CHAPTER 7: Stuffed and Mounted?
The Doctor looked at the Dalek with repugnance. “What are you staring at? Fat lot of good you are.” He muttered, as he flopped down on the sofa and decided to take a nap. He may be on display, but he wasn’t about to show off for a bunch of Snoddish tourists. A young girl in a pink toga came up to the glass and tapped on it. The Doctor turned and smiled at her, only to have a flash go off in his face. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his sunglasses and put them on. "No autographs, thanks." The Doctor muttered. Yawning, he stretched out on the sofa, hands behind his head. In seconds, he was snoring.
Later that evening, in the dim light from under the door, the Doctor stood looking at the ceiling of his cage. “Hmm--? Particle beams in the ceiling, triggered by pressure on the glass? Sounds pretty straightforward.” He paced back and forth, deep in thought. So lost in thought was he, that he nearly fell over the armchair. Stopping abruptly, he beamed with satisfaction. The Doctor had an idea.
Looking at the ceiling again, then at the chair, he said, “It just might work--and if it doesn’t…well, at least I won’t have to put up with Bob’s boring little chit-chat any longer--or those awful chips. Uck!” He looked at the Dalek. “I’m telling you, if they offer you any chips, take a pass. They’re worse then the ones from that American fast food chain. Tasteless rubbish.” The Dalek's eye swiveled towards the Doctor, but it remained silent. The Doctor moved the chair into the position needed, then pulled his sonic screwdriver from his pocket, making an adjustment. “There, that oughta’ do the trick," he mumbled absently.
The Doctor moved to the back of the cage. He held up the sonic screwdriver and kept it pointed at the holes in the ceiling from which the particle beams emitted. He tensed himself, then sprang up and pushed the chair with all his might against the glass. Immediately, narrow beams of light shot out from the ceiling, which were then deflected into themselves, by the screwdriver. With a brief shower of sparks, the particle beams short-circuited. The Doctor re-adjusted the setting and pointed the screwdriver at the glass. The glass slowly formed minute cracks all though it. Grinning, the doctor touched a key spot delicately with his little finger. He puffed out his cheeks and blew on the glass. It shattered completely, and he quickly stepped out into the main exhibit hall.
He stood still for a moment, getting his bearings--there was the main door--but chances were that it would be heavily guarded. There must be some other way out. He turned to look down the dark recesses of the other end of the exhibit hall--only to find himself face-to-face with five very serious looking guards with blasters, who had apparently been hiding nearby. He gave them a disapproving look. "Didn't your mothers ever tell you that it's not polite to point?" One of the guards shouted, "Hands up, you!" The Doctors arms shot up in the air. He sniffed and wrinkled his nose. "Sorry, but my seven day deodorant seems to have run out." The head guard merely frowned. The Doctor sighed. "Ah, well. Some people just have no sense of humor."
The Collector strode through the door, clapping his hands. “Oh good. Splendid. Very, very good. You know, I had a bet with my collegues that you would try to escape tonight. I won a treble pile of credits because of you. Very nicely done, Doctor.” The Doctor smiled, though inside he was wondering where this was all going to lead. “Thanks, I try. Now what, ey? You want me to do handstands, sing some more? Juggle a ball on my nose?” The Collector sighed. “No Doctor. You’ve just ruined a ten thousand credit display case. There’s only one thing left I can do.” The Doctor wasn’t sure he liked the sound of this. “What’s that?” The Collector smiled. “Why, stuff and mount you of course.”
The Doctor was a bit incredulous. “Stuff and mount me? What, you mean like a moose? Like some blinking bear?” The Collector heaved a big sigh. “I know. It’s a shame. You’re worth so much more as a live specimen, but, sorry to say, you’re just too expensive to keep around. That was the strongest glass made, and you shattered it like it was terracotta. No, no, no. Mustn’t have that. Oh, you'll not be the attraction you are, as a live display, but still..." The Doctor looked at The Collector thoughtfully, then struck several poses, imitating a stuffed wild animal. He stopped and frowned..."Nope--still don't see it. I 'd just look totally ridiculous...mind you, with my back hair, I might make a halfway decent rug."
The collector shook his head. "I understand your antics are just your way of stalling for time--but I'm afraid your time has run out, Time Lord. You’ll just have to go.” He gave a curt nod at the guards and they aimed their guns at the Doctor.
The Doctor's hand shot out, and the tip of the sonic screwdriver glowed blue, as it emitted a high-pitched hum. The glass in the large snake's cage shattered. While his captors froze with horror, the Doctor spun round again, and the glass on the Dalek's box, shattered as well. One of the guards stared at the Dalek and screamed in terror. He fled--straight into the path of the snake, which promptly ate him. The four remaining guards huddled together and aimed their weapons at the snake, disintegrating it. Glancing back, the Doctor winced with regret at the creature's destruction, as he made for the door. Meanwhile the Dalek, chanting "Exterminate!" made a beeline for The Collector--who promptly hid behind his guards. From the pouch hanging from his toga, he produced a box and pressed a button. A force-field suddenly encased the Dalek. Nearly insane with a mixture of fear and fury, The Collector screamed, "Kill the Doctor!" He demanded, "Kill him now! A half-million credits to the first man to fry him!" The Doctor was still only halfway to the door--there was no place to run to.
Suddenly, the door exploded inward, and a crack squad of the Royal Snod’s Guards came pouring in. A man dressed in a dark green plaid tunic and fancy breast plate with feathered helmet came striding in. He looked around the room with disgust. The Collector’s violet face turned pale. “Senator-General Redel!” He gasped. The general faced him. “We in the Royal Senate have been wondering what you’ve been hiding down here in the basement of the capital--our very capital!” He looked around again. “It’s an outrage!” The Collector started to speak. The Senator-General cut him off. “No. Don’t speak to me. Not now. Not ever. You are to be placed in maximum security until such a time as we can sort this thing out. But don’t go expecting any mercy from me, brother. You are a disgrace not only to all of Snod-land, but to the honurable name of our family.” He turned his back on the Collector in disgust. “Take him away.”
Later, the Doctor was sitting with the Senator-General at a small outdoor café, sipping drinks and discussing what to do with the creatures that had been imprisoned. It was decided to return the safer creatures to their homeworld’s, if possible. if not, then the Royal Senate would do it’s best to find comfortable and safe accommodations for the creatures. The dangerous one’s, like the Dalek, that was another matter altogether, and not an easy course to set upon. The Doctor made some suggestions and decided to leave it the matter in the capable hands of the general.
The Doctor sipped his Cedarate brandy. “There’s one thing that puzzles me, Senator-General. How did you know I was down there?” The General reached into the pouch attached to his tunic and pulled out a photo. It was the one of the Doctor that the little girl had taken. The General smiled. “My niece took this photo of you, showed it to my daughter. She recognized you and sent me an urgent message.” The Doctor was puzzled. He was sure that he didn’t know anyone personally on this planet. The General stood up suddenly. “Ah, here she is now. You were by her shop today. She told me she has something she’d like to give you. Personally.” The Doctor suddenly got the impression of a neon orange toga. “Oh…Oh…I see. Well,” he said nervously, “Well...” He fidgeted with his tie. “Well…now, she’s your daughter is she?” The general added proudly. Oh yes. That shop’s been in our family for generations. We are big on tradition here on Snod, you know. Hello, dear.” The Doctor turned. It was the large woman in the teal and indigo toga who had sold him Martha’s box. She held out the gift wrapped box to him. “I’m so glad you’re alright Doctor.” He smiled broadly and heaved a big sigh. “So am I, so am I.”
