"Science fiction conventions are great. At a convention, you're no longer just a lonely geek with no life and a bad dress sense. You're one of hundreds of geeks with no lives and bad dress senses."
No, I haven't taken to embellishing my editorials with
quotation marks: the above comes from from the editorial in a
very special one-off issue of Ibn
Qirtaiba for SCIFI.CON. SCIFI.CON is the first
on-line science fiction convention, which runs from 31 October to
3 November 1996. Ibn Qirtaiba is one of a small number of
fan magazines that have been invited to participate in the
convention. Ibn Qirtaiba's special 
SCIFI.CON edition returns to the perennial theme
of the interplay (or lack thereof) between media and literary SF.
If you're a long-time reader you'll find a lot that is very
familiar in the SCIFI.CON edition, but if you're a casual reader
please check it out for a short and snazzy overview of where the
magazine has been in the past nineteen issues.
Issue 19 marks the return of the Worlds of Fandom column, which focuses on a specific area of media SF fandom each issue. IQ's other regular column, the Fiction Archives, will be shelved temporarily as the Worlds of Fandom take centre screen, but please continue submitting book reviews for the eventual return of the Fiction Archives column. The topic of this issue's Worlds of Fandom column is so new as to barely have attracted a fan following, but Neverwhere caught the editorial eye so keenly that it called for a review immediately. You'll also find within a hauntingly good short story The Hubris Effect by Loren W Cooper, the fifth set of 10 Coolest SF Sites and the fifth installment of Of Kings and Pawns. Your comments and contributions are always welcome.
Worlds of Fandom: Neverwhere
Neverwhere is the latest creation of Neil Gaiman, an
award-winning author best known for his comic The Sandman,
and previously interviewed in Ibn Qirtaiba. Neverwhere
is a miniseries of six episodes for BBC Television, and a novel
released contemporaneously, being both Gaiman's first excursion
from print onto the small screen and his first solo novel. 
Neverwhere is a gothic fantasy set in an
alternative London, "London Below", which is situated
above and below the streets of the London we know. The people and
places of London Below, whilst not strictly invisible, aren't
noticed or remembered by the residents of the London Above in
their more humdrum reality.
The first television episode, "Door", begins with Richard Mayhew (Gary Bakewell) introducing himself as an ordinary bloke who works in securities, is engaged to a woman named Jessica and dislikes heights, rats and blood. Blood is the first of these hates he is to encounter, en route to a business dinner with Jessica (Elizabeth Marmur) when he stoops to help a bleeding girl on the pavement. Jessica breaks off their engagement when Richard takes the girl home to recover. The girl, who introduces herself as Door (Laura Fraser), is being pursued by two sinister "brothers", Mr Croup (Hywel Bennett) and Mr Vandemar (Clive Russell) whom Richard fends off. With Richard's help Door summons the Marquis of Carabas (Paterson Joseph) to take her back to London Below. When Richard returns to work the next day, nobody seems to notice him, and he realises that he has become part of London Below.
In the second episode "Knightsbridge" Richard is guided through London Below by a "Rat Speaker" Anasthesia (Amy Marston) to meet Door at the Floating Market. He discovers that Door is on a mission to avenge the deaths of her parents at the hands of Croup and Vandemar. Her father's last message was that an angel named Islington could help her discover the person who ordered their deaths. A bodyguard Hunter (Tanya Moodie) accompanies her, the Marquis and Richard on their journey to find the Angel.
In "Earl's Court to Islington" the party, with directions from the Earl of Earl's Court, reach the domain of the Angel Islington (Peter Capaldi) through a gateway called the Angelus. Islington tells them that a key from the Blackfriars is needed to complete their quest, which Richard obtains in "Blackfriars" after surviving a mental ordeal. In "Downstreet" the group return to the Floating Market en route to the Angel's domain; a traitor in their midst is revealed; and the Beast of London attacks. In the final episode "As Above, So Below" we discover who ordered the deaths of Door's family and the true nature of the key Richard won is revealed. Despite capture and torture Door and her friends eventually win through, and Richard is returned home - for a time.
