Power of….

[TARDIS]

(The Doctor has regenerated after his ordeal with the Cybermen and energy-draining Mondas. Ben and Polly watched him change into a younger person.) 


POLLY: 

His face, his hair, look at it. 


BEN: 

He's breathing, 

and the TARDIS seems to be normal. 


POLLY: 

Ben, what are we going to do? 

We can't just leave the Doctor there. 


BEN: 

What, him? The Doctor? 


POLLY: 

Well, that's who came through the doors. 

There was no one else outside. 

Ben, do you remember what he said in the tracking room? 

Something about 

'This old body of mine 

is wearing a bit thin.' 


BEN: 

So he gets himself a new one? 


POLLY: 

Well, yes. 


BEN: 

Oh, do me a favour. 


POLLY: 

Then whatever happened, 

happened in here. 


BEN: 

But it's impossible. 


POLLY: 

Not so long ago we'd have been 

saying that about a lot of things. 


(The man on the floor moans and opens his eyes. As he struggles to sit up, a searing pain nearly cripples him. Clutching his head, he stares wildly at Ben and Polly, his vision blurred. We hear the thumping of his headache, or is it heartbeat?) 


The Cosmic Hobo: 

Stop. Stop. 

Concentrate on one thing. 

One thing. 


(The man turns his attention to the Tardis console, focusing on the controls. The thumping becomes slower and softer. At last his vision clears. The man removes his hands from his face and looks around him, his features brightening in relief.) 


The Cosmic Hobo: 

It's over. (chuckles) 

It's over. 


(The man scrambles to his feet, wobbling unsteadily. Ben and Polly watch but make no attempt to help as he circles the Tardis console as if reacquainting himself with the controls. His clothes hang off his slight frame, much too big, and he struggles to unfasten the heavy cloak that threatens to trip him up. 

As he does so, an ornate ring drops to the floor.) 


BEN: 

Doctor? 


(As The TARDIS engine springs to life and dematerialises, the man raises his hands to his face once more, feeling his features as if they belonged to a stranger. Polly moves to pick up the fallen ring, eyeing the newcomer with open curiosity and a little unease. The little man makes his way over to a storage chest, his stiff-legged gait reminding Polly of a small child learning to walk. He trips, but recovers quickly.) 


The Cosmic Hobo: 

The muscles are still a bit tight. 


BEN: 

What are we going to do? 


POLLY: 

It is The Doctor. I know it is. 

I think. 


BEN: 

It's not only his face that's changed. 

He doesn't even act like him. 


(The stranger is rummaging through the contents of the chest.) 


BEN: 

Come on, it's time we sorted this out. 

Now look here! 


The Cosmic Hobo: 

Hold that. 


(He hands Ben a mirror.) 


The Cosmic Hobo: 

Tilt it. 


(The man gazes intently at his reflection. The face in the mirror has a mop of black hair and dark green eyes. Momentarily the image blurs and changes to that of an older, white-haired man before changing back again.)

(Apparently satisfied, the man turns his attention back to the storage chest.) 


BEN: 

Have you done with this? 


The Cosmic Hobo: 

Put it down. Put it down. 


BEN: 

Now what's the game? 


(The man turns, cheerfully brandishing an ornamental dagger.) 


The Cosmic Hobo: 

Ah! The Crusades, from Saladin. 

The Doctor was a great collector, wasn't he? 


POLLY: 

But you're the Doctor. 


The Cosmic Hobo: 

Oh, I don't look like him. 


BEN: 

Who are we? 


The Cosmic Hobo : 

Don't you know? 


(The man rummages further and pulls out a piece of dull silver metal. His look of mischief fades as the object triggers a very clear memory.) 


The Cosmic Hobo: 

Extermination.