There she is, just up ahead. The first target. The first victim. The first to feel my justice.
Move closer, quietly. Don't want to make my presence felt until the last possible moment. Nobody else around. Good.
Closer still. She hasn't heard me yet, so wrapped up in herself, her own little world. It's about to become, however briefly, her own private hell.
Now she hears me. She's half turning already. Quickly, close the gap. Fully turned now. Looking right at me.
Her face pales in terror. Her eyes widen, trying to take in the full horror of the moment, while at the same time, her brain refuses to process the information. Shock kills the scream building in her throat.
Then my hands are around her neck, squeezing. Her eyes bulge further and she struggles fruitlessly for breath. I feel empowered. Squeeze harder. Slowly, the light of life fades from her eyes.
I let go and the lifeless bundle slumps to the floor. The first to feel my justice. Others will follow soon enough.
***
A sound like a rusty key being scraped on a piano wire heralded the appearance of a blue box in the corridor. The sound died as the flashing light on top of the box faded.
A door in the side creaked open. Above the door are the words Police Public Call Box. A man stepped out. He was tall, with unruly curly hair temporarily trapped under a battered felt hat. His wide eyes darted about, taking in everything. He wore a long brown coat and an even longer multi-coloured scarf, which trailed on the floor behind him.
Following him out of the box was a female. She was a young adult, with long brown hair. She was wearing a primitive outfit of animal hides. She carried a knife and was always on the lookout for trouble.
"Hmm, looks like one of the old Galaxy class star liners," the man commented. He turned to the young woman. "Some of them were still in service when your ancestors set out for the stars, Leela."
"So this is a space craft, not a land craft? Not like that Sandminer?"
"No, this ship sails the oceans of space, not seas of sand and silicates. A grand tour of the wonders of the universe, all seen from the luxury of your own cabin or a viewing lounge. Do you know, I haven't been on one of these in ages?" He favoured Leela with a toothy grin.
"Could this be one of the ancestors you talked about, Doctor?" Leela asked, looking at something on the floor in the shadows behind the Police Box.
The Doctor knelt to examine the body Leela had found. "Quite dead, I'm afraid. Strangled." He stood, sighing. "Why is there always a death just before we land anywhere?" he asked nobody in particular.
As if on cue, a security guard walked round the corner. On a luxury cruise ship, guards were few and far between. The most they usually had to deal with was breaking up fights between passengers too drunk to finish them anyway. Finding a body was almost unheard of, let alone two prime suspects still on scene.
The guard fumbled for his stun gun. Meanwhile, the Doctor was already raising his hands.
"We'll come quietly, officer," he said, motioning Leela to put away her knife. She did so, but reluctantly.
"You're under arrest, stay where you are," the guard said, pointing the now liberated gun in their general direction. He fumbled with his radio. "Central, this is Collins. Emergency on deck nine. Medic required, along with back-up for detaining suspects."
A bored voice answered. "You been on the Draconian Brandy again, Collins? Suspects? Medics? Have you got a full scale riot down there?" The voice sounded as though it wouldn't believe him if he said yes.
"No," Collins said through gritted teeth. "I have a body, status unknown and two suspicious persons."
The Doctor frowned. "I resent that. I'm not suspicious. Are you suspicious, Leela?" Leela shrugged, not quite understanding. "There, you see," the Doctor continued, "we're not suspicious at all."
The voice on the other end of the radio had clearly heard all this. "Stay there, Collins, I'll be right with you."
The Doctor grinned at Leela, arms still above his head. "Did you hear that? We're going to have company."
"Quiet," growled Collins, waving his gun at them with more confidence. The Doctor pulled a face, but remained silent.
***
"Stowaways?" asked Captain Marshall Wade.
"We're not stowaways," the Doctor protested, taking a step forward. He was pushed back roughly by Collins, who waved his gun menacingly.
"I wasn't talking to you," Wade told the Doctor. He turned to his security chief. "Well?"
"There were no stowaways on board when we left port, Captain," replied Roy Wiltshire, the voice on the other end of Collins' radio earlier.
"We did find a strange box in the corridor with them, Chief," Collins reminded him. Wiltshire glared at his underling.