Neverwhere has a familiar atmosphere to it for fans of Neil Gaiman's graphic novels, but it is not quite like anything else I've seen on TV. Gaiman himself has described it as "Not as scary as The X-Files, not as funny as Red Dwarf," which is an accurate although inadequate description. Suffice to say that it is a present-day fantasy with elements of comedy, horror, myth and absurdism. Bearing in mind Gaiman's penchant for obscure references from history and legend, I was expecting the series to be less accessible than it was. However apart from some straightforward allusions to angels and Atlantis, Neverwhere can be enjoyed without any knowledge of the research Gaiman has obviously put into it. In fact without the occasional swearing, Neverwhere could easily be passed off as a childrens' series (which was probably the very reason why Gaiman wisely left the swearing in).
The characters are one of the miniseries' strongest
points. Richard describes himself as "boring" at the
start of the first episode, but endears himself to the viewer by
the end. It is no coincidence that Door has a lot in common with
Death (of Sandman and The High Cost of Living
fame), and the vampiric Velvets fill out Gaiman's quota of Goth
look-alikes. Mr Croup and Mr Vandemar are the kind of characters
only British television is capable of - Gaiman owes more than a
small debt to Doctor Who scriptwriter Robert Holmes for
these wonderfully comic villains. Perhaps best of all is Paterson
Joseph's inspired portrayal of the urbane Marquis of Carabas.
The sets are equally impressive, from the Earl's tube train bedecked with chandeliers, to Islington's cave where candles spontaneously light in his wake, and the bohemian chaos of the Floating Market. Such sets often turn out poorly on videotape, but in Neverwhere the director has managed to maintain a suitably dark, spooky atmosphere throughout.
Neverwhere was a great success on its debut screening in England, although it has yet to be screened in the United States or Australia. There is already talk of a sequel to this quirky fantasy, as well as possible film and comic book adaptations. Although Gaiman is increasingly busy with a number of different projects, it is to be hoped that he will be able to revisit Neverwhere soon.
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When I was a child my entire existence was planned for me from the moment I could talk until my death. Indeed, this was so for all of us, and we had no cause to doubt the veracity of this foresight or the ability of those who made these plans to carry them out, for were we not the children of the gods? And did the gods not walk among us, clothed in the flesh of men?
Even in the creche, as I played with my brothers and sisters, as we unknowingly strengthened our fledgling minds and bodies, as sacred purpose forged us into unbreakable instruments, even then we knew the will of the gods. Each of us felt the touch of the gods as they gave to us our morality. You must understand that right for me had always been defined by a translucent inner glow of satisfaction, wrong by peaking fear, sweating, nausea, blood pounding on endlessly through my flesh. So it was for all of us. The gods knew our actions and reached into our hearts to deliver approbation or disapproval. So we knew them.
And they favored us beyond ordinary mortals. Were we not the Chosen? They gave us the gift of security, for did they not provide our every need? They gave us the gift of their presence, for did they not walk among us as solicitous gods will? They gave us the gift of knowledge, for did they not teach us everything needed to perform the will of our gods? And they gave us the gift of control. We learned to control our physical responses, to use and tune our bodies like beautifullycrafted instruments by playing the strings of our internal levels of excitement. The gods trained each of us to use this control, elevating our responses in combat, heightening our reflexes, giving us the benefit of more than simple adrenalin. We could fully utilize in the service of the gods what ordinary men barely touch in moments of extreme fear and anger.
I used this gift many times carrying out the will of the gods. At no time did I feel remorse. Why should I? The gods gave my subjects to me to offer up, told me to kill, and so it was right. Historically, other religions than ours have produced fanaticism on a larger scale with less certainty of the divine will.
That was why, in the fullness of my time as a servant of the gods, Inders called me into his office, his face white but his voice calm. I was the best, foremost among the Chosen. He was chief in our pantheon. I knew him as I knew all of the gods, by that inner wrench called awe. In heat and trembling, in that upheaval of fear did our gods make themselves known to us, and only in their presence did the straight line of my existence peak so, such that fear became ecstasy. "Luke. I have a new assignment for you."
I nodded, waiting as he ran his tongue over his lips. In another I might have judged this to be nervousness, but the gods are unreadable by definition. "This is a special assignment, unlike any you have ever had. Paul has defected, betraying the WPF, fragmenting us into factions. There is no telling how far he might go. You must find him and kill him."
He gave me information about how to find Paul, and I noted it automatically, trying to hide my discomfort from my god. To kill a god! War between the gods! Such a concept attacked my stolid plane of security, ate into me like poison. Inders was the head of our pantheon, yes, but Paul was our master, our mentor, the smith that forged our souls in the heat of his discipline. Had he not been a god, I still would have worshiped him. And now Inders had commanded that I kill him. I could do nothing to Paul, yet I could not disobey the will of the gods. Frozen, I studied the situation until the roiling within me slowly died. I was being tested, for Paul would surely destroy me in my insolence as I attacked him, a god. I would not fail the test, pleased to offer myself up for the gods at any time. I nodded to myself as I resolved the difficulty. I looked up at Inders.
"Has he any of the Chosen with him?"
Inders seemed to shudder, but his voice sounded steady. "None."
I bowed out of the room and left. Finding Paul was easy enough, for he had left me a clear trail. He had isolated himself with two men at one of our dispersion points, a bar in the city. The bar betrayed no sign of customers, so he would be alone but for his escort, and his close presence implied a readiness to receive a message, such as I represented. I did not carry a weapon, but prepared to follow the orders to the letter. I was to seek Paul's destruction, and in it my own. It did not take me long to go up to the high place, where he waited for me.
Paul marked his presence with the bodies of men. So did he show me favor. Big men, they stood loosely, their casual pose belying the alertness which shimmered through them. They were professionals, but they were not of the Chosen. I saw them as an offering to Inders, a way to declare the purity of my intention to Paul.
I walked toward them casually, betraying no flush, no rise of energy, in fact feeling a slight warm lassitude as I strolled closer. The nearest one saw me but controlled himself, clamping down on the nervousness and tension which fatigued his body even at rest. For those not of the Chosen, such constant alertness has its price. They took such pride in their control. But this man was cautious. He wanted to identify me before he risked openly gunning me down.
I was too close when I saw his eyes widen, saw him begin to turn, watched his hand begin its smooth descent, and then the flush of adrenalin came upon me and the blood-red haze descended. I closed the distance, one hand pinning his as he tried to pull the pistol from the holster, the other striking deep into the soft tissues of his throat, so that the force of the blow crushed his larynx and smashed the back of his head into the corner of the wall behind with a clear crunch of breaking bone.
His partner pulled his weapon clear, but I had already twisted my first victim's pistol free. I fired through the coat, the pistol chuffing softly twice as the suppressor ports flared. He moved slowly, his responses glacial as I came up to speed. The impact of the heavy ten millimeter caseless rounds sounded louder than the report of the pistol, the smoldering coat gave off a harsher, more noticeable odor than the propellant.
The light in his eyes still burned as he fell back, dropping his unfired weapon. The back of my second offering's head cratered into non-existence by the expansion of the mercury-loaded shells, he hit the ground heavily a tenth of a second after his partner, and a twentieth of a second before I entered the door they guarded.
I moved swiftly, the fever burning in me now, giving me plenty of energy and more than enough speed. To my surprise I met no resistance, only the sight of a solitary figure seated at a low, chemise-covered table. My senses peaked before I allowed the power to flow back, certain that no one waited in concealment nearby. I had known, somehow, that he would test me himself.
I approached him slowly, my breathing fading to normality, my pulse less insistently present, my temperature dropping more quickly than possible for one not of the Chosen. He twirled a glass absently in one hand, and did not look up until I slid into the seat he had courteously placed across from him. When he glanced up and smiled, I lost some of my fear, reassured by his pleasant, open face and the dignified streaking of gray at his temples. Then I met his blue eyes and regained my fear. "Hello Paul."
His smile was genuinely warm. "Hello Luke." His eyes dropped, and he seemed to notice the pistol for the first time.
His smile faded as I placed the pistol flat on the table, but kept one hand on it lightly. "Do you know why I am here?"
He nodded, his smile now gone. "Inders sent you."
My face was serious, but I kept my voice steady. "I hope you will have mercy on me, Paul."
He laughed unsteadily. "Mercy isn't mine to give." He paused, then looked at me strangely. "Do you know why I'm here, Luke?"
I swallowed, but could not reply, my belly roiling within me. He continued before I found my voice. "I could have run farther. I could have taken more precautions, taken more men. I could have made it expensive for you to find me. But I know you, all of you, better than anyone, better even than Inders."
