The Perspex Prison

Origianlly written late summer of 2006, and published under the title of The Menagerie. NBG.

 

THE PERSPEX PRISON

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 1: A Gift for a Friend

It was a narrow brick-walled alley, just like a million other alleys in a billion other cities in the universe. Bits of paper lay scattered about, with odd pieces of discarded rubbish here and there and faded graffiti on the two opposing walls. It was just a quiet deserted space that seldom saw the light of the sun, sandwiched between two small shops on a quaint city street. Essentially, it was nothing special. It wasn’t even used much, anymore.

Out of nowhere, the wind kicked up the papers and sent them twirling, transforming them into miniature tornados. A wheezing and groaning noise rent the air, and a blue police box materialized, fitting nicely between the two walls. The door opened and a man in a blue suit and maroon tie stood gazing about him. Overhead, twin suns shone distantly in a powder blue sky. On the street, humanoid beings with violet skin and sapphire blue hair, dressed in a variety of coloured togas, were bustling about on their daily business.

The Doctor’s new friend, Martha, had gone off to visit a sick friend in Kent and the Doctor decided to take himself on a little holiday to the New New Club Med on the planet Sdnanem–which the locals called “Snod” for short. After spending the early part of the day on the beach, he’d decided to visit the small but charming city of Ynabla. Slipping on a pair of sunglasses, the Doctor stuck his hands in his pockets and strolled along with the crowd, larking about and gazing in each of the shop windows.

In one window was a golden mechanical animal the size of a small dog, which looked like a cross between a giraffe and a drashig. In another, a live model showed off a neon orange toga and a pair of purple platform shoes. She gave the Doctor a beguiling smile.

Slipping his glasses up on his forehead, the Doctor grinned. She blew him a kiss. The doctor said, “Hello!” And waved at her shyly. The model began removing her toga–the Doctor slid his sunglasses back on and bolted across the street.

He strolled past what appeared to be a pet shop. There was a man in the window, brushing a long-haired animal that seemed to be some sort of cat. The man looked up at the Doctor and gave a start. The Doctor merely frowned at the cat-creature, waved casually at the man, and strolled on. The next window boasted a 3-D game. It seemed to be a cross between chess and an old fashioned sword fight.

The Doctor wanted to surprise Martha with a little gift, when she got back, but was unsure of what his new human companion would like. Occupied by this thought, the Doctor didn’t notice the man from the pet shop following him.

Just then, he spied a little shop around the corner that looked interesting. The store windows were small round panes of glass, and each pane held a different trinket. The gifts ranged from a comic statue of a fat man on a toilet, to spun glass swan-like creatures, to miniature dragons that moved their wings and roared, to souvenir beverage beakers.

What caught the Doctor’s eye though, was an elaborately enameled box. It could almost have come out of Earth’s Tsarist Russia, but for the holographic ballerina on the lid. Opening the door, he entered the shop. The man who’d been shadowing the Doctor, a thin male in a somewhat soiled gold toga, reached into the pouch cinched to his waist and pulled out a communication device.

 

 

Chapter 2: Shop ‘Til You Drop

The musical chime on the door sounded as the Doctor entered the shop. A hefty female in a crisp, flowing indigo and teal toga approached him, smiling pleasantly. She was of average height, and had an air of grace and dignity about her. “Good afternoon sir. How may I assist you today?”

The Doctor returned her smile warily, remembering the model in the window. “Ummm–Forgive the odd question, but you’re not going remove any bits of clothing, are you?”

The woman laughed lightly. “Heavens no, sir, this is a gift shop. Toga stores are the only place where a sales clerk may remove one’s garments.”

 The doctor beamed at her. “Well, that’s always good to know, then. Tell me, do have any more of those nice little enameled boxes that I saw in your window?”

“Why yes,” she replied, and gesturing to the Doctor to follow, lead the way to a rear display counter, “would you care to follow me, please?”

The doctor strolled past shelves lined with “I love Snod” key chains, something that looked suspiciously like fake vomit, stuffed creatures of unknown origin. racks of holocards showing scenes of the city, hundred tone wind chimes and children’s garments printed with the logo, ‘My parents went to Snod and all I got was this lousy tunic.’