"That strange box as you call it is my ship," the Doctor said indignantly. "She's very compact and streamlined. I had considered putting go faster stripes on the outer plasmic shell, but they would get scoured off by the time winds."
"Do you ever stop prattling?" asked Wade. "No, don't answer that," he continued as the Doctor opened his mouth to reply. "Mister Wiltshire, lock them in the cells."
Wiltshire stood for a moment, unsure what to do. "Well, man, get on with it!" Wade ordered.
"Captain, we have no cells," Chief Wiltshire said carefully.
Wade frowned. "Well, lock them in an unused First Class cabin then. Just lock them up!"
"Yes, sir," replied Wiltshire, nodding to Collins, who ushered the prisoners out.
Wade turned to his second in command. "Ever had one of those days?"
***
Target two, unsuspecting, in the bar, alone. Watch from the shadows. It's nearly time for the bar to close. He'll be staggering back to his cabin soon.
Yes, the barman is pulling the shutter down. The next victim bangs feebly against it, hoping for just one more drink. He sighs as he realises he isn't going to get one. He turns away from the bar and staggers off down the corridor.
Follow carefully. I'll enjoy this one. He really hurt, with his snide words and wicked lies. Oh, yes, this is going to be very enjoyable.
He stumbles, so drunk he's falling over his own feet. This will be too easy.
Reach out, grab his shoulder, spin him around. He's disorientated, obviously. Looks at his attacker. Face goes white with shock.
My hands round his throat, pressing hard. The shock turns to horror, as he realises this is the end. He doesn't even have time to cry out as life leaves his body.
His body crumples to the floor. Another dead. A feeling of satisfaction flooding through mind and body. Now, for the next one!
***
Leela paced the cabin like a caged animal, which, the Doctor reflected sadly, wasn't too far from the truth. He hoped that travelling with him would be a civilising experience for the young hunter, but sometimes he wondered who was learning from whom.
He continued with his pretence of dozing, while watching everything carefully from under the brim of his hat, pulled just right over his eyes. Leela was getting more and more frustrated. Time to drop the sleeping act.
"You'll wear a track into the carpet if you keep going," he said mildly. He smiled slightly to see her flinch, not realising he was awake. It was good to be able to catch the hunter out sometimes.
"I do not like being locked up," Leela stated forcefully.
The Doctor nodded, placing his hat back on his head and sitting up. "Better get used to it. I find it something of an occupational hazard."
Leela stopped pacing and stood glaring at the door. "I do not think I will ever get used to it."
The Doctor took his yo-yo out of his pocket and started making it do complicated tricks. Leela watched him for a few moments.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Trying to relax," he replied, as a particularly difficult trick fell apart due to his lack of concentration. He glared at his companion. "Now look what you made me do!"
Leela sighed and sat cross-legged on the deck. "Something else I will never understand," she murmured, as the Doctor started again. "Time Lords!"
***
"What?" exploded Captain Wade.
Wiltshire took a deep breath and made his report again. "We've found another body, sir."
Wade shook his head. "I thought that's what you said. Where?"
"Corridor 19, sir. He had been drinking in the bar nearby until closing time. He was found about an hour after that."
Wade frowned. "Are the two prisoners still locked up?"
"First thing I checked, sir. They have not been anywhere since we put them under lock and key."
The Captain's frown deepened. "This leaves us two possibilities; we have the wrong people for the murders, or the two we have locked up have an accomplice."
"The modus operandi is the same as the first murder," Wiltshire said helpfully.
"The what? Wiltshire, please try and stick to English."
Wiltshire sighed quietly. "The way the murder was committed. I would say it was done by the same person, sir."
"Would you indeed? Then what were those two doing standing over the first body?"
"Maybe exactly what they said, sir. Discovering it."
Wade thought for a couple of minutes. "I think it's time I had another word with our overly chatty Doctor."
***
Victim three. As blissfully unaware as the rest. Walking back to her cabin after such a busy day. Makes you almost feel sorry for the poor dear. Almost.
Fumbling for her passkey. She's found it. Inserted it into the locking mechanism. Door opening. Time to strike!
Rush forward, push her through the door. Inside, out of sight of prying eyes. She's on the floor, struggling up. She turns. Allow her a glimpse of my true form before activating the device. Let her know who is bringing death to her.