He paused, suddenly looking gray and haggard, all too mortal. I was too much a fool to see it then. "It was their project, not mine. They twisted your minds and bodies, made you what you are. I couldn't take that any more, seeing what you children had become. I picked you out, held you in my own hands, trained you, watched the changes take effect, and watched you use the gifts we gave you even as they corrupted you."
He broke off, ran his hands through disordered hair as I blinked, not knowing how to respond to a god who was ceasing to be godlike. Still he kept his hold on me, kept the thrill of awe running through me, for so do I know my gods. He spoke again, his eyes suddenly alive. "But I know enough, knew more than they did. You were still human, still men in spite of Inders' biological manipulation. And it is the way of a man to turn his face from his gods and cast them down when they fail him. Men always destroy their gods in the end. It would have happened eventually, but I can precipitate it. You will be the instrument. Do you know your namesake, star of the morning? Tell me, are you familiar with hubris?"
I was caught off guard, lured into his words as his body twisted. Then training, his training, took over and I lunged, fever rising in me into a blur of speed. The softness of the double report surprised me as I staggered to my feet, blood hot on my left hand, the arm numbed from the impact of the bullet. I stared at Paul, folded upon himself grotesquely in death, his face surprisingly peaceful as it turned up toward the sky. A god had died and left the corpse of a man behind.
It took me time to bind my arm, more time to leave that place. It had taken but an instant to reorder my world. I tucked the pistol into the back of my belt as I stepped out the door. I turned my face away from my fallen god and too quickly came to the other.
Inders looked shocked when he saw me, fatigued and bloody, leaning against his door. "Did you?..."
I nodded, tired and sore suddenly, smiling at the silent presence of Micah, one of my brothers. Somehow the world had changed for me. I had lost something which had kept it safe and comfortable. It had not been so brilliant before, so large and terrifying, looming above me in magnificent splendor.
Perhaps my new perspective had given me cynicism, or perhaps they had trained me too well. Whatever the cause, I saw Inders turn and nod to Micah, and I saw Micah begin to move leisurely, for he expected no resistance. He would have expected it in another, perhaps, but not in one of the Chosen. Not in the presence of a god.
I had not been searched. As one of the Chosen I was above reproach. Perhaps even before then I had already contemplated the unthinkable. Why else would I have carried the pistol into that place? I slipped my hand from my side into the back of my belt even as Micah began to draw. I beat him narrowly: my slug smashing the bones of his hand to powder, his only creasing my side, causing pain to blaze whitely under the surge of adrenalin.
Micah stooped and rolled, his other hand closing around the pistol he had dropped, but I had already turned, bringing my weapon into line with the man who rose from behind the desk, shaking, his face white with sudden realization. I shot him in the left eye and whipped back to Micah, whose left hand held the pistol solidly on the center of my body, but whose sole awareness focused on the enormity of Inders' death. More than a god, an entire religion died with one large, slightly overweight, gray-haired man, and it was the passing of this, not the shell, that held me as frozen as Micah against the support of the door.
Micah pulled his attention back to me, his hand trembling. "You killed him."
I sighed, increasing the blocks on the pain which throbbed in my arm and surged afresh in my side. Blood would mark me. I would have to conceal its traces when I made my escape. Paul's training still held, long after the fact of his death.
I answered Micah frankly as I pulled myself upright, away from the support of the door.
"Inders is dead. Paul is dead. There are no gods for us anymore."
Micah stared at me stupidly as his body stilled, the distanced flatness of his voice revealing his distress, such that he had consciously dampened the responses of his body. "What are you, that you could kill a god?"
I pointed at the body. "Was he a god, who died so easily?"
I turned on my heel and left. He did not kill me. I have been running since, hunted by the men who supported my existence for so long, some of whom once walked among us as gods. And they are all men. Not one of them has been one of my brothers or sisters. I have heard rumors, and I fear that the Chosen are all dead. But then everyone dies. Even gods.
I think often of Paul as I run. I remember his question and I wonder which of us he meant when he spoke of the pride which sins against the gods. But the gods don't seem to matter as they once did. My existence is not as orderly, or even as pleasant as it was when the gods ruled me.
Now I no longer follow the way of a child, and the path I tread shifts under my feet as it leads me into an uncertain future. And while the absence of all constraints which surrounds me now is sometimes frightening, in it I find something of myself that I never knew before. Even hunted and fugitive, I have more than I had when I served the gods. I will never give them anything of myself again, for though I fear and am not comforted, though I tremble and am not stilled, though I move and am not guided, I am my own.