The saleswoman walked behind the counter. She removed two boxes from the display and placed them on top of the counter. “These are just exquisite, are they not? They’re my favourite item in the entire shop.”

The Doctor stepped back and looked them over. Each were richly enameled: one in shades of gold, crimson and orange, with a minute hologram of an insect resembling a butterfly on the lid, whose wings lazily opened and closed. The other box was emerald green, gold and midnight blue, with a rearing creature that resembled Pegasus. “These are the last two we have, other than the one in the window.” She said.

The Doctor picked up the one with the insect and carefully looked it over. “This one, I think. Can you wrap it up for me?”

The sales clerk nodded her approval. “An excellent choice, sir. Will that be cash or credit?”

Rumaging around in his cadaverous pockets, the Doctor handed her a credit disc, hoping it was for the correct planet. “Is this alright?”

The woman in the toga took the disc from him. “This is fine, sir. I will just pop in the back and wrap this up for you. It won’t take but a moment.” She bustled away through a beaded doorway in the rear of the shop.

The Doctor watched her go, not noticing the tall dark young man, inching his way behind him. The man wore a nondescript grey toga and had long lanky hair. He reached into the pouch behind his waist and pulled out a hypo-needle.

Sensing the movement, the Doctor turned, smiling. The man jabbed the doctor in the leg with the hypo. The Doctor was quite indignant. “Oww-! That hurt!” Realizing that something was amiss, he added, “Hang on, what’d you do that for?” He said all this, and then passed out cold into the man’s arms.

Moments later the salesgirl returned with the Doctor’s package, saying, “Here you are, sir. Thank you for your custom…” She stared about her in total surprise. Her nice gentleman customer had vanished.

 

Chapter 4: Boxed In

The Doctor awoke in near total darkness. The only light seemed to come from the bottom of a door far down a long hallway. Slowly a hand fumbled for his chest. Felt over one heart, then the other. “Well…both beating,” he muttered, “so I guess I’m not dead.” He felt his pockets for his sonic screwdriver, but his pockets were empty–in fact, he didn’t have pockets.

A tactile inspection of his clothing confirmed that he seemed to be wearing something very much like a set of pyjamas. “Oh not again!” He moaned. He made a double check of his new wardrobe “What? Not even a Satsuma? How disappointing. Well…at least I’m not naked. Not like that time on Metabelis Three. Then again…I should have known better than to go to a cocktail party with triplets from Quixotica. ”

Slowly sitting up, the Doctor’s head swam a little.  Pausing, he licked the roof of his mouth. It tasted strangely like a cross between a very sour pickle and a licorice All-Sorts. The Doctor made a face. “Ah, yes. I recognize that unpleasant aftertaste. Only one thing in the universe can leave a taste like that in one’s mouth. Albermein.” He frowned deeply. “But that was banned. Years ago. What’s someone on Snod–mind you, I’m assuming I’m still on the same planet–what’s someone here doing with a banned tranquilizer?”

Just then, the door at the end of the hall opened. The lights clicked on and the hall was flooded with blazing white light. Raising his hands to his eyes the Doctor backed up against the wall. He saw that he was in what basically was a large box. It was tall enough for him to stand and walk around a bit–in fact, even came furnished like a miniature apartment–except that three of the walls were totally transparent. He looked down the hall, trying to make out the figure walking towards him. That’s when he heard something move in the compartment on the other side of him. He turned and looked.

The Doctor’s eyes boggled, his mouth opened but no speech came out. For once, he was totally speechless. Staring back at him, on the other side of the glass, was a Dalek.

 

Chapter 4: The Zoo

The Doctor backed away from the glass, the cold sweat of pure fear beading his brow. Dimly, through the thick perspex wall, he heard the familiar word. “EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!”

The creature raised its gun and…nothing. Nothing happened, but that the Dalek bumped ineffectually up against the see-through wall.

 Realizing that the Dalek was unarmed, the Doctor grinned ruefully. He stalked up to the glass, leaned in and pressed both hands against it, coming literally nose to nose with his most frightening enemy. He felt the tingle of a mild shock, but being a Time Lord, it had little effect on him, and he ignorned it.