Her jaw drops in recognition, then she screams as the device does its work. My hands are at her scrawny neck and she doesn't have the will to fight me. A twist and a snap and it's done.
Smile as she falls. This is getting easier. But that isn't a problem. Only a fool would enjoy a challenge. I just look forward to the next kill.
***
Leela was on her feet, poised, before the door swished open. Framed in the doorway were two men, Captain Wade and his security chief, Wiltshire. The Doctor beamed at them over his yo-yo arm.
"Please, gentlemen, come in. It's so rare we have company these days. I'm afraid we don't have much in. You should have called first, let us know you were coming."
Wade sighed as he entered the room. "I was right, you never do stop prattling, do you, Doctor?"
The Doctor shrugged, returning the yo-yo to his pocket in one fluid motion. "It's a hobby."
"How many of you are there on this ship?" Wiltshire asked.
The Doctor frowned. "Just the one, I think. Why, how many of me have you seen?"
"He means is it just you and the girl?" Wade clarified.
"The girl has a name," Leela chipped in sulkily.
"It's just us two," the Doctor grinned. "Why do you ask?"
"There's been another murder," Wiltshire said automatically. Wade glared at him.
"I see. And we can't have done it, because we were locked up. You were wondering if we had an accomplice, which we don't. Now, would you like to release us? Then, if you ask very nicely, I'll try and help you."
Wade looked like he was going to explode, so Wiltshire stepped in quickly.
"Well, technically Doctor we have no evidence to hold you, so you are free to go. The ships internal monitoring system will be keeping constant watch on you, however. And we have placed your box under lock and key."
"You're holding my TARDIS?" The Doctor looked horrified.
"It's a security measure," Wade responded, looking calmer than he felt.
"Very well, I'll help you," the Doctor declared.
"That's so noble of you, Doctor," Wade replied. "I'll leave you with Wiltshire, he can fill you in."
***
"So, Mister Wiltshire, tell me about the victims," the Doctor said as they strode through the corridors of the ship. The Doctor had his hands thrust into his trouser pockets and had his head down, as if searching the deck as he walked. Leela trailed behind them, feeling uncomfortable without her knife, which had not been returned on their release.
"Well," said Wiltshire, "the first victim, the one you found, was Enorma Steng, a well known art critic, as was the second, Thomasson Dome. They were part of a company of artists and critics who are travelling to Stenton Prime and also holding an exhibition on board."
The Doctor frowned. "Do you think you might have a motive there, Mister Wiltshire?"
"I had considered it, but have not had time to act yet."
"Then let's act now!" the Doctor exclaimed, striding off up the corridor, trailing Wiltshire in his wake.
Leela was about to follow when something caught her attention in a side corridor. She was about to call after the Time Lord, but he was disappearing around the bend in the corridor ahead. Frowning, she decided to investigate alone.
The side passage was darker than the main one. The faint illumination caught on the object she had seen before. She knelt beside it. It was a small silver disc on a silver chain. She examined it closely. On one side was a stylised artists brush, while on the reverse were the initials S.F.
She stood, slipping the neck chain into a pouch at her belt. At the end of the passage was a bar, which was just opening for the days trading. She retraced her steps, intent on catching up with the Doctor. She failed to notice a figure watching her from the darkness.
***
The Doctor stood amidst an array of sculptures, paintings and piles of junk passing as art. He did not look impressed.
"This is the exhibition, I take it," he said, glancing around, looking for something that might appeal to anybody with a modicum of taste.
Wiltshire nodded. "Miss French said she would meet us here. She's late."
A crackle came from Wiltshire's radio. He answered, listened to it carefully and put it back with a frown.
"Another one?" the Doctor inquired mildly, arching an eyebrow.
"Yes, Marsha Winter. Found strangled in her cabin a few minutes ago. That's three now."
"Greetings, gentlemen," said a high-pitched female voice. "Now, I have a very busy schedule, so can we get on?"
"You must be Miss French!" the Doctor enthused, shaking her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Would have been better under more pleasant circumstances."
"Would it?" asked the short woman, gazing up at him through thick spectacles.
