them.’
‘Don’t interfere!’ The Doctor silenced her angrily. ‘I cannot will my own destruction.’
‘So be it,’ said Mawdryn wearily. ‘Leave now with the rest of your companions. But accept the consequences of your own actions.’
The other mutants began to murmur in protest. ‘Go quickly,’ urged Mawdryn.
‘That sounds like good advice.’ The Brigadier grabbed the Doctor by the arm and propelled him towards the door.
‘We have experimented for centuries,’ clamoured the mutant lying next to Mawdryn.
‘We have tried to discover a remedy,’ cried his companion.
‘There is no remission,’ moaned another in despair.
‘Only the power in you, Time Lord!’
‘Only you can help us, Doctor. Share the life-force with us, that we may grow old and die!’
The Doctor stood watching them like a sailor who has seen his shipmate fall overboard, and knows that, while the boat sails on, the castaway must surely die.
‘Come on, Doctor,’ urged Tegan. ‘There’s nothing that any of us can do.’
The Doctor turned reluctantly to go. Filled with dismay, the mutants struggled to free themselves from the regenerator.
‘To the TARDIS, the lot of you!’ roared the Brigadier and shepherded the Doctor, Tegan and Nyssa out into the corridor.
The mutants howled like abandoned children and would have rushed into the passageway to drag the Doctor back into the laboratory had they been strong enough.
‘My friends, do not despair,’ Mawdryn comforted his fellow exiles. ‘The Doctor will return, and of his own free will.’ He detached himself from the machine and stood, tall and strong, as any normal creature. Only the ulcerous sarcoma on the right of his face branded him as unnatural.
‘There is work to be done,’ he announced gravely. His seven comrades looked at him, hardly daring to hope.
Then he spoke the words they had waited over two thousand years to hear. ‘Prepare our ship for the ending!’
As they rushed along the sombre corridors towards the TARDIS, Tegan noticed how out of breath the Brigadier was getting. The poor man had certainly gone to pieces in those six years since she was at Brendon School – put on weight too, she observed, as he paused to get his breath back. ‘I’m Tegan by the way,’ she said, introducing herself with a friendly smile. ‘We have met, but it was rather a long time ago.’
‘Miss Jovanka, could I ever forget,’ puffed the breathless Sir Galahad of Jubilee Day.
‘Doctor, what are we going to do about Turlough?’
asked Nyssa.
‘Turlough will have found the TARDIS by now.’
‘And the other Brigadier?’
‘I can only deal with one Brigadier at a time!’ snapped the Doctor, desperate to reach the police box and get clear of the alien ship.
‘What’s that?’ Lethbridge-Stewart pricked up his ears.
The Doctor explained to the horrified old soldier the presence of his six years’ junior on board Mawdryn’s ship.
The senior Brigadier was none too happy about the way the Doctor proposed to leave part of him adrift in space.
‘You were perfectly all right in 1983,’ the Doctor explained impatiently. ‘Obviously your 1977 persona came to no harm.’
The Brigadier, who by now didn’t know whether he was coming or going, entered the TARDIS with the two girls, still grumbling about spending six years in limbo.
‘No sign of Turlough,’ said Tegan, looking round the control room.
‘Never trusted that boy,’ muttered the Brigadier testily.
‘Maybe he’s exploring the TARDIS?’
‘I hope so,’ said the Doctor, already setting a course out of the warp ellipse, ‘because we’ve got to get the TARDIS
away from here.’
‘Look!’ Nyssa pointed to the scanner.
Running down the corridor, terrified that the TARDIS
was leaving without him, was Turlough.
Turlough had felt rather pleased with himself at trapping the younger Brigadier so neatly inside the dormition chamber. That would settle a few scores with the cantankerous old
‘Don’t interfere!’ The Doctor silenced her angrily. ‘I cannot will my own destruction.’
‘So be it,’ said Mawdryn wearily. ‘Leave now with the rest of your companions. But accept the consequences of your own actions.’
The other mutants began to murmur in protest. ‘Go quickly,’ urged Mawdryn.
‘That sounds like good advice.’ The Brigadier grabbed the Doctor by the arm and propelled him towards the door.
‘We have experimented for centuries,’ clamoured the mutant lying next to Mawdryn.
‘We have tried to discover a remedy,’ cried his companion.
‘There is no remission,’ moaned another in despair.
‘Only the power in you, Time Lord!’
‘Only you can help us, Doctor. Share the life-force with us, that we may grow old and die!’
The Doctor stood watching them like a sailor who has seen his shipmate fall overboard, and knows that, while the boat sails on, the castaway must surely die.
‘Come on, Doctor,’ urged Tegan. ‘There’s nothing that any of us can do.’
The Doctor turned reluctantly to go. Filled with dismay, the mutants struggled to free themselves from the regenerator.
‘To the TARDIS, the lot of you!’ roared the Brigadier and shepherded the Doctor, Tegan and Nyssa out into the corridor.
The mutants howled like abandoned children and would have rushed into the passageway to drag the Doctor back into the laboratory had they been strong enough.
‘My friends, do not despair,’ Mawdryn comforted his fellow exiles. ‘The Doctor will return, and of his own free will.’ He detached himself from the machine and stood, tall and strong, as any normal creature. Only the ulcerous sarcoma on the right of his face branded him as unnatural.
‘There is work to be done,’ he announced gravely. His seven comrades looked at him, hardly daring to hope.
Then he spoke the words they had waited over two thousand years to hear. ‘Prepare our ship for the ending!’
As they rushed along the sombre corridors towards the TARDIS, Tegan noticed how out of breath the Brigadier was getting. The poor man had certainly gone to pieces in those six years since she was at Brendon School – put on weight too, she observed, as he paused to get his breath back. ‘I’m Tegan by the way,’ she said, introducing herself with a friendly smile. ‘We have met, but it was rather a long time ago.’
‘Miss Jovanka, could I ever forget,’ puffed the breathless Sir Galahad of Jubilee Day.
‘Doctor, what are we going to do about Turlough?’
asked Nyssa.
‘Turlough will have found the TARDIS by now.’
‘And the other Brigadier?’
‘I can only deal with one Brigadier at a time!’ snapped the Doctor, desperate to reach the police box and get clear of the alien ship.
‘What’s that?’ Lethbridge-Stewart pricked up his ears.
The Doctor explained to the horrified old soldier the presence of his six years’ junior on board Mawdryn’s ship.
The senior Brigadier was none too happy about the way the Doctor proposed to leave part of him adrift in space.
‘You were perfectly all right in 1983,’ the Doctor explained impatiently. ‘Obviously your 1977 persona came to no harm.’
The Brigadier, who by now didn’t know whether he was coming or going, entered the TARDIS with the two girls, still grumbling about spending six years in limbo.
‘No sign of Turlough,’ said Tegan, looking round the control room.
‘Never trusted that boy,’ muttered the Brigadier testily.
‘Maybe he’s exploring the TARDIS?’
‘I hope so,’ said the Doctor, already setting a course out of the warp ellipse, ‘because we’ve got to get the TARDIS
away from here.’
‘Look!’ Nyssa pointed to the scanner.
Running down the corridor, terrified that the TARDIS
was leaving without him, was Turlough.
Turlough had felt rather pleased with himself at trapping the younger Brigadier so neatly inside the dormition chamber. That would settle a few scores with the cantankerous old
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