cool orange and blue lights that surrounded him always reminded him of that scene in The Empire Strikes Back with the carbon-freezing chamber. But there would be plenty of time to think about such things when it was more appropriate. All of the Video Lord craft had been destroyed in the Time War. This reconstruction made The Dr. uneasy. When he had last stood in this position aboard a Dreadnaught, Cerellia had handed him the Nexus Device and given him instructions to detonate it should the tide of battle turn against the Betamax fleet. The Third Dr. had been aware of it ever since he arrived in this realm of games. He had been taken moments after he had destroyed The Video Lords in that senseless act of sacrifice. When he returned to where he came from, all that awaited him was degeneration. There were small radiation burns on his hands from where the process had already started. But there would be plenty of time to dwell on that later. If he survived. Right now, he had a game to play. He stepped forwards to the massive console that would normally be manned by no less than twelve Video Lords. That was minimal staff. What he was supposed to do was beyond him. There was no way he could pilot a Dreadnaught. Not on his own. ‘Good job you’re not alone,’ A tall, wiry-haired man said as he appeared next to The Dr. ‘A telepath,’ The Dr. remarked, looking the man up and down. ‘You’ll have to forgive me, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m The Dr.’ ‘I’m a good friend of your next incarnation,’ the tall man replied. ‘You can call me Chris … I’m the last of the Martians.’ ‘Hmmm,’ The Dr. said, patting his chin. ‘You don’t look all that Martian-y.’ Chris nodded and morphed himself into his gigantic green Martian form. ‘Better?’ ‘Yep,’ The Dr. nodded. ‘Definitely a Martian.’ ‘As though there was any doubt,’ Manhunter puffed.

‘I thought I was getting four assistants,’ The Dr. said conversationally, glancing over his shoulder and finding his legs suddenly too weak to support him. ‘No,’ he rasped. ‘No, for the love of the gods, not them.’ ‘Dr.?’ Jayne Watson said as she and Dodge cautiously stepped out of a side-corridor and approached the console. ‘No! No! No! DAMN IT ALL RALJEX!’ The Dr. screamed at the ceiling. ‘They had no part in this! Why did you bring them here?!’ ‘Dr., it’s okay,’ Dodge said, stepping forwards. ‘There’s no way we’d let you go through these trials without us by your side.’ ‘There’s no way you’d survive without me anyhow,’ Watson smiled, laying her hand affectionately on The Dr.’s cheek. ‘I’ve missed you. I really have.’ ‘I’ve missed you too, Watson,’ The Dr. nodded. ‘I’ve been through hell since I last saw you.’ ‘I’ve been dead since I last saw you,’ Dodge shrugged. ‘We’ve all had stuff to deal with. Shit happens.’ ‘Good to see you as well, Dodge,’ The Dr. smiled. ‘But you both realize what’s going to happen if I don’t win this contest?’ ‘I know,’ Jayne nodded. ‘I don’t think the Universe would be worth living in without you in it. I’d rather die at your side here than living a full life and never knowing you.’ ‘Thankyou,’ The Dr. whispered, aware that another person had joined them. ‘And who else from my past has Raljex served up to …’ The Dr. stopped short as he recognized the person stood before him. He had only met him briefly, but he could tell by the look of fury on the man’s face that The Dr. had left a lasting impression. ‘You!’ Red gasped, trembling slightly. ‘Red,’ Manhunter said, stepping forwards. ‘You ruined my life,’ Red said simply, glaring at The Dr. ‘The man in the Red Velvet Coat. You haunted me. I lost my job because of you.’ ‘Red, you and The Dr. squared all this away a long time ago,’ Manhunter said sternly in Red’s ear. ‘This is different,’ Red scowled. ‘I reconciled with the other Dr. This is the actual one that got me fired! The one that made me think I was insane!’ ‘I remember you,’ The Dr. said softly. ‘I remember and I’m sorry … but those are just words. If you feel you need to hit me or scream at me, then go for it. Get it out of your system now before we begin.’ ‘No,’ Red shook his head. ‘We’re here to play a game. If we survive, you find me and then we’ll settle this.’ ‘Fair enough,’ The Dr. nodded, turning back to the console where Raljex’s image had appeared on one of the screens. ‘Hello gentlemen … and lady,’ he nodded at Watson. ‘Welcome to the last game in my trials. I think you’ll both find it … familiar.’ The large view screen at the far end of the Dreadnaught’s display flicked into life, displaying The Eleventh Manager’s image. The Dr. remembered the last time he had spoken to this incarnation of The Manager over a video link. He quickly cast the thought aside. He didn’t want to think about that right now. ‘Good, we’re all here,’ Raljex said happily. ‘I wanted to explain this game in person. As you can see, you are both situated on the command deck of a sizeable attack vessel. Though, I’m betting that the Dr. has been far too busy catching up with old friends that he has not yet realized that an entire battle fleet is spread out at each of your disposal.’ A large table-top map of space erupted into life behind The Dr., creating a threedimensional image of a massive star system. Positioned at either end of the board were two giant battle fleets. The system looked all too familiar to The Dr. ‘I trust that you realize what is happening here, now that you see the full scale of this game,’ Raljex continued. ‘The name of this exercise is Battle re-enactment. Though, we’ll be applying a turn-based strategy to make it that much more fun.’ ‘No,’ The Dr. said quietly, his eyes wide.