Imitating a certain American movie idol, the Doctor said, “Go ahead Dalek. Make my day.” He laughed and skipped backwards. “Ha!” He chanted like a young child, “I’m in here, and you’re in there, and you can’t touch me! Ha-ha-ha, ha-ha-ha!”

“Oh, do grow up, Doctor.” A bored voice said.

 The Doctor turned round and looked. Outside his box, stood a tall dark elegant man in a spotless white toga with black trim. His neck was draped with gold chains, and heavy rings laced the man’s well-manicured fingers.

The man’s sapphire hair was carefully coiffed and the sandals on his feet were trimmed in pure gold. “All the stories about you…but I was hardly expecting this sort of behavior from a Time Lord. What with the legends, I was rather expecting something more…” He very deliberately looked down his nose at the Doctor and sniffed, “more…dignified.”

The man’s speech had an arrogant, superior quality about it that the Doctor took an instant dislike to. He stood with arms akimbo, and gave the man a quick disdainful appraisal.

Then, the Doctor deliberately turned his back on him. “I don’t suppose I could have my own clothes back.” He looked down at the plain mauve outfit he was dressed in. “Mauve really isn’t my colour, you know. I look like a walking alert signal. People are going to look at me and think something’s wrong.” He flopped down in an armchair and became fascinated by a loose thread in the arm. “Hmmm–shoddy workmanship, that.”

Sighing, and shifting his weight to get more comfortable, the Doctor looked over at the compartment on the other side of him. It seemed to contain a snake, similar to earth’s boa constrictors, but much, much larger.

His captor spoke. “You will have your clothes returned to you, Doctor. All in good time.”

Still plucking at the thread, the Doctor replied absently, “Oh, that’s nice. When’s dinner?”

The man shook his head in puzzlement. “Aren’t you even going to ask where you are?”

The Doctor feigned boredom. “Oh, alright,” he shrugged and rolled his eyes. “I suppose. Okay, where am I?” In reality, the Doctor was seething inside. He noticed that there were many boxes in the room, each containing one sort of alien creature or another. Many, he was familiar with, but others were well beyond his ken. He counted no less than a half dozen endangered species, and two more he’d thought were completely extinct.

“You’re in my collection. My very own personal museum. Oh, I let others come in here to view my little displays…for a nice fat admission fee, of course.”

The Doctor raised an eyebrow and tugged on his ear. “So, what you’re saying is, I’m in a private zoo?” 

The man in the toga merely rolled his eyes, and said in a bored tone, “In a manner of speaking, Doctor. Although, I wouldn’t be so crude as to call it that.” The man turned and walked away. “I’ll have one of the guards give you back your attire momentarily. Feeding time is in one hour.”

Staring at the ceiling, the Doctor asked, “Is it chips? I love chips.”

“Chips? Oh, yes, an ancient earth food. I suppose that could be managed.”

Before going through the door, the man turned and faced the doctor. “Oh, and I wouldn’t try to escape, if I were you. The walls here are very sensitive. Too much pressure against the perspex panel, and a high-intensity particle beam is discharged. The harder and more frequently pressure is put against the walls, the stronger the energy beam gets. It might only stun you a few times at first–most of my specimens learn quickly to stay away from the perspex. You, however…” He bit hit lip thoughtfully, “Well, I have a feeling that might not deter a Time Lord. So I’m telling you now–don’t bother trying to escape. I’d hate to lose another specimen, especially the last of a species.”

 The Doctor’s face retained the bored look, but his eyes darkened with anger. The man inserted a card in a slot by the doorway. The door slid open and closed behind him. The Doctor sighed. He had to get out of here…but how?

 

Chapter 5: The Doctor Sings

As promised, the Doctor’s suit was delivered to him after only a few minutes had passed. A tall slinky female in a very brief lavender toga came to his cage, attended by a guard wearing a black tunic and an elaborate gold armored breastplate and gold helmet. He was also carrying a very lethal looking blaster in his hand.

