Fic: There Was a Master in a Game (7/25)
Title: There Was a Master in a Game
Author: azriona
Characters: The Master mostly. This week’s guest star is Lynda Moss.
Rating: PG-13 for language
Spoilers: Everything. The majority takes place after The End of Time, but there are references to events through the end of Season Five.
Betas: runriggers and earlgreytea68
Summary: Gallifrey wasn’t entirely lost when it went back into the Time Lock; it just got stuck. The Master wants out. Isn’t he lucky that the Doctor left him a way?
Chapters One ~ Two ~ Three ~ Four ~ Five ~ Six
Chapter Seven: Diagonal Right
The Master studied his chart. “There’s eight squares I won’t ever see, because I’m in the center and I won’t intersect with them,” he told the Time Lords at the table, as if they were listening. “But since I’m in the center square, there’s five worlds I can visit, so I should have plenty of opportunity to get an idea of what might be there, based on what’s going on in the worlds I can. Piece. Of. Cake. Not like you lot know what cake is.”
One of the Time Lords turned to another. “Romana? What’s cake?”
“Earth concoction. Comes in a variety of flavors. I liked coconut.”
“I hate coconut,” said the Time Lord. He looked at the Master. “You can have your cake.”
“And eat it, too,” chimed in Romana.
“I hate you all,” said the Master, and was gone.
*
Lynda looked up, ready to snap a witty response - but the man in the sweatshirt was gone.
“Damn,” she swore, and went back to the control panel. Just as quickly, she went from being aggravated by the Master’s presence to being aggravated by his sudden disappearance.
Also, he was right, which was even worse. Three ray guns left, ninety seconds to disable them. Of course, just one ray gun wouldn’t bring down the Sycorax ship, but that was almost worse - a half-hearted shot might convince the Sycorax to turn around and fire on London, and there was no way that would end well.
Lynda decided that if such an event occurred, she wasn’t going to go back. Going back would amount to being fired, and if necessary, Lynda could just set up shop in the 21st century and do very well.
Lynda slammed the control panel shut and hurried to the next, and didn’t notice that the Master had returned until she slammed into him, knocking them both over. He fell on top of her. Lynda screamed.
“Hello to you, too,” said the Master. “Ow.”
“Get out of my way!” yelled Lynda, and scrambled out from under his legs. The Master didn’t stop her, but he didn’t get up, either. Instead, he rolled to his side and propped his head up on his hand.
“Whattcha doin’?”
“I thought we had this conversation already.”
“I’m just wondering why you’re going so fast?”
Lynda didn’t answer him.
“Since time’s stopped and all.”
Lynda looked up.
The world was….different. Lynda wasn’t sure how she hadn’t noticed it before; then, she’d been so intent on disabling the ray guns that it was no wonder she hadn’t noticed that the pigeons on the far end of the rooftop had not only stopped cooing, but they’d stopped making any sort of movement at all. One was even perched on the edge, just about to take flight. Its wings were spread, and only its toes touched the wall. Lynda’s mouth dropped open, and then she quickly scanned the sky for the Sycorax ship.
It hung just above London, exactly where it had been the last she looked. There was a plume of smoke coming from one end, motionless.
“What the-?“ began Lynda.
The Master held a chunky, golden metallic contraption in his hand, a bit like an extremely long ballpoint pen. “Advantages of being a Time Lord. Ever run into one?”
“No,” said Lynda, and blinked.
The Master sighed. “There you go blinking again. No matter. I’ve got a few questions, and since you’re on a rather tight time frame-“
“How are you doing this?” demanded Lynda.
“Says the girl with a Vortex Manipulator on her wrist?” asked the Master, eyebrows raised. “You jump through time, I stop it. I could give you a demonstration, but it would require starting time up again….” He wiggled the golden rod in his hand, almost a taunt in itself.
“No,” said Lynda quickly. “It’s okay, I believe you. Thanks.” She wasn’t entirely sure he deserved the gratitude, but no way would Lynda look a gift horse in the mouth. She continued working on the control panel. Her heart was still pounding, and her fingers shook. She wasn’t sure if it was nerves or the effects of whatever he was doing with the way time moved.
“Right, so,” said the Master. Out of the corner of her eye, Lynda saw him sit up and pull a wad of rolled up paper from his back pocket. “You don’t work for Torchwood, is that correct?”