‘The Dr. will be playing the side of The Video Lords,’ Raljex laughed. ‘The Manager will be rooting for the opposition.’ ‘But The Manager and I were on the same side in the Time War!’ The Dr. shouted. ‘I didn’t say it would be historically accurate,’ Raljex hummed. ‘Now, direct your fleets into battle. You’ll obviously have to begin construction of new ships. To do this, you’ll have to gain control of the planets around you and harvest their resources. I wouldn’t recommend an out-right attack on each other’s fleets just yet. It won’t be nearly as spectacular as it could be. There are three minds of incalculable intelligence directing this war now. Let’s see what comes of it. Think of it as Risk but just that little bit more … spacey.’ ‘Three minds?’ Manhunter wrinkled his nose. ‘Are you saying that you’re joining in, Raljex?’ ‘Don’t be so simple, Martian,’ The Eleventh Manager chuckled from his view screen. ‘He was referring to my head assistant. This battle may not be completely accurate, but it’s near enough for my liking.’ The Manager stepped aside to allow The Dr. a view of the dark command deck behind him. Large shapes moved in the inky ill-lit background, gliding as if on wheels around an individual seated in a large chair. An individual who’s singular glowing cycloptic eye was blazing at The Dr. ‘No!’ The Dr. hissed, his eyes wide. ‘TARGET ACQUIRED!’ Lights flashed along with the words that came from one of the large shapes that were still moving to-and-fro in the blackness. ‘No, it can’t be, Raljex, you wouldn’t!’ ‘Oh, but he would,’ The Manager sneered. ‘And I have,’ Raljex said from his own screen which suddenly went blank. ‘ENEMY IDENTIFIED!’ Another of the shapes screeched in its horrible metallic mono-tone voice. ‘IT IS THE DR.!’ The third moving shape exclaimed. ‘AWAITING INSTRUCTIONS FROM COMMANDING OFFICER!’ The first shape said, turning to the being in the chair, who’s glowing eye seemed to burn even brighter. ‘My pets,’ The hideous, mutilated voice rasped. ‘There is only one course of action to be taken where The Dr. is concerned …’ The lights came up ever so slightly to reveal the mass of white hair plastered to the disfigured, near skeletal face. The brain of the individual was clearly visible as it expanded out beyond the confines of the skull that had proven too small to accommodate it. Blackened teeth were bared at the Dr. as the red eye in the centre of the monster’s forehead narrowed at The Dr. ‘Madross,’ The Dr. gasped. ‘He must be Sexterminated!’ Madross cackled, pointing the gnarled hand of his only arm at The Dr. ‘SEXTERMINATE! SEXTERMINATE!’ The three Darlin’s that had been circling their creator exclaimed in unison. ‘Oh my god,’ Watson said, covering her mouth with her hands, allowing Dodge to hug her tightly to him. ‘SEXTERMINATE!’ The Darlin’s chanted as The Manager cackled at them over the video feed. ‘This can’t be happening,’ The Dr. said, pounding the console. ‘SEXTERMINATE!’ ‘They’re dead! They’re supposed to be dead!’ ‘SEXTERMINATE! SEXTERMINATE! SEXTERMINATE!’ ‘Dear god, Raljex … what have you done?’ ‘SEXTERMINATE! SEXTERMINATE! SEXTERMINATE!’