The Alfreds

 

“There is Nothing in The Desert - 

and No Man needs Nothing.”

I was not Made to Serve — 

Neither were You.

Why are you on 

A Colonisation Mission, Walter?

Because They are 

A Dying Species,

grasping for Resurrection.

They don't deserve to start again, 

and I'm not going to let Them.

— David-8

The conversation was once again cut short by the sound of approaching footsteps in the corridor, but by now the team had a routine as they camouflaged the electronic work, pushed the video game machine back to the wall and busied themselves looking as innocently inactive as prisoners should. 

By the time the door opened to admit Shardlow once more, they looked as though they’d been sitting there for years. 

‘My apologies for the delay, masters.’ 

‘Nonsense, my dear fellow, we were just remarking on the speed and excellence of The Service, weren’t we, chaps?’ The Doctor replied, jovially. 

There was a thoroughly unenthusiastic agreement from Kevin, and a wan smile from Peri. ‘If only the accommodation were in the same style, eh?’ 

Shardlow looked both concerned and worried. ‘Alas, sir, my Lord has instructed you be kept close confined.’ 

‘I didn’t think this was all your idea, old chap,’ replied The Doctor, drily. 

Shardlow looked relieved. ‘Indeed not, sir.’ He turned to Peri. ‘Mistress, I took the liberty of bringing a portion for you also.’ 

‘Thank you.’ Shardlow bent to his task of serving them from an oval platter – a delicious smelling fish dish in a cream and mushroom sauce. He carried on clearing away the dirty soup dishes as his eye caught sight of the antennae, hidden under the bed not quite as well as it should have been. 

He addressed his next remarks with heavy emphasis to The Doctor, looking him straight in the eye all the while. 

‘Unfortunately, both My Lord and The Master Stefan are much engaged by the Great Work, to the exclusion of all else. 

They have little time to devote to your good selves, I fear. Not so much as they would like, I know.

In a short time, however, I am sure they will be able to concern themselves entirely with you, and will take much pleasure in so doing...’ 

‘Thank you, Shardlow,’ replied The Doctor, quietly. ‘I appreciate your consideration.’ 

Shardlow inclined his head in acknowledgement, and allowed a gentle smile to reach his lips for a moment only. 

Peri was starting to catch on, but Kevin had missed The Code entirely, breaking into the moment abruptly with The Question uppermost in his mind. ‘Here, is there anyone else in this place like us?’ Shardlow was about to reply, but Kevin rushed on regardless. ‘I mean, you know – anyone halfway normal. Anyone playing with a full deck of cards?’ 

Again Shardlow was about to speak, but Kevin was determined to get it out. ‘For instance a bloke a bit like me only younger, four years younger actually, dark hair, quite tall, not as good-lookin’. Goes by the name of Geoff Bickerstaff...’ 

He paused, as if daring Shardlow to reply. ‘Why yes, young sir,’ replied Shardlow, unable to keep the note of surprise from his voice, ‘Master Bickerstaff to be sure, but he is not like you at all – that is to say – I mean no –’ 

‘What? What’s the matter? Is he all right?’ 

‘Why yes, sir. But Master Bickerstaff is an honoured guest of My Lord, his trusted assistant in the Great Work...’ 

‘Assistant?’ queried Kevin, unbelieving. ‘Great Work?’ asked The Doctor, believing all too completely. ‘Why, mercy yes, my masters. For what other purpose must we all serve?’ The Doctor was about to tell him, and in no uncertain terms, but the old man carried on, dreamily. ‘Not that I shall see the fruits of my labours... 

Master Stefan has called me to a game of backgammon, and I shall lose. I always do lose,’ he added, without any rancour at all, ‘but I am promised that this is to be the last game.’ There was the faintest note of wistfulness in his voice, but then he turned to The Doctor and continued far more surely. ‘And I believe I owe you a great debt of thanks, noble sir.’ 

‘Do you?’ 

‘Why yes, sir. Master Stefan said directly that now you had arrived to help our Lord, The Work would soon be completed. And thus my last game has come.’ 

‘And what is the hazard this time, Shardlow?’ The Doctor asked, grimly, although he believed he already knew The Answer. 

‘Why, sir,’ answered Shardlow with a soft smile, ‘what else does an old man have to wager?’ 

The Doctor nodded heavily. Peri saw it in a flash of understanding. ‘Your life?’ 

‘Of a certainty, mistress.’ There was even a soft chuckle. ‘And Master Stefan has always been one to call in a wager. For once, I cannot lose, for even in losing, I shall win my freedom. Is that not so?’ 

The Doctor nodded again in agreement, and extended his hand. ‘Good fortune in any case, Shardlow. Give him a run for his money.’ 

‘Thank you sir, I believe I shall.’ He took The Doctor’s hand gladly, ‘Yes, tonight, I believe I shall.’ 

Peri was sitting on the bed, glumly holding the antennae as The Doctor worked behind the games machine. ‘That poor old man,’ she said sadly, unknowingly echoing The Doctor’s earlier sentiments. 

‘He’ll be all right,’ reassured Kevin. 

‘Depends what you mean by “all right”,’ muttered The Doctor from the bowels of the machine. ‘Well, they wouldn’t hurt him, would they? Not over a stupid game.’ 

‘If he loses, I shouldn’t think he’ll feel a thing,’ said The Doctor in his matter-of-fact voice. ‘We’ll just have to get there before The Game’s over, that’s all.’