“No,” said Lynda, concentrating on the connections. Blue from green, remove the red, hold the purple for five seconds, replace red with yellow as purple is released….
“Have you ever?”
Lynda snorted.
“I’ll take that as a no?”
Blue back to green, depress purple again, seven seconds…
“But this is Torchwood, where we are. And you’re here. You came specifically to Torchwood.”
Lynda froze. “Are you Torchwood?”
The Master held up his playstick again. “Don’t insult me.”
“Sorry!” muttered Lynda, and returned to the panel. Had it been seven seconds already?
“Know any tin dogs?”
“I could get this done a lot faster if you stopped talking.”
“What part of frozen time did you not understand? You aren’t very clever, are you?”
“No,” said Lynda sweetly, “but people say I’m sweet.”
The man froze. “Say that again?”
Lynda glanced at him. “I graduated top of the training class. I know what I’m doing.”
“That’s not what you said.”
“What are you, deaf?”
“And people call you sweet?”
Lynda ignored him.
“Do you know anything about Torchwood?” asked the Master.
“I know I have one more ray gun to disable,” said Lynda. “And that they keep a madman on their rooftop.”
“So you don’t even know why they’re firing at that Sycorax ship?”
Lynda glared at him.
The Master stared at her for a half-second before he started laughing. “You don’t! You’re just a corporate drone!”
“I am not a corporate drone,” hissed Lynda.
“Oh, this is too much,” giggled the Master. He looked at his papers again. “Let’s recap. Your name is Linda-“
Lynda froze. “How do you know my name?”
“You told me,” said the Master, not looking up. “You don’t work for Torchwood, never have never will-“
“No, go back,” said Lynda, her attention torn from the control panel. “I didn’t tell you my name.”
The Master frowned. “No, that’s right. The other Linda did.”
“What other Lynda?” said Lynda, growing more frantic now. “A future me? Did you meet a future me, and she told you my name?”
“Our name, actually, if you’re referring to yourself in the plural,” corrected the Master. “But no, I didn’t meet a future you. She couldn’t disable a ray gun if it came with pre-printed instructions, apparently.”
“She who?”
“Oh, I forgot,” said the Master, eyes still on his papers. “Don’t suppose you know any other blonde chits? But better hair and more buxom?”
Lynda stood up. She walked over to the Master. She slapped him.
Hard.
And she waited, while the Master dropped the papers to his side.
“You slapped me,” he said dully.
“Oh, you noticed?” said Lynda icily.
“You slapped me,” he repeated.
“What, sweet people don’t go ‘round slapping madmen?”
“Well, no, but it’s more that you slapped me and you’re not running away.”
“Planning on throwing me off the rooftop?” asked Lynda. “Kind of put a damper on your history of meeting me in the future, wouldn’t it?”
“I didn’t meet a future you,” said the Master, exasperated. “And anyway, time doesn’t work like that.”
“How do you know my name?” demanded Lynda.
The Master frowned and looked over her shoulder. “You’re not disabling ray guns anymore.”
“You stopped time,” Lynda pointed out. “So I’m not exactly in a hurry.”
He rubbed his cheek. “You don’t know any other-“ A quick glance at Lynda’s tumultuous eyes made him swallow. “Just asking.”
“No,” said Lynda icily. “All my friends are brunettes. And none of them are into guys.”
The Master swallowed.
“I’m going to disable the last ray gun now,” said Lynda. “You’re going to keep your mouth shut.”
Lynda headed back to the last ray gun. Already the adrenaline was beginning to wear off - and her hand was tingling a bit from the slap. Lynda couldn’t believe she’d actually done it - she’d never so much as killed a spider in her life, and here she was, disabling ray guns on rooftops and slapping madmen for insulting women everywhere.
Also, it had been fun. She might have to take up slapping as a hobby.
“They call you sweet?” asked the Master.
“Who knew?” said Lynda saucily. But when she looked over her shoulder, he was gone.
Time, however, lurched straight ahead, and with the onslaught of noise and pigeons taking wing, Lynda raced for the last ray gun, her heart pounding in her chest, the adrenaline back in her bloodstream.
*
The Time Lords were still working on the same cards when the Master returned.
“She slapped me,” he said, affronted.
“Told you humans had some redeeming value,” Romana said to the table in general.
