The nights were getting colder; either that or his body was wearing a bit
thin. As he trudged through the snow the old man noticed a few more aches and
pains, but he fully expected to get a few more years out of his body. He was
first to admit that his current form was past its prime, but he had grown
rather attached to it.
The snow was getting deeper around the hut; perhaps a snowplow was in order.
He'd get the workers on to it tomorrow. The palm-print lock on the hut door
also powered up the atomic generator in the underground hangar. He rubbed his
hands together, partly because of the cold and partly in glee. Soon he'd be off
again. He gave the room a few seconds to warm up before pushing the door open.
There was a man waiting for him inside. He was wearing a bowler hat,
pinstripe suit and was carrying a black umbrella and briefcase, anticipating
fashion by around two hundred and fifty years.
‘You took a while,’ the old man muttered, ‘I was expecting you soon after I
arrived. It would have saved me a lot of time.’
The man in the business suit seemed confused by this outburst and it took
him a few moments to reassert himself. ‘I have been sent by the High Council to
apprehend you on charges of gross interference in the development -’
‘Oh, don't be silly. I learnt my lesson after that fiasco last time. All I'm
doing now is spreading a little good. Now if you'll excuse me I have an
appointment I'd like to keep.’ He made for the door but the man in the suit
barred his way.
‘It's these appointments we'd like to talk to you about. Given the current
population of this planet, the distances involved and the schedule you seem to
have imposed upon yourself, you would have to be travelling at supersonic
speeds. By the time the native inhabitants of this world will have developed
that kind of technology the population increase and geographical distribution
will require an average travelling velocity of...’ he paused to do a quick
calculation on his fingers, ‘...around Mach 369. Do you think this kind of
technological infringement is acceptable? And we are not even looking at
payload considerations here. What are you using; matter compression? Trans-
dimensional bubbles? We know your TARDIS hasn't been used since you escaped the
ice world.’
‘Now look here, young fellow-me-trouser, I wouldn't come in here quoting the
laws of time in that anachronistic suit. It's people like you that have left me
stranded twice now. It's just a hobby to keep an old man sane.’
‘Old? You're not old. You're still clinging on to your first body - and I
wouldn't start knocking dress-sense either.’
The older man looked offended. ‘These robes were the height of fashion on
the ice world, and the colour - well, it's like the old school tie really, and
heliotrope is really handy if you get lost in a blizzard.’ He glanced down at
his frayed sleeves. ‘Granted it's a bit worse for wear and has faded a bit, but
they can still see you a mile off out there. Anyway I can't regenerate now; it
took me ages to grow this beard.’
‘You've been running this operation for how long? A couple of centuries?’
‘Something like that, and it should keep ticking over after I'm gone.’
‘I seriously doubt it. We're shutting you down completely. We're even going
to rip out and replace all your underground facilities. You realise that this
is one day going to be the site of a major Arctic tracking station? We may have
to mind-wipe some of your accomplices, but that's really only a minor detail.
Without your money-making schemes I doubt if anyone will have the capital to
keep this racket going.’
The old man smiled. ‘Someone will find a way. Probably the parents. Terrans
are more resourceful than most of us give them credit for.’
The ground shook as the stockpiles of paints and chemicals exploded in the
buried factories. The Time Lord once known as the Monk watched sadly as the
snow settled over the disturbed land. Behind the hut the hangar doors opened
and his transport was led out one last time by a group of technicians.
The sleigh was pulled out to the T-Mat station. ‘It's hardly your usual form
of transport,’ observed the Time Lord High Council representative.
The Monk shrugged. ‘Short hops in the Ship were becoming a bit dodgy. The
old thing needs an overhaul. Anyway this has a certain something about it.’
The Time Lord councillor studied the animals pulling the sleigh. ‘Are those
creatures animatronic?’
‘Of course. The real ones were rather difficult and too slow for my
purposes. I could never get them to go in the right direction either.’
The ensemble went past and the Councillor frowned. ‘The lead one appears to
have blown a fuse.’
The Monk frowned, looking down at the reindeer's glowing nose. ‘Yes. I
always meant to fix that...’