The two newcomers stood waiting outside the box. The Doctor decided to ignore them, and started singing instead. He chose an old Earth tune by a singer named Bob Dylan, “…look out kid, no matter what you did, walk on your tip toes, don’t try No Doz, better stay away from those, that carry a fire hose, keep a clean nose, watch the plainclothes, you don’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows…”

Cupping his hands in immitation of holding an instrument, he Doctor also did his best imitation of a harmonica solo.

The two menials on the outside began looking at the Doctor and each other with initially perplexed, then extremely worried expressions. “Perhaps you’d better go and get the boss.” The guard said to the female.

Not taking her eyes off of the Doctor, she nodded and hurried away.

Moments later, the Doctor’s captor arrived. Slumped sideways across the chair, the Doctor watched him approach out of the corner of his eye, but resumed singing, “Don’t wear sandals, try to avoid the scandals, don’t wanna’ be a bum, you better chew gum, the pump don’t work ‘cause the vandals took the handles.”

The man pressed a button and a hitherto invisible window opened in the front of the cage. “Honestly Doctor, these theatrics won’t do you a bit of good–other than alarming the help, that is.” He sneered.

The Doctor sat up abruptly and looked at the tall man. “Ah. There you are. I need to have a word with you.” He bounded up from the chair in such a way, as to make the guard step back and point his blaster.

The tall man swept the guard’s blaster down, with a dismissive gesture. “Don’t damage the specimens, you idiot!” He looked at the Doctor coolly. “Is there something more you wanted? It’s always possible we can accommodate you–provided you cooperate with us completely, of course.” He gave an oily smile. “After all, you are one of the top trophies in my collection.”

The Doctor made a face. “Trophy? Trophy? Waal–I’ve been called a lot of things before, but a trophy? That sounds so…cheap. By the way, do you have a name–or shall I just start calling you, ‘hey you,’ or ‘zookeeper’ or ‘that guy with the bad haircut?’ leaning in closer he whispered, “Or perhaps there’s a reason to keep your name a secret, hmmm–?”

Grinning smugly in satisfaction, the Doctor noted that he’d finally seemed to have pushed the man’s buttons.

“You don’t need to know my name, Time Lord,” the man growled, ”because you’re never going to leave here…not even in death!”

 

Chapter 6: The meeting

The Doctor was not impressed. “Ohh–now who’s being,” he made quotes in the air with his fingers, “theatrical?” He paced in front of the tall man. “The thing is, you see, I figure if you don’t want me to know your name, you must have a very strong reason for that, ey? What is it then? Planetary authorities don’t know about your little hobby? Bet they wouldn’t like that, no siree-bob, I just bet they wouldn’t. Shut you down, maybe even toss you in your own little cage…” He turned and stood in front of the man. “You can tell me, I’m right, aren’t I? Huh? Huh?”

The Doctor noted the frown on his captor’s face with an inner satisfaction. “Aww–I can see I am.” He shrugged, “Then again, I’m almost always right. After all, as you say, I am a Time Lord.”

The man gave a casual shrug–too casual, the Doctor thought. Sounding artificially bored, the man said, “Oh very well. I’ll humour you, Doctor. You may call me…The Collector.”

The Doctor mulled this over. “Ehhh–well, I suppose it’s better than, ‘hey you.’ But I was thinking of something a bit more dynamic–how about ‘Bob?’ That’s a good strong manly name. Do you think that I could have my suit?” He tugged on his jim-jams. “This thing’s a bit plain, for my taste.”

The Collector nodded silently to the lavender toga girl. She handed the Doctor his suit, tie, shirt and shoes through the opening in the wall.

 The Doctor stood there awkwardly, looking at the woman. “Uhh–I don’t suppose I could entice you to turn your back?”

 The female flunky merely smiled. “As you can see, sir, I had it cleaned and pressed for you. It now looks like new–even better, perhaps.”

The Doctor looked at it with a measure of distaste. “I rather liked this just the way it was, thank you” He held it out from him, frowning. “Ewww–now I’m going to look like a…a…” He groped for the right word, “a bloomin’ tory.”

That got him a blank look from the woman. “A what?” She asked.

The Doctor shook his head. “My second-worst nightmare,” he said, glancing at the Dalek.

Again she simply smiled, and gave him an uncomprehending look. “Oh, never mind.” He fussed, “I’ll just go and slip behind the sofa then. Be back in a tick.”