“Oh, shut up!”
Chapter Eight
Author: azriona
Characters: The Master mostly. This week’s guest star is Lynda Moss.
Rating: PG-13 for language
Spoilers: Everything. The majority takes place after The End of Time, but there are references to events through the end of Season Five.
Betas: runriggers and earlgreytea68
Summary: Gallifrey wasn’t entirely lost when it went back into the Time Lock; it just got stuck. The Master wants out. Isn’t he lucky that the Doctor left him a way?
Chapters One ~ Two ~ Three ~ Four ~ Five ~ Six
Chapter Seven: Diagonal Right
The Master studied his chart. “There’s eight squares I won’t ever see, because I’m in the center and I won’t intersect with them,” he told the Time Lords at the table, as if they were listening. “But since I’m in the center square, there’s five worlds I can visit, so I should have plenty of opportunity to get an idea of what might be there, based on what’s going on in the worlds I can. Piece. Of. Cake. Not like you lot know what cake is.”
One of the Time Lords turned to another. “Romana? What’s cake?”
“Earth concoction. Comes in a variety of flavors. I liked coconut.”
“I hate coconut,” said the Time Lord. He looked at the Master. “You can have your cake.”
“And eat it, too,” chimed in Romana.
“I hate you all,” said the Master, and was gone.
*
Lynda looked up, ready to snap a witty response - but the man in the sweatshirt was gone.
“Damn,” she swore, and went back to the control panel. Just as quickly, she went from being aggravated by the Master’s presence to being aggravated by his sudden disappearance.
Also, he was right, which was even worse. Three ray guns left, ninety seconds to disable them. Of course, just one ray gun wouldn’t bring down the Sycorax ship, but that was almost worse - a half-hearted shot might convince the Sycorax to turn around and fire on London, and there was no way that would end well.
Lynda decided that if such an event occurred, she wasn’t going to go back. Going back would amount to being fired, and if necessary, Lynda could just set up shop in the 21st century and do very well.
Lynda slammed the control panel shut and hurried to the next, and didn’t notice that the Master had returned until she slammed into him, knocking them both over. He fell on top of her. Lynda screamed.
“Hello to you, too,” said the Master. “Ow.”
“Get out of my way!” yelled Lynda, and scrambled out from under his legs. The Master didn’t stop her, but he didn’t get up, either. Instead, he rolled to his side and propped his head up on his hand.
“Whattcha doin’?”
“I thought we had this conversation already.”
“I’m just wondering why you’re going so fast?”
Lynda didn’t answer him.
“Since time’s stopped and all.”
Lynda looked up.
The world was….different. Lynda wasn’t sure how she hadn’t noticed it before; then, she’d been so intent on disabling the ray guns that it was no wonder she hadn’t noticed that the pigeons on the far end of the rooftop had not only stopped cooing, but they’d stopped making any sort of movement at all. One was even perched on the edge, just about to take flight. Its wings were spread, and only its toes touched the wall. Lynda’s mouth dropped open, and then she quickly scanned the sky for the Sycorax ship.
It hung just above London, exactly where it had been the last she looked. There was a plume of smoke coming from one end, motionless.
“What the-?“ began Lynda.
The Master held a chunky, golden metallic contraption in his hand, a bit like an extremely long ballpoint pen. “Advantages of being a Time Lord. Ever run into one?”
“No,” said Lynda, and blinked.
The Master sighed. “There you go blinking again. No matter. I’ve got a few questions, and since you’re on a rather tight time frame-“
“How are you doing this?” demanded Lynda.
“Says the girl with a Vortex Manipulator on her wrist?” asked the Master, eyebrows raised. “You jump through time, I stop it. I could give you a demonstration, but it would require starting time up again….” He wiggled the golden rod in his hand, almost a taunt in itself.
“No,” said Lynda quickly. “It’s okay, I believe you. Thanks.” She wasn’t entirely sure he deserved the gratitude, but no way would Lynda look a gift horse in the mouth. She continued working on the control panel. Her heart was still pounding, and her fingers shook. She wasn’t sure if it was nerves or the effects of whatever he was doing with the way time moved.
“Right, so,” said the Master. Out of the corner of her eye, Lynda saw him sit up and pull a wad of rolled up paper from his back pocket. “You don’t work for Torchwood, is that correct?”
