The Master (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
best_served_hot) wrote2010-02-15 09:12 pm
best_served_hot) wrote2010-02-15 09:12 pm
fic: ripples
Weeks of searching and subterfuge punctuated by ratty bed and baths with leaky pipes, and if they were lucky mattresses, gave them nothing. Hour after hour, day after day and the noise, the noise it was creeping up louder again. Sometimes it was bearable and sometimes, well, he amused himself by killing the freak in some inventive way when he least expected it.
It became a ritual of sorts and Jack, despite having gone through an obscene amount of clothing because of it, dealt with it. If it was a deal with the proverbial devil that was needed to find the Doctor, then he would do that and then some.
Another night and Jack had, grudgingly, given in to his need for sleep before the Master, who had already been up for a day and a half, sifting through information. When he finally felt the need to sleep, it was early and so he closed the laptop down, shifting over the small space to lie on the far edge of the mattress.
Sleep didn't come, his mind was still too loud with the noise and the overabundance of data. Where have you gone, Doctor?, it was the pressing question, in his mind and the freak's who was currently sleeping rather soundly next to him. There was a broken pipe hanging from the ceiling that could easily be pried loose in order to be used to bludgeon him to death. He watched it drip a moment and decided it wasn't worth the effort.
Then his eyes landed on the puddle, the ripples reverberating through the small space and back again. Where. When. Lost. Found. Lost again. Time. Space. The nothingness in between. Where, Doctor? Where did you go?
The equipment used to track the TARDIS was surprisingly accurate but then the signal just stopped, like it had never been there to begin with.
Ripples.
The Master's sudden and sharp movement out of the bed, jostled Jack into wakefulness and he bolted upright. He knocked over a chair in his hurry to reopen the laptop and power it up. It took longer than Jack liked to admit for him to shake off his grogginess, playing babysitter to a genocidal maniac tended to take it out of you.
"What is it?" started Jack, watching him accessing the tracking systems and other assorted sightings from around the world before all contact had suddenly ceased. "Master, what's going on?"
"Ripples."
Jack stared, maybe the Master had finally lost it. Completely and utterly. He'd tried, at various intervals throughout their adventures so far to find out just what exactly had been done in the facility he'd taken him out of. Each time he received a vague response and the Master would refuse to speak with him about it after.
He learned to let it alone but he knew the Time Lord was far from the control he prided himself on having throughout that Year on the Valiant. He was a ticking time bomb waiting to go off at the slightest shift.
"Right, ripples. Pretty to look at. What's important about them?" he tried, eyeing him as swung his legs over the edge of the bed as the Master furiously typed away at the keys. He received what he had labeled as the, "Are you an idiot?" look and the Master simply continued whatever task he was so focused on.
Breaking away from the laptop, he rifled through a bag of supplies, which included a notebook and a permanent marker. "The Doctor didn't just vanish," the Master finally started, flipping rapidly through the jumbled pages and growling when he didn't find a fresh sheet. "There are ripples, a signal, but they aren't going out from where the TARDIS' last location was."
He looked to Jack expectantly but the apparent, obvious, genius of his metaphor seemed to have gotten lost somewhere along the way. The Master threw the notebook away violently and stalked over to the walls, shredding the water-stained wallpaper with his hands. The loud ripping sound filled the room before he began to draw it all out.
Jack watched, finally standing, and moved to get a better look at just what he was writing out. The Master didn't talk after he began, working like he was possessed by some other force. It was nearly dawn by the time he was done and he could see the telltale signs of the Time Lord's movements slowing, growing sluggish almost from lack of rest.
The mess of mathematical calculations superimposed over planetary system star charts was chaotic and seemed to have no rhyme or reason. The Master's fingers were blackened from the marker, small smudges littering the few and far between empty spaces between computations where he'd drawn lines to points only he could see.
Seeing that he seemed to have finished, Jack spoke up. "So, what exactly am I looking at?"
The Master favored him with the 'idiot' look again and moved over, circling one small, lone planet. "The Doctor is there. Or he was, a few months ago."