"Well, of course it would," the Doctor said sadly. "Three people have died."
Miss French polished her spectacles. "I suppose so. Now, what was it you wanted?"
"As the organiser of this event, can you think of anybody who would wish to harm those involved?" asked Wiltshire.
Miss French thought for a moment. "No. Now, is that all? I'm very busy."
"Yes, Miss French," the Doctor said. "That will be all." She turned on her heel and strode quickly out of the exhibition hall.
The Doctor grinned at Wiltshire. "I think that went well, don't you?"
***
Leela had spent a long time searching for the Doctor without result. Then she had asked a passing steward, who had directed her towards a large room. As she entered, a small woman pushed past her rudely. Leela was about to comment, but the woman was already almost out of sight.
"Ah, Leela, there you are," the Doctor said. "I do wish you wouldn't wander off like that. Now, Mister Wiltshire here was just going to look at the latest body. I want you to go with him."
"But Doctor..." began Leela, wanting to tell him of her find.
The Doctor held up his hands. "No buts. I want you two together. Less risk that way. I'm off to check the ships computer banks. You do have an onboard library, don't you?" he asked Wiltshire.
"Well, yes. Deck five. You can't miss it."
The Doctor patted him on the arm. "Good man. Now, take good care of him, Leela. I won't be long."
"But Doctor..." she said again, but it was already too late. His scarf had disappeared out of the door, trailing behind him like a faithful puppy.
Leela looked at Wiltshire. He looked back.
"The Doctor has decided we should look at this body. Then we should look. Lead the way."
Wiltshire sighed. "Yes, Ma'am," he said sarcastically, heading for the cabin of the late Marsha Winter.
***
The Doctor sat in a corner of the library, studying the data screen intently. He was fascinated by the information scrolling before him. He didn't notice a shadowy figure watching him. After a while, the figure turned and slipped silently out of the library.
Some time later, the Doctor stood, closed down the screen and strode quickly from the library. He had news for Wiltshire and Leela, so didn't notice that he was being followed.
***
"This really isn't good enough," said the red-faced man, jabbing his finger into the face of Wiltshire, who was starting to get really annoyed.
"We're doing all we can," he assured the man through gritted teeth as he and Leela stood outside the cabin of the deceased Marsha Winter.
"I'm Montgomery Fine and my works have been exhibited on all the nine worlds. I demand you give us full protection until this killer is caught!"
"Now, Mister Fine, if you'll let me get on, we can catch the killer quicker."
"I am far too important to be fobbed off like this," Fine spluttered.
Leela, who had been quiet up until now, leaned forward and grasped Fine by the lapels of his expensive looking jacket. She growled into his face. "If you don't cease your prattling, I will cut out your tongue and feed it back to you."
Fine went white, turned on his heel and quickly walked away. He paused at the corner of the corridor. "You've not heard the last of this," he called back.
Wiltshire sighed. "I hope the Doctor has found something," he said. "Because Fine's right. If he hasn't, I'm very much afraid we'll have another victim soon."
***
The Doctor walked, head down and scarf trailing, through the corridors of the ship. Further back, a patch of darkness detached from the surrounding shadows and tried to keep pace with his long strides.
The Time Lord stopped suddenly and turned. The pursuer froze. But the Doctor didn't seem to notice anything amiss and resumed his progress. The dark figure hung back, still keeping the Gallifreyan dynamo in sight.
Wiltshire was just finishing his observation to Leela about another victim when the Doctor strode up to them. He grinned at them.
"Are you having fun?"
"No," Wiltshire replied. He told the Doctor about Fine and his demands for protection.
The Doctor rubbed his chin. "Seems like you might have an artists revolt on your hands," he commented.
Wiltshire scowled. "Would it do any harm if we did? What are they going to do, go on strike? Some would say it would be a blessing if they did."
The Doctor's grin widened. "Now, Mister Wiltshire, that's not very nice, is it?"
Leela listened to their banter for a while in silence. This wasn't getting them anywhere. The Doctor had ignored her when she had tried to tell him of her find earlier. Well, she would show him. She would find more of this evidence he seemed to need.
Quietly, though she was sure they wouldn't notice, she slipped away from the Doctor and Wiltshire. It was time she investigated more on her own.