“No,” said Lynda, concentrating on the connections. Blue from green, remove the red, hold the purple for five seconds, replace red with yellow as purple is released….
“Have you ever?”
Lynda snorted.
“I’ll take that as a no?”
Blue back to green, depress purple again, seven seconds…
“But this is Torchwood, where we are. And you’re here. You came specifically to Torchwood.”
Lynda froze. “Are you Torchwood?”
The Master held up his playstick again. “Don’t insult me.”
“Sorry!” muttered Lynda, and returned to the panel. Had it been seven seconds already?
“Know any tin dogs?”
“I could get this done a lot faster if you stopped talking.”
“What part of frozen time did you not understand? You aren’t very clever, are you?”
“No,” said Lynda sweetly, “but people say I’m sweet.”
The man froze. “Say that again?”
Lynda glanced at him. “I graduated top of the training class. I know what I’m doing.”
“That’s not what you said.”
“What are you, deaf?”
“And people call you sweet?”
Lynda ignored him.
“Do you know anything about Torchwood?” asked the Master.
“I know I have one more ray gun to disable,” said Lynda. “And that they keep a madman on their rooftop.”
“So you don’t even know why they’re firing at that Sycorax ship?”
Lynda glared at him.
The Master stared at her for a half-second before he started laughing. “You don’t! You’re just a corporate drone!”
“I am not a corporate drone,” hissed Lynda.
“Oh, this is too much,” giggled the Master. He looked at his papers again. “Let’s recap. Your name is Linda-“
Lynda froze. “How do you know my name?”
“You told me,” said the Master, not looking up. “You don’t work for Torchwood, never have never will-“
“No, go back,” said Lynda, her attention torn from the control panel. “I didn’t tell you my name.”
The Master frowned. “No, that’s right. The other Linda did.”
“What other Lynda?” said Lynda, growing more frantic now. “A future me? Did you meet a future me, and she told you my name?”
“Our name, actually, if you’re referring to yourself in the plural,” corrected the Master. “But no, I didn’t meet a future you. She couldn’t disable a ray gun if it came with pre-printed instructions, apparently.”
“She who?”
“Oh, I forgot,” said the Master, eyes still on his papers. “Don’t suppose you know any other blonde chits? But better hair and more buxom?”
Lynda stood up. She walked over to the Master. She slapped him.
Hard.
And she waited, while the Master dropped the papers to his side.
“You slapped me,” he said dully.
“Oh, you noticed?” said Lynda icily.
“You slapped me,” he repeated.
“What, sweet people don’t go ‘round slapping madmen?”
“Well, no, but it’s more that you slapped me and you’re not running away.”
“Planning on throwing me off the rooftop?” asked Lynda. “Kind of put a damper on your history of meeting me in the future, wouldn’t it?”
“I didn’t meet a future you,” said the Master, exasperated. “And anyway, time doesn’t work like that.”
“How do you know my name?” demanded Lynda.
The Master frowned and looked over her shoulder. “You’re not disabling ray guns anymore.”
“You stopped time,” Lynda pointed out. “So I’m not exactly in a hurry.”
He rubbed his cheek. “You don’t know any other-“ A quick glance at Lynda’s tumultuous eyes made him swallow. “Just asking.”
“No,” said Lynda icily. “All my friends are brunettes. And none of them are into guys.”
The Master swallowed.
“I’m going to disable the last ray gun now,” said Lynda. “You’re going to keep your mouth shut.”
Lynda headed back to the last ray gun. Already the adrenaline was beginning to wear off - and her hand was tingling a bit from the slap. Lynda couldn’t believe she’d actually done it - she’d never so much as killed a spider in her life, and here she was, disabling ray guns on rooftops and slapping madmen for insulting women everywhere.
Also, it had been fun. She might have to take up slapping as a hobby.
“They call you sweet?” asked the Master.
“Who knew?” said Lynda saucily. But when she looked over her shoulder, he was gone.
Time, however, lurched straight ahead, and with the onslaught of noise and pigeons taking wing, Lynda raced for the last ray gun, her heart pounding in her chest, the adrenaline back in her bloodstream.
*
The Time Lords were still working on the same cards when the Master returned.
“She slapped me,” he said, affronted.
“Told you humans had some redeeming value,” Romana said to the table in general.
“Oh, shut up!”
Chapter Eight