Interlude 2: A big silver space ship was hovering above the oceans of the Collector’s world. The zoo was an underwater establishment, as the Collector himself was aquatic in origin. The blue waters glittered in the distant sunlight and the silver space ship was so overly polished that it looked like a mirror. Inside it, the planet is being viewed through a huge, shimmering, holographic screen. The ship is dark, a purposeful decision to improve the inhabitants night vision - useful for hunting. Despite looking horrendously clean, the ship smells. For the inhabitants, everything is labelled by scent, and there are some really… interesting odours about. One of the creatures within growls something, and accompanies the message with some more… odours, put across to emphasise points. The language is twofold. Communication is achieved to a level humans cannot comprehend, by the harmony of sound and scent in “talking”. The gravely voice talks of war. ‘Plant the tectonic bombs across the surface of the world. Even if the hunting pack should fail, the glory of the Canines shall not be lost.’ At this point the speaker stepped into the light of the holographic screen, his heavily armoured form resembling a six-foot Rottweiler on its hind legs. ‘The last of the Felines shall die!’ An excerpt from “Nick McShane: The Trials Of A Time Traveller” (An unofficial biography, and companion to the official version, by Oolon Coluphid) At this point in his biorhythmic life cycle, McShane was at low ebb. His body’s natural internal rhythms were being particularly slow, explaining, perhaps, the tiredness which seems to have caused his lazy handwriting in all written Journal excerpts from this period. This in its self may account for something of the nature of the strange tale of, “The Collector.” It was about this time that McShane took to titling and sectioning off accounts of particularly interesting incidents, having initiated the process with a title for his last little misadventure, “The Mirror and the Pomegranate.” Many people have been somewhat… speculative of whether a story such as “The Collector” could have actually really happened. It does seem a little improbable, and it comes just after an improbably long string of interesting events. The adventure would most undoubtedly take place in our future, otherwise we too would be aware of the zoo. But even then - it is a little unlikely, isn’t it. Go on, you know it is really. As always, the only evidence we have from this period is the writings from McShane’s journal, and as such, we have nothing to contradict or corroborate the story. So now let me put forward my little theory. Due to the lazy handwriting, and the fact Nick McShane shows considerable energy in this story for someone at the low point of their biorhythm cycle and the fact the narrative is extraordinarily detailed from the other people’s points of view, I’d like to suggest this: he was lying. Think about it, look at all the evidence above and then consider this. You’ve just had a long string of adventures, the last one involving a writer of great fiction. You’re sitting in a stuffy little shop on Alpha Centauri, with nothing else to do, waiting to depart to Taureus II. You’re bored! So… what do you do? You make up a story to amuse yourself. McShane, while providing interesting accounts, was hardly one for restraint, so that would account for the improbable narrative. It just seems so likely. So, while reading that chapter in the published journals (edited by myself and available from Virgine Publishing at the bargain price of 99999999 Gorargles) just consider this possibility: it’s probably a load of old cobblers. Excerpt ends. The Past: The Doctor had spent hours doing it, but he had managed to secure the removal of the species the Collector had mentioned earlier from the guest list. The Collector was also promising to show him the entire list any day now. In the meantime, the Doctor was enjoying wandering the corridors of the zoo. He’d been equipped with a dry suit, a sort of force field with nanoscopic particles inside, functioning as oxygen factories. The Collector had some impressive technology here. Without the dry suit, the Doctor doubted he would be able to hold his breath for long enough to swim the corridors. But perhaps he didn’t really want to anyway. It was depressing, looking at all the creatures in their habitats, behaving like animals for the as-yet-to-arrive paying public. At least he’d had a chance to get out of his own enclosure. He started fingering the collar the Collector had given him and felt his blood rising again. He’d only just got his thoughts back in order after the Collector had jumped inside his brain when he was reprogramming the amulets. He didn’t want to get in huff or he might jumble them up again. He could hear Nick rushing up to him through the corridors. The fake gravity of the dry-suits was designed to prevent seasickness, but it also transmitted noise from suit to suit too - even simulating an echo. It was almost too impressive. ‘Hey Doctor!’ ‘Hello Nick.’ ‘The Collector sent me. The second guest party have arrived, in what looks like a giant silver kennel.’ The Doctor feigned interest, not wanting to squash Nick’s enthusiasm. ‘Wanna come meet ’em?’ ‘Not right now Nick, no. To tell the truth, I think I object to being treated as a diplomat. I feel as much an exhibit out of my cage as in it.’ Nick looked a little disapproving but let it go. ‘Suit yourself. See ya later.’ The Doctor smiled at Nick and the human smiled back. The last human. Well, one of the last two, technically, but by the time the Doctor had that sorted out, Nick was bounding away up the corridor again. The Doctor turned back to his “walk,” sulking at his lack of control. Perhaps it was best Nick was gone - it was hardly the sort of image he wanted to promote: a four-hundred-year-old teenager was not how the Doctor wanted people to think of him. Then he froze. Another presence had just entered his mind. Not the Collector, something… different. Something evil. The Doctor was horrified as its thoughts flaked away into his mind. A terror he’d never felt before lanced through him. Such incredible evil! How could anything be so… alien, so malign? He couldn’t see anything in his mind’s eye, but then he realised - it was too big for his mind to comprehend. It was out of focus. One of its simpler concepts appeared at the forefront of his mind. A mouth. A giant jaw full of bloodstained, ancient, razor-sharp teeth. His mind oozed pain as it sunk the teeth into his higher mind. With a shock he realised his actual brain was bleeding too. Blood vessels were bursting under the stress and leaking down his eyeballs. The thing produced a long, serpentine tongue and slavered over his mind as it tore it to shreds. Oh my, the Doctor thought. My mind… I’m going to die. The Now: that is why I must be here here is… unknown here is… no… not now pain i know what i have to do now PAIN mental echoes of… PAIN overwhelming my mind PAIN no no no no not now not now PAIN not when i know what i have to do PAIN to search those memories PAIN to find… hidden clue PAIN to be overwhelmed by an echo PAIN what are you PAIN what PAIN wh… PAIN oh no… PAIN not you not PAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINN End of Chapter One 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |