NZ2 - Doctor Who and the Pirate Planet

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DOCTOR WHO

AND THE

PIRATE PLANET

Based on the BBC television serial by Douglas Adams

DAVID BISHOP

A TSV BOOK

published by

the New Zealand

Doctor Who Fan Club

A TSV Book

Published by the New Zealand Doctor Who Fan Club, 2006

New Zealand Doctor Who Fan Club

PO Box 7061, Wellesley Street,

Auckland 1141, New Zealand

www.doctorwho.org.nz

First published in 1990 by JPS Books

Second edition published in 1991 by TSV Books

Last print edition published in 2001

This is an unofficial and unauthorised fan publication. No profits have been

derived from this book. No attempt has been made to supersede the

copyrights held by the BBC or any other persons or organisations.

Reproduction of the text of this e-book for resale or distribution is prohibited.

Cover illustration by Alistair Hughes

Contents

Prologue 5

1 The Pirate Captain 6

2 Arrival on Zanak 12

3 The Mentiads 20

4 The Omens 27

5 The Golden Age of Prosperity 34

6 The Mines of Zanak 39

7 The Gestalt 46

8 The Uprising 52

9 The Trophy Room 59

10 The Wrath of Xanxia 65

11 A Spanner in the Works 72

12 A Piece of Cake 79

Epilogue 85

Introduction

At the end of 1989, Doctor Who was coming to an end and I was preparing to emigrate

halfway round the world to London. I wasn’t sure how long I’d stay in Britain [I’m still

there, sixteen and a half years later] or when I’d be back. One of my final jobs was com-

pleting a task I’d volunteered myself for, adapting Douglas Adams’ debut Doctor Who ad-

venture The Pirate Planet into prose for the NZDWFC. Nothing like having a deadline for

concentrating the mind, I find.

I thrashed the text out on an old typewriter, sitting at a dining room table in my fa-

ther’s house. Paul Scoones kindly fixed the many errors and the results were published in

1990. Several years later Paul re-edited the text for a new edition, adding material gleaned

from the original scripts. I happily agreed with this - anybody who wants to make my work

look and read better is always my friend!

Fast forward to the year 2006; Doctor Who is back, a pop culture phenomenon that’s

bigger than ever. I have to pinch myself most days to believe that it’s true, after 16 years

of waiting. [Funny how the 1996 TV Movie has been all but forgotten, isn’t it?] Mean-

while, the NZDWFC is keeping pace with the times as always, publishing The Pirate

Planet and all the other TSV Books online. Over the years these fan-produced novelisa-

tions have drawn no little praise for tackling tricky stories and doing them justice. I’m

looking forward to seeing the results when they go online - hopefully you’ll enjoy them as

well.

In February this year, I went to the Gallifrey convention in Los Angeles. Among the

guests was David Warwick, who played Kimus in The Pirate Planet. By chance we ended

up chatting while waiting to be introduced to the convention on the opening night. Realis-

ing I was from New Zealand, David told me about living in Auckland for several years in

the early 1980s. He had fond memories of life in Ponsonby, even though it was a much

rougher and less genteel place back then than it is today. So, it seems there’s more than

one thing linking New Zealand with The Pirate Planet.

Enjoy the story. All the best bits are by Douglas Adams, all the good bits are by Paul

Scoones and I filled in the rest!

David Bishop

Scotland, May 2006.

Editor’s Note

This edition is a revised and expanded version of the novelisation by David Bishop origi-

nally published in 1990. It incorporates a significant amount of material that was either cut

from the rehearsal scripts, or recorded but excised for the transmitted television episodes.

In addition, several televised sequences omitted from the original version have been rein-

serted. Thanks are due to Andrew Pixley for his time and generosity in researching the

‘missing’ sequences; also to David Bishop for approving, these alterations.

Paul Scoones

Prologue

The boy was running for his life.

His bare feet pounded muddy pathways as he desperately tried to elude his pursuer.

The boy’s fragile chest heaved for air and his throat was raw, with a taste like blood as-

saulting his senses. Behind him the heavy breathing of his hunter grew ever closer and the

terrified youngster increased his frantic pace.

The boy began to sob uncontrollably as he ran, gasping sobs racking his lungs and

pulling away valuable breath. Tears streamed down his cheeks, flowing into fierce trickles

of sweat. Then he fell, his limbs sprawling in muddy mire...

A smile flickered sadistically across the face of a woman watching the chase - the younger

boy was caught. She considered the pursuit as an amusement, a plaything. Once all the in-

habitants of this wretched world had been her playthings, for the watching woman was

Xanxia, Queen of Zanak. No velvet glove had softened the blows struck by her iron-fisted

monarchy of terror, crushing all spirit or hope from her subjects.

