Doctor Who: Rags Read Free

see what on earth he was up to,’ the Doctor was sure he would have to kill him. He loved the man dearly, of course - although he would never have admitted it - but there were limits to any Time Lord’s patience. Jo was bad enough, knocking over his instruments and bumbling around in general, but at least she giggled her way out of his bad books. The Brig, bless him, just became bluff and flustery if he ruined one of the Doctor’s experiments with his clumsy curiosity: red in the face, and acting as though it was the Doctor’s fault for having the blasted delicate instruments in his way in the first place.
    But right now, at least, peace reigned in the UNIT laboratory.
    The Brigadier had been absent for a good half-hour and Jo had retired to bed. This was the best time for endless experiments with the ineffable mysteries of the dematerialisation process -
    embodied in the infernally prosaic form of the circuit now cradled between two sensors on his desk. This was when he could really concentrate, could strain his consciousness, and indeed his subconsciousness, for the slightest trace of meaning; for the faintest of clues, remembered or only imagined.
    And always the clues were there, and always they remained just beyond his grasp.
    It was as the Doctor was reaching an almost trancelike state of mind with the spark of knowledge just beginning to glow in the darkness of his amnesia, that the Brigadier chose to visit the lab again.
    For once he didn’t come out with some inane comment, but merely stood just inside the doorway, swagger stick tucked importantly under one arm, hands crossed behind his back. The Doctor tried his utmost to block the intruding presence from his mind, turning his back obstinately towards his guest and bending over the dematerialisation circuit. It was too late, of course: the 13
     
    firefly glow of incipient knowledge had winked out again.
    Gone.Maybe for ever. The Doctor closed his eyes and sighed heavily, as if all the woes of the universe were upon him - which of course they were, and now he had the burden of the Brigadier to add to them.
    ‘I take it you’re bored, Lethbridge-Stewart?’ the Doctor said resignedly.
    The Brigadier took this as his cue to advance into the room, like a vampire receiving a welcome invitation. ‘I’m too busy to be bored, Doctor. On the contrary, there seem to be a million and one things demanding my attention.’
    The
    Doctor
    turned
    to
    him,
    his
    face
    stern
    and
    unaccommodating: Then why in the blazes don’t you treat one of them to a little bit of that attention, instead of continually barging in here pestering me?’
    The Brigadier tried his best to look unfazed by this rebuke, only the merest hitching of his moustache betraying his irritation at being so directly challenged.
    ‘May I remind you, Doctor, that this laboratory remains under my authority and that I am responsible for everything that -’
    ‘What are you frightened of, Brigadier? D’you think I’m going to try to sneak off in the TARDIS as soon as your back’s turned, like an errant schoolboy playing truant?’
    The Brigadier’s eyes twinkled with victory. He knew he had won this little argument. ‘It wouldn’t be the first time, would it Doctor?’
    The Doctor surveyed him gravely for an instant. Then his irritation subsided a little. He had the grace to realise when he had been outmanoeuvred. He allowed his friend a little smile and turned back to his desk. ‘Yes, well, you really have no need for concern on that score. I’m not going anywhere.’
    The Brigadier strode up to the circuit that was perched like a metallic sausage on a barbecue-spit between the two sensor probes, and said, ‘What on earth are you up to, anyway?’
    The Doctor’s smile vanished. He was about to lose his 14
     
    graciousness altogether when the circuit suddenly emitted a harsh buzz, flipped into the air - narrowly missing the astonished Brigadier’s head - and clattered to the floor a good ten