"You're certain?"
The Master nodded.
"Right, then all we have to do is hitch a ride-"
"There's a cargo skiff in a high orbit. Minimal to nonexistent internal sensors, probably cobbled together what little they have in order to monitor the radiation levels in their engine room. Between four and eight crew members," the Master spouted off quickly.
Jack huffed. "And you know this how?"
The Master gave him a serene little smile. "My satellites, remember?"
Jack rolled his eyes but nodded. "Right, then we contact them and see if they'll take us on."
"Or," began the Master. "We use that nifty little contraption attached to your wrist and simply stowaway."
"There's no need for that and we don't know who they are your satellites or not."
The Master's eyes narrowed and he stabbed sharply at the wall with the marker. "If he is still there, we need to get to him before whoever or whatever took him moves him again. Contrary to your quaint little belief, I am not a compass," he spat. "If the trail goes cold, I might not be able to find it again."
Jack opened his mouth to point out that they shouldn't rush headlong into this, like so many things they'd done over the past few weeks, only to be cut off by the top of the laptop slamming closed and the Master picking it up to slam it into the side of his head. It stunned him and he reeled, hand coming up to try and ward off the next hit but to no avail. The Master relished the sound of the laptop's casing breaking apart and the crack as it hit the side of the freak's head, blood already trickling down the side as he dropped heavily to the ground, dazed.
Killing him might have been fun at this point, but it was hardly necessary.
Discarding the now useless laptop, he hunkered down, patting Jack down as he groaned and tried to bat his hands away when they closed on the laser screwdriver. He pulled it out and took hold of Jack's wrist where the vortex manipulator was strapped, twisting it hard enough to feel the crack of bone from the pressure applied. Jack bit back a sound of pain as the Master flipped the device open and made the necessary calculations.
"Now, what is that annoying phrase the Doctor favors at times like these?" he mused, before ducking his head down so Jack could make out the manic grin. "Oh yeah," he triggered the vortex manipulator to activate, feeling the sick tug creep up his spine as if it were saturating his very being.
"Allons-y!" was the last thing Jack heard before he found himself collapsing onto the deck of the aforementioned skiff with the Master, giving a groan. Oh, he hated the Master. So very much.
prompt: none
words: 1361
It became a ritual of sorts and Jack, despite having gone through an obscene amount of clothing because of it, dealt with it. If it was a deal with the proverbial devil that was needed to find the Doctor, then he would do that and then some.
Another night and Jack had, grudgingly, given in to his need for sleep before the Master, who had already been up for a day and a half, sifting through information. When he finally felt the need to sleep, it was early and so he closed the laptop down, shifting over the small space to lie on the far edge of the mattress.
Sleep didn't come, his mind was still too loud with the noise and the overabundance of data. Where have you gone, Doctor?, it was the pressing question, in his mind and the freak's who was currently sleeping rather soundly next to him. There was a broken pipe hanging from the ceiling that could easily be pried loose in order to be used to bludgeon him to death. He watched it drip a moment and decided it wasn't worth the effort.
Then his eyes landed on the puddle, the ripples reverberating through the small space and back again. Where. When. Lost. Found. Lost again. Time. Space. The nothingness in between. Where, Doctor? Where did you go?
The equipment used to track the TARDIS was surprisingly accurate but then the signal just stopped, like it had never been there to begin with.
Ripples.
The Master's sudden and sharp movement out of the bed, jostled Jack into wakefulness and he bolted upright. He knocked over a chair in his hurry to reopen the laptop and power it up. It took longer than Jack liked to admit for him to shake off his grogginess, playing babysitter to a genocidal maniac tended to take it out of you.
"What is it?" started Jack, watching him accessing the tracking systems and other assorted sightings from around the world before all contact had suddenly ceased. "Master, what's going on?"
"Ripples."
Jack stared, maybe the Master had finally lost it. Completely and utterly. He'd tried, at various intervals throughout their adventures so far to find out just what exactly had been done in the facility he'd taken him out of. Each time he received a vague response and the Master would refuse to speak with him about it after.