In the shadows, eyes watched her. A mouth smiled. Time to distract this meddlesome Doctor.
***
"I was only saying to Leela the other day, wasn't I Leela?" the Doctor announced. He paused to let his companion answer, but there was silence. He turned to find her gone.
"Did you see where Leela went?" he asked Wiltshire.
"She was here a moment ago. At least I think she was. Until you started telling your tale, then my eyes sort of glazed over."
"Did they really? You should see a Doctor about that. Now, we should find Leela. She gets into awful trouble when I'm not around, you know."
They set off down the corridor, away from the path Leela had taken.
***
Victim number four. Not the planned one, but a victim none the less. Stronger than the others, by the look of it. They were weak and flabby, easy prey. This one would be more of a challenge. But the device should weaken her defences.
Back to the side corridor near the bar, where Dome had met his maker. Revisiting the scene of the crime. If you could call it a crime. Dome and the others got what they deserved. They had it coming.
She's bending down, looking to see if there is anything else to find. Perfect. Closer. This one has a hunters instinct, but she is concentrating on her task. Use that to advantage. Closer still.
Close enough. She senses my presence. Switch on the device. She stands but I'm close now. Reach out, grasp the neck and squeeze. Squeeze hard!
***
The attacker was upon Leela almost before she realised. How could she have been so lax? She gazed in horror at the figure that was squeezing the air out of her lungs, momentarily frozen before even considering fighting back.
But she not only considered it, she did fight back. She grasped the gloved hands at her throat and slowly, desperately slowly, prised the fingers from her neck. Knowing she needed to distract her enemy, she thrust her head forward, butting the enemy right between the eyes.
The tactic worked. Her adversary fell back, hands to face. Leela kicked out, catching a knee with her booted foot. She heard a satisfying crunch of bone giving way.
Suddenly the enemy lashed out, sending Leela spinning against the wall. When she recovered her senses, she was alone in the side passage.
Nursing her bruises, she moved towards the main corridor, just in time to hear the Doctor calling her name. She forced her bruised throat to make a loud enough response.
He was with her quickly, Wiltshire in tow. They both looked concerned at her condition.
"What happened?" the Doctor asked, checking her carefully for broken bones.
Leela grimaced as he touched a tender spot. "I was attacked," she said simply. "By a Tesh."
Wiltshire looked puzzled. "What's a Tesh?" he wanted to know.
"A rival tribe from Leela's homeworld," the Doctor explained. "Having one aboard would be a temporal impossibility."
"I do not lie!" Leela stated firmly. "It was a Tesh!"
The Doctor grinned at her. "I'm not disputing what you saw. Just the way your mind interpreted it."
Now it was Leela's turn to look puzzled. "I know I don't often understand what you say, Doctor, but that did not make sense."
"It will," he promised. "Now, Mister Wiltshire, could you round up all the artists for me, somewhere central. And the formidable Miss French too. And you might want to have a couple of security guards standing by, along with Captain Wade."
"What will you be doing?" asked Wiltshire.
"Collecting evidence," the Doctor told him, flashing that trademark grin again.
***
The Doctor and Leela watched from a side passage. Shortly, the owner of the cabin left, limping away for the meeting the Doctor had asked Wiltshire to arrange.
"That was my attacker?" Leela asked, shocked.
The Doctor beamed at her. "All done with mirrors, my dear Watson! Now, come on."
As they broke into the cabin, Leela muttered, "Watson?"
***
Wiltshire wasn't enjoying baby-sitting a dozen temperamental artists, along with their annoying organiser, Sylvia French. He was a little surprised to see her left leg strapped, but didn't dare comment.
He was relieved when the Doctor and Leela appeared, trailed by Captain Wade.
"Hello, I'm the Doctor and this is my friend Leela. I'm sure you all know Captain Wade and Mister Wiltshire, the head of security."
"Why are we here?" demanded a red-faced man, wiping sweat from his forehead with an already soaked handkerchief. "We are sitting ducks for the killer roaming this ship!"
The Doctor's face fell. "Are we? Well, don't worry, the killer isn't roaming the ship anymore."
"You mean you've caught him?" the man asked hopefully.
