Master - Uses locked Tardis

He held open a blue door and ushered her through. The room beyond was bathed in red light. Its circular walls almost seemed to be painted in blood – dark in places where it had dried. But she knew it was just the energy from the central pillar – a dark metallic mesh around a mushroom of modern computer screens, antiquated handles, oversized buttons and bizarre pieces of junk.

Her husband moved around this technological terror he had created, almost dancing with glee. Then he abruptly came to a halt and collapsed into a battered cream chair on the far side of the pillar. Lucy had to follow him around it to see his face. He was smiling, eyebrows raised.

‘Are you ready?’ he asked.

‘I think so,’ she replied.

He laughed. It had a manic tinge to it. ‘How could you be? You’re about to travel in time. It’s fraught with danger. That’s why I can’t go.’

He rose from the chair and came over to cup her chin in his gloved hand. She couldn’t recall when she had last felt his skin. For this, at least, she was grateful.

‘You wouldn’t want anything to happen to me, would you?’ he asked, putting on a faux sad tone, his lips pouting.

Lucy hesitated. His grip tightened. ‘Would you?’ This last through angry, clenched teeth.

Lucy tried to look him in the eye and shook her head, forcing a smile onto her lips.

‘Of course not, Harry.’ She felt the tear role down her cheek.

‘So it’s “Harry” today, is it?’ he asked, letting her face drop as he snatched his hand away. ‘And of course I can’t go because I’ll be recognised.’

Lucy was confused. He’d said he was sending her into the past – or at least another time zone. ‘By who?’

He laughed again, a brief manic outburst. ‘You mean “whom”.’ He paused and came up to her again. ‘By myself, of course!’

She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry. I forgot.’

‘Marry a Time Lord and you forget we can have different bodies.’ He held up a datapad and pointed to a spot on the floor. ‘Never mind. Just stand there.’

She moved into position. He came forward once more, but this time he was handing her something.

‘Matrix Data Slices,’ he said. ‘Please remember them. It’s vital to the future of us all.’ He gave her a package. ‘Nine to be precise. Detailing every single past encounter with my friend out there. The one in the cage. Make sure you call him my “best enemy”.’

Lucy frowned. ‘You mean the …’

Harry put a leather finger to her lips. ‘Don’t say his name. There’s no need for that.’ He came forward and took Lucy’s left hand. He toyed with her wedding ring. ‘Remember,’ he said. ‘Activate this when you have what I want. The projector will reverse and you’ll be back here. I’ll be waiting.’

He stood back from her now, his expression neutral. Then he blew out his cheeks. ‘Good luck!’ He drummed his fingers on the rail that circled the pillar – that peculiar four-tone tippity-tap. Then he lifted one hand to the datapad and waved with the other. ‘Byeee!’

The circular room faded from view.

(...)

‘But I’m afraid it’s out of the question.’ He sat down again. ‘You must think me a fool! Do you really expect me to believe this tale? You just want to borrow my TARDIS!’

‘It’s true,’ Lucy replied. She was nervous now. What if the man did not agree to this? Harry would be angry. And that never ended well. ‘Please, you must believe me.’

‘Must I?’ the man sighed. ‘You may not realise this, but we Time Lords are highly attuned to time travel. The only way you could have come here is using a very limited osmic projector jury-rigged from a TARDIS console – probably one that isn’t working properly.’

Lucy’s face fell.

‘So if you have a TARDIS, why do you need mine?’ he continued. ‘Shall I tell you? Because you want to find its location. This is plainly a ruse employed by my “best enemy” who – as you know – has only just left here having asked me the where-abouts of my TARDIS!’

(...)

‘He was always obsessed,’ he muttered. ‘Obsessed!’ Harry turned back to her now. ‘I was always convinced it was him, every setback, every issue. The devil’s in the detail.’

He came back to the leather chair and picked up the datapad.

‘I was wrong to send you to him, but I only have three time-traces so we’re pretty limited on options!’

***

Myths & Legends, The Unwanted Gift of Prophesy