But the once mighty Queen was now merely a memory on Zanak. Her reign was al-

ready becoming a black shadow over the planet’s past, the stuff of legend. Still Xanxia

lived on to plot and scheme, alone in her rotting royal residence high in the mountains

above Zanak’s largest settlement.

The tyrant ruler turned away from the window, instantly forgetting the miniature

drama being played out below. She had more important things to do - a final ploy to play

in her duel with that unbeatable foe, death. Summoning the last vestiges of her failing

strength, she activated a control on a wall of complex circuitry. An invisible beam was

thrown up into the heavens, like a grasping talon of death.

The Queen stumbled to her throne and collapsed into its cobwebbed elegance. She

closed her eyes and breathed outwards with a sound like the rattling of old bones...

The younger boy closed his eyes tightly, waiting for the inevitable blows. But the blows

did not come - instead he heard a gasp from his tormentor and felt the grip on his garments

slacken. The boy took his chance and was away and running before his hunter even real-

ised. Only when the lad was well away did he look back over his shoulder at what had dis-

tracted his pursuer.

A huge silver vessel was falling from the sky, flames and smoke pouring out behind it.

The craft plunged across the dusky horizon into the mountain range overlooking the settle-

ment. The darkness was suddenly ablaze with a light so bright the boy had to look away

for a moment. Then came a great crashing like thunder booming back and forth across the

plain, echoing from mountain to mountain.

Balaton clasped his hands over his ears and ran home, trying to block out this un-

worldly wail of death and destruction. But the echoes of this event would resound far be-

yond this night...

The Pirate Captain

...The angel blazed white, aflame with fury. ‘Die you fool, die!’ she screamed and brought

her hands together with a sound like thunder. ‘Thousands of sensors cried out inputs of

pain, systems and sinews collapsing...

Suddenly the Captain was shouting.

‘Mr Fibuli. Mr Fibuli! By all the x-ray storms of Vega, where is that nincompoop?’

The Captain blinked and realised he was still alive. But what was that recurring vision and

what did it mean?

While the Captain mused, a vexed voice filled the multi-sided chamber of metal and

glass. ‘Calling Mr Fibuli, Mr Fibuli required on the Bridge immediately.’

The Captain pushed aside thoughts of the deadly angel of darkness and let loose an-

other bellow for effect.

‘Moons of madness, why am I encumbered with incompetence?’

The subject of all this shouting entered the Bridge, striding briskly.

‘Captain, sir -’

‘Your report, Mr Fibuli...’

‘Yes sir, I have it -’

‘... Is thirty seconds late!’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘My qualities are many, Mr Fibuli...’

‘Oh, yes sir -’

‘... But an infinite capacity for patience is not among them.’ The Captain used his hu-

manoid right hand to punch a button on the private console beside his command seat, the

com. On his shoulder the robotic parrot Polyphase Avitron whirred into life and regarded

the hapless Fibuli as its next potential prey.

The second-in-command bobbed about like an escape pod in an asteroid storm,

thought the Captain - nervous and about to be struck down. He was tempted to end that

wait immediately but good deputies were hard to find on this soulless rock. The Captain

realised his mind was wandering and tried to focus on Fibuli’s words.

‘I apologise most abjectly, Captain, b-but I do have good news, sir.’

‘I hope you do!’

‘Well, sir, all deposits of the minerals Voolium, Galdrium and Assetenite 455 have

now been now been mined, processed and stored, sir. Good quantities of aluminas, the

usual, sir, carbon isotopes, etcetera, etcetera, and the residue has been processed…’

‘In the normal way!’ bellowed the Captain to cut short the prattling of his deputy.

Fibuli paused for an uncomfortable breath then continued, proffering a glossy manifest

to the Captain. ‘Here is a list of the minerals, sir.’

The Captain looked over the document with his humanoid eye. Before it could even

focus on the data detailed, his other eye - an infra-red robotic sensor implanted in the me-

tallic left side of his head - had already analysed the information, correlated it and trans-

mitted the relevant data to his computerised brain. He responded to this input by tossing

the manifest aside. ‘Hah! Baubles, baubles, dross and baubles! We must find Vasilium!

We must find Madranite 1-5,’ said the Captain urgently.

‘Well, sir, we have located a new source.’

‘Excellent, excellent.’

‘That’s what caused the delay, Captain. We wanted to be absolutely certain.’ The mo-

mentary relief on Fibuli’s face faded as he voiced a concern. ‘It’s in an unexpected sector -

here