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| 1 | Omni Online | Omni long ago published one too many UFO articles to maintain its pretensions of being a science magazine, and now is unabashed in its orientation towards SF fans. Read it for free on the World Wide Web. |
| 2 | Outpost |  Immerse yourself in this
imaginative narrative of alien life and planetary
exploration. Recommended. |
| 3 | The Scifi Site | One of the best resources on the Web for fans of SF television. Your favourite TV series, your least favourite, and some you've never even heard of are all represented here. |
| 4 | Voyager | HarperCollins' Voyager Web site is more than just an advertisement for their excellent fiction imprint, but a fully fledged online science fiction magazine. |
| 5 | SciFiWeb | The graphics are flash and the writing is hip at this popular commercial site. "Sci-Fi" means media here, with a particular focus on The X-Files. |
| 6 | Hologram Tales | Claims to be the world's most poorly paid science fiction and fantasy magazine (have I got news for them!). However Hologram Tales is clearly more than a profit-driven venture with some decent fiction, art, letters and news. |
| 7 | The Official X-Files site | Yeah, X-Files sites are a dime a dozen on the Web, but in this instance the official site is actually the best. Get the on-screen action and off-screen facts, download video promos and join discussions on your favourite X-Files topics. |
| 8 | The Official Babylon 5 site | Not quite up to the standard of the X-Files site, but another fine official site containing information, images, sounds, videos, plot synopses and a chat room. |
| 9 | MindGate | An Australian Science Fiction e-zine with a focus on fan fiction. Publishes works-in-progress as well as completed fiction, along with some electrifying graphics. |
| 10 | Ziring Book Review Page | Some thoughtful and objective reviews of recent science fiction and fantasy books can be found at this page. |
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Last time, on Star Trek: The Next Generation: With Counsellor Troi and Dr Crusher already under his control, the Master, in the guise of Diplomat Strame, hypnotises Commander Riker as Guinan watches from a distance. Dr Crusher renders Worf unconscious with a hypospray while the Doctor and Ace escape from custody to look for the Master. Troi and Dr Crusher relieve Captain Picard of command on the basis of Troi's claim that he was being controlled. Dr Crusher reports their success to the Master. And now, the continuation...
[Beginning of Act IV]
(The Enterprise again soars through open space.)
Riker <voice>: "Ship's Log, Stardate 45606.2, First Officer Riker reporting: I have just taken command for Captain Picard, who has been relieved of command by Doctor Crusher. Hopefully, she will soon be able to find a way to free him of the evil influence that he is being control by. Although Counsellor Troi has informed me that there is no proof of which of our visitors is responsible for the current situation, we are using all available means to determine whether the Doctor or Diplomat Strame is guilty. Needless to say, the Doctor's recently discovered escape has only complicated matters. Meanwhile, we are approaching Taurus XIII and will arrive within the hour."
(The scene changes to main engineering. Geordi is studying a computer screen with a diagram of a Larian ship on it. Data, his hands at his side folded like fists, approaches and stands beside Geordi.)
Geordi: "Hi, Data. I'm glad to see you. I've been going over these Larian schematics backwards and forwards, and there seems to be some strange anomaly that I just can't put my finger on."
(Data says nothing, but swiftly reaches up and pulls off Geordi's communicator. Holding the communicator in front of him, he closes his hand and a crunching sound can be heard.)
Geordi: "Data!"
Data: "I must apologize for the necessity of doing that as swiftly as possible. However," (He opens his other hand to reveal two new communicators.) "with one of these you will be able to maintain contact with necessary personnel."
Geordi: "But, why, Data?"
Data: "One of our guests apparently has control over the minds of several Enterprise officers. These communicators will allow us to keep in contact without having to go through the main computer."
Geordi: "But to do that..."
Data: "I had to recalibrate them to send on one band, not commonly scanned by the Enterprise computers."
Geordi: "The other communicator?"
Data: "It is for Worf. I suspect you will find him in sickbay, where he was last seen. Ask for him there."
Geordi: "What makes you think I can be trusted?"
Data: "The affect of the mind control can be averted by those with strong wills or who would be otherwise unaffected by direct optical hypnosis. Your VISOR should provide you with sufficient protection."