He learned to let it alone but he knew the Time Lord was far from the control he prided himself on having throughout that Year on the Valiant. He was a ticking time bomb waiting to go off at the slightest shift.
"Right, ripples. Pretty to look at. What's important about them?" he tried, eyeing him as swung his legs over the edge of the bed as the Master furiously typed away at the keys. He received what he had labeled as the, "Are you an idiot?" look and the Master simply continued whatever task he was so focused on.
Breaking away from the laptop, he rifled through a bag of supplies, which included a notebook and a permanent marker. "The Doctor didn't just vanish," the Master finally started, flipping rapidly through the jumbled pages and growling when he didn't find a fresh sheet. "There are ripples, a signal, but they aren't going out from where the TARDIS' last location was."
He looked to Jack expectantly but the apparent, obvious, genius of his metaphor seemed to have gotten lost somewhere along the way. The Master threw the notebook away violently and stalked over to the walls, shredding the water-stained wallpaper with his hands. The loud ripping sound filled the room before he began to draw it all out.
Jack watched, finally standing, and moved to get a better look at just what he was writing out. The Master didn't talk after he began, working like he was possessed by some other force. It was nearly dawn by the time he was done and he could see the telltale signs of the Time Lord's movements slowing, growing sluggish almost from lack of rest.
The mess of mathematical calculations superimposed over planetary system star charts was chaotic and seemed to have no rhyme or reason. The Master's fingers were blackened from the marker, small smudges littering the few and far between empty spaces between computations where he'd drawn lines to points only he could see.
Seeing that he seemed to have finished, Jack spoke up. "So, what exactly am I looking at?"
The Master favored him with the 'idiot' look again and moved over, circling one small, lone planet. "The Doctor is there. Or he was, a few months ago."
"You're certain?"
The Master nodded.
"Right, then all we have to do is hitch a ride-"
"There's a cargo skiff in a high orbit. Minimal to nonexistent internal sensors, probably cobbled together what little they have in order to monitor the radiation levels in their engine room. Between four and eight crew members," the Master spouted off quickly.
Jack huffed. "And you know this how?"
The Master gave him a serene little smile. "My satellites, remember?"
Jack rolled his eyes but nodded. "Right, then we contact them and see if they'll take us on."
"Or," began the Master. "We use that nifty little contraption attached to your wrist and simply stowaway."
"There's no need for that and we don't know who they are your satellites or not."
The Master's eyes narrowed and he stabbed sharply at the wall with the marker. "If he is still there, we need to get to him before whoever or whatever took him moves him again. Contrary to your quaint little belief, I am not a compass," he spat. "If the trail goes cold, I might not be able to find it again."
Jack opened his mouth to point out that they shouldn't rush headlong into this, like so many things they'd done over the past few weeks, only to be cut off by the top of the laptop slamming closed and the Master picking it up to slam it into the side of his head. It stunned him and he reeled, hand coming up to try and ward off the next hit but to no avail. The Master relished the sound of the laptop's casing breaking apart and the crack as it hit the side of the freak's head, blood already trickling down the side as he dropped heavily to the ground, dazed.
Killing him might have been fun at this point, but it was hardly necessary.
Discarding the now useless laptop, he hunkered down, patting Jack down as he groaned and tried to bat his hands away when they closed on the laser screwdriver. He pulled it out and took hold of Jack's wrist where the vortex manipulator was strapped, twisting it hard enough to feel the crack of bone from the pressure applied. Jack bit back a sound of pain as the Master flipped the device open and made the necessary calculations.
"Now, what is that annoying phrase the Doctor favors at times like these?" he mused, before ducking his head down so Jack could make out the manic grin. "Oh yeah," he triggered the vortex manipulator to activate, feeling the sick tug creep up his spine as if it were saturating his very being.
"Allons-y!" was the last thing Jack heard before he found himself collapsing onto the deck of the aforementioned skiff with the Master, giving a groan. Oh, he hated the Master. So very much.
prompt: none
words: 1361