Loosening the buttons on his jumpsuit, the Doctor  turned and crawled into the space between the small sofa and the solid back wall of his cage. Muffled noises were heard for several minutes, and a bit of muttering under the breath that none of them could manage to make out–they wouldn’t have understood it, anyway, as the Doctor was cursing in low Galifreyan.

The Doctor came back out from behind the sofa, straightening his tie. He purposefully strode up to the Collector. “Now. Tell me how you managed to get hold of the Albermein. They banned that particular tranquilizer, because the only way to make it was from the blood of newborn Quadrillas. Nearly wiped out the entire planet, making that drug, over forty million…” He stopped.

Across the room from him he saw a glass cage marked “Quadrilla.” In the cage, was a delicate bird-like creature, about six meters in height. It was green and white feathered, with a gentle and intelligent looking face. It sat in one corner, and seemed to be in mourning. The Doctor’s face first registered comprehension, then complete repulsion. “You killed her baby, didn’t you?” He clenched his fists tightly. “Murdered it, just so you could capture me?” He had all he could do to force himself not to reach through the open partition to get at The Collector. “You miserable, rotten excuse for a living being. To think that a planet as wonderful as Snod could produce an abhorrence like you. You make me sick!”

The Doctor’s outburst didn’t seem to have any effect on the man. He just crossed his arms and smiled superiorly. “It was well worth it, Doctor. Look at you. The last Time Lord, the Oncoming Storm himself.”

At the mention of that name, the Dalek in the next cell began its dreary “Exterminate!” mantra, banging against the glass.

Simultaneously, both the Doctor and The Collector said to it, “Oh shut up!”

Surprisingly, it did.

The Collector looked at the watch hanging from the money pouch at his waist. “Oh, will you look at the time? I’m afraid that we’ll have to postpone your meal for a bit. I’ve guests arriving to view the displays, can’t keep them waiting.” He nodded to the guard and the window was closed.

At that moment, a chime rang out. The woman in the lavender toga departed and the guard took up his station at the door. The Collector mingled with his guests as they came through the door.

The Doctor sighed deeply, hands in his pockets. At that moment, he felt something in the right hand suit pocket and smiled slightly. “Right then,” he shouted at the Collector, “See you later…Bob.”

 

Chapter 7: Stuffed and Mounted

 Looking at the Dalek with with the same repugnance he had shown The Collector, the Doctor said, “What are you staring at? Fat lot of good you are.” hee 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 suit pocket,  pulled out his sunglasses and put them on. 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?” He paced back and forth, deep in thought.

 So lost in thought was the Doctor, that he nearly fell over the armchair. He stopped abruptly. He had an idea.

Staring 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 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 it.”

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 back, by the beam from the sonic screwdriver.

The particle beams short-circuited. The Doctor re-adjusted the setting and pointed the screwdriver at the glass. It shattered and he stepped through. Only to be accosted by five very serious looking guards with blasters.

The Doctor’s arms shot up in the air. “Well, you can’t blame a Time Lord for trying.” he said with a chagrined smile.

The Collector strode through the door, clapping his hands. “Oh good. Splendid. Very, very good. You know, I had a bet with my investors that you would try to escape tonight. I won a treble pile of credits because of you. Very nicely done, Doctor.”

 The Time Lord smiled, though inside he was wondering where this was all going to lead. “Umm–thanks, I think. 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?”

His captor gave a grim smile. “Why, stuff and mount you of course.”

Giving the man an incredulous look, the Doctor said. “Stuff and mount me? What, you mean like a moose?”

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. You’ll just have to go.”

The man in the spotless toga gave a curt nod at the guards and they aimed their guns at the Doctor.

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 evident 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, his face furious. “It’s an outrage!”

 The Collector started to speak. “I–I, you don’t understand, if it wasn’t for me…”

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.”

The military officer-politician turned his back on his own brother in disappointment and disgust.  He gave a curt nod to the two Royal Snoddish guards covering The Collector with their weapons. “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 creatures, 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.”

Sighing with relief,  the Time Lord slipped on his sunglasses and smiled broadly. “So am I, you have no idea.”

End.