Geordi: "Okay, I'll do it. Is Captain Picard affected?"
Data: "I cannot comment on that at the present time. If you, with Worf, could meet me in Cargo Bay 4 in thirty minutes, we will work out a plan to find and stop the responsible party."
Geordi: "I'll see you then."
(Data and Geordi leave, going their separate ways. The scene changes to Data's quarters, where the lights are dim. A figure stands in the darkness as Data enters.)
Data: "I have successfully completed phase 1 of the operation."
Picard: (Coming out of shadow) "Very good, Mister Data. Now, we had best make our way to Cargo Bay 4. We will, of course, have to be careful to avoid Security. They are most likely looking for us, since we never showed up at Sickbay."
Data: "Aye, sir." (He starts for the door, then stops and turns.) "Sir, should we not try to convince the crew that it is Commander Riker, Counsellor Troi, and Doctor Crusher who are being controlled?"
Picard: "I doubt that your observation that Doctor Crusher and Counsellor Troi were acting unusually would be enough to sway the minds of the entire crew. Presently, there is no reason to polarize the crew's opinions of who is and is not being controlled. Also, we need to find who is controlling them. It might not be easy while they know they have the disadvantage."
Data: "Very well, sir." (He and Picard leave.)
(The scene changes to a corridor. The Doctor and Ace are walking along it.)
Ace: "I tell you, Professor, we're lost."
Doctor: "Nonsense. These corridors all look alike. At any rate, we won't find the TARDIS or the Master if we stay in one place."
Ace: "But we won't find them either if we're caught. We've already avoided a lot of security officers."
Doctor: "Then we'll just have to keep doing it, won't we?"
(Suddenly he stops, and holds up his hand to signal Ace to do the same.)
Doctor <whispering>: "Quickly, over here." (They step down a side corridor as a Security Guard passes.)
Ace: "See? We can't do that forever."
(Suddenly, a security guard comes around the corner from the other direction. At first he's surprised, but then he draws his phaser.)
Security guard: "Stop! You're coming with me to see Commander Riker."
(The Doctor and Ace raise their arms and start walking ahead of the Security officer. The scene changes to sickbay, where Geordi enters. He approaches a nurse.)
Geordi: "I'm looking for Worf."
Nurse: "Doctor Crusher said he isn't to be disturbed."
Geordi: "I'll take full responsibility."
Nurse: "Doctor Crusher really should be notified."
Geordi: "Why? Worf isn't being treated for a medical problem, is he? How long has he been here?"
Nurse: "Since Doctor Crusher left a half-hour ago."
Geordi: "Look, this a Security matter and it's important I see him immediately."
Nurse: "Okay, he's in the lab, back here." (The nurse leads Geordi to the lab door and presses the button. There is no response from the inside.)
Geordi: "Are you sure he's in there?"
Nurse: "Yes, this is the room."
(Geordi presses another button on the side of the door and it opens. He and the nurse go inside. Geordi immediately sees Worf's body and runs over to it. He quickly feels for Worf's pulse.)
Geordi: "He's okay. Do you have anything that can wake him?"
Nurse: "Yes, but Doctor Crusher..."
Geordi: "He needs to be treated right now. It's important."
Nurse: "I don't know, but..." (The nurse goes and brings back a hypospray.) "this should wake him up."
(The hypospray hisses against Worf's arm. His eyes suddenly pop open and he throws Geordi back into a table.)
Worf: "Commander! My apologies. I thought you were... someone else." (He helps Geordi up.)
Geordi <winded>: "That's okay, but next time be a little gentler."
Worf: "A warrior is not gentle."
Geordi: "Right now, we've got work to do." (He and Worf leave.)
(The scene changes to the corridor outside of sickbay. Worf is affixing the new communicator to his uniform.)
Worf: "I must find Doctor Crusher."
Geordi: "I know how you feel, but Data wants us to meet him in Cargo Bay 4."
Worf: "Doctor Crusher is being controlled. She cannot be allowed to roam the ship unattended."
Geordi: "It looks to me like Data thinks it important that you're there. We don't really know who's being controlled other than Doctor Crusher right now."
(The Doctor and Ace, followed by the Security guard, still with phaser drawn, come down the corridor.)
Security guard: "Lieutenant Worf, these two escaped and I was just taking them to Commander Riker for questioning."