"Not yet," the Doctor admitted. "You see, the killer is one of you in this room!"
The following murmur built quickly into a roar of accusation and counter-accusation, as the highly-strung personalities in the room tried, without success, to deduce who was guilty. Captain Wade managed, with an effort, to restore order. He turned then to the Doctor.
"Can you back up your claim, Doctor?"
"Oh yes. And I can tell you now who the killer is. Samantha Finch."
Everybody looked blank. A few looked at the fellows, hoping for clarification, but none was forthcoming. Wade was consulting a hand held data pad. He glanced up at the Doctor.
"There is no Samantha Finch listed on the passenger manifest."
The Doctor dropped his next bombshell. "That's because she died over ten years ago."
When the pandemonium of that statement had died down, he had their full attention.
"Let me tell you a story. Once, there was a struggling artist called Samantha Finch. She had talent, but it went unrecognised by most people. Then a generous benefactor took her under his wing and sponsored an exhibition for her. The critics tore her apart. They criticised everything she had ever produced, in the most vicious of terms. Unable to take it, Samantha Finch left a suicide note with a pile of clothes on a river bridge. Her body was never found."
"What has this to do with anything?" asked Sylvia French, clearly upset by the story.
"It has everything to do with what is happening here," the Doctor told her. "Because Samantha Finch didn't die. She changed her name. Laid low until her previous life had passed into obscurity. Then she emerged with a new identity and a new career. She plotted a deadly revenge against those who she believed had killed Samantha. Because she now saw Samantha as a separate person, who had indeed died. She went after her killers. But she wasn't a strong woman, so she needed an edge. This." He held up a small, black box.
"What is that?" asked Wiltshire.
The Doctor smiled sadly. "I can demonstrate easier than tell you." He flicked a switch on the side of the box.
Everybody in the room gasped as the Doctor disappeared, to be replaced by...well, their own worst nightmares, made flesh.
The Doctor turned the switch off. "A simple hypnotic induction device, designed to project an image of what the viewer fears most. I realised this was how she paralysed her victims with fear when Leela was attacked. She said she had seen a Tesh, a member of a rival tribe. But Leela's ancestors won't be born for a century yet, so Tesh cannot exist in this time. What the other three saw I have no idea, but it must have terrified them."
"It did," said Sylvia French quietly. Almost too quietly to be heard. "How did you know?" she asked the Doctor.
"I did some checking on the systems data web, via the ships library. Sylvia French didn't appear on the records until a few months after Samantha Finch died. Plus you left a necklace with your initials on near the site of the second murder. Leela found that. How's the leg, by the way?"
"Painful." Sylvia French smiled slightly. "I knew I should have killed you after you left the library, Doctor," she said coldly.
"Well, we all make mistakes," the Doctor told her mildly as Wiltshire's guards took her away.
Epilogue
Wiltshire and Wade accompanied the Doctor and Leela to the cargo hold where the TARDIS was secured.
"Have you heard back from the authorities about Miss French?" the Doctor asked as he fished the key from his pocket.
"Just a few minutes ago," Wade replied. "They have taken your thoughts about her mental condition on board. She will serve out her sentence in a secure hospital, where her condition will be treated."
The Doctor nodded sadly. "I'm glad. She was almost as much a victim as those she killed. A tragic case."
"You saved lives, Doctor," Wade told him. "Mister Wiltshire found a list of other potential victims in her quarters."
"It could all have been prevented," the Doctor said. "If only those critics had been more kind in their views. They turned an ordinary young artist into a dangerous and vicious enemy."
Wiltshire shook the Doctor by the hand. "You may be unorthodox, but you got to the truth. It was an experience working with you."
The Doctor returned the handshake. "It was an experience for me too, Mister Wiltshire. Goodbye, Captain." He shook his hand too.
"Thank you, Doctor. You probably saved my reputation."
The Doctor looked grim. "I'd rather have saved Samantha Finch's soul. Come along, Leela."
She raised her hand in farewell and followed the Doctor into the TARDIS. It dematerialised noisily.
"Do you think we'll see him again?" Wiltshire asked Wade.
Wade shook his head. "I really hope not!" he said with feeling.