Worf: "You will release the Doctor and his companion to my custody. I'll make sure they get to Commander Riker." (He draws his own phaser.)
Security guard: "Aye, sir." (He leaves.)
Doctor: "Thank you."
Worf: "There is no need to thank me. I'm going to do as I say. However, it may be useful if Commander Data questioned you first."
(They walk on down the corridor. The scene changes to the bridge. Ro is at the conn. Riker sits in the command chair, with Troi in her usual spot at his left. Seated to his right, in Riker's usual seat, is Doctor Crusher.)
Ro: "We're approaching Taurus XIII, sir."
Riker: "Take us out of warp and establish standard orbit around the planet, Ensign."
Ro: "Aye, sir."
Crusher: "Soon Diplomat Strame will have the chance to see how well his strategy will work."
Riker: "Yes, he will."
Tactical officer: "We are being hailed, sir."
Riker: "On screen."
(The main view screen changes from the view of the greenish planet to a face of a Taurusian. He is basically a human with dark hair, except that two bones go from the top of his nose to the middle part of the top of his head. The resulting effect makes it look like the bone structures are large eyebrows.)
Taurusian: "I am Sl'itone of Taurus XIII. We welcome the United Federation of Planets starship Enterprise."
Riker: "I'm Commander William T. Riker commanding the Enterprise."
Sl'itone: "Commander? I was under the impression that a certain Captain Picard was your leader."
Riker: "He is. However, recent events have forced me to take command."
Sl'itone: "I am sorry to hear of your Captain's misfortune. Diplomat Strame is traveling on your ship, is he not?"
Riker: "He will be down at the earliest possible opportunity."
Sl'itone: "Very good. Until then, Commander." (Screen goes back to a view of the planet.)
(The scene changes to Cargo Bay 4. Picard and Data walk through the door. Data is holding a tricorder. Both Picard and Data wear phasers, as well as another device on the other side of their uniforms.)
Data: "The readings I discovered earlier are emanating from the Doctor's vehicle, sir. However, the other, overlapping, reading is also present." (He points at some barrels.) "Behind those barrels."
Picard: (Unholsters his phaser) "Let's approach with caution, Data."
(Data takes out his phaser, too, and holds it in one hand and the tricorder in the other. As they walk, he studies the readings.)
Data: "Captain, a life sign has just appeared from out of, basically, thin air. There has been no transporter activity, however. The reading is of a..."
Strame: (He walks from behind the crates, holding a small object in his hands which is pointed directly at Picard and Data.) "I believe the word you are looking for, Data, is 'Larian.' Or, more appropriately, 'Time Lord.'"
Picard: "Time Lord? That means that the Doctor was telling the truth."
Master: "An annoying habit he started long ago. Yes, I am the Master. Not that it will matter to you for much longer. Be quite assured, Commander, that this weapon, which compresses the tissue it comes into contact with, would be sufficient to stop you. I would hate to kill you before I was ready."
Picard: "We are part of this plan of yours?"
Master: "Yes, quite so. Walk with me." (He allows Picard and Data to get in front of him and follows them toward the other end of the cargo bay.) "Your petty politics with the Taurusians and Romulans will soon be disrupted. A Federation starship captain taken hostage by the Romulans could cause much chaos. As would a Federation ship attacking a Romulan warbird in non-Federation space. The resulting war would provide many opportunities for an outsider to take control of one government or the other. Or, even both."
(Suddenly the door opens behind the Master. Worf, Geordi, the Doctor, and Ace come through the doorway. The Master turns. Quickly he fires a shot at them. Seeing him, however, Geordi and the Doctor jump to one side and Worf and Ace to the other. Data quickly leaps forward, knocking the weapon from his hand. The Master quickly runs toward where his TARDIS is being stored. Worf, using a barrel for protection, fires a phaser blast at the Master, which misses.)
Doctor: "You're letting him get away." (He starts running around the corner, as does everyone else.) "There! That's his TARDIS." (The Master's TARDIS looks like a big box, presumably what "Strame" had brought aboard. The door closes as the Master enters.)
Worf: "He will not have the opportunity to leave." (He fires a phaser blast at the TARDIS, which hits, but has no affect. The Master's TARDIS starts taking off and soon fades.)
Doctor: (He points a finger at Picard.) "You have unleashed a terror on this universe!"
[End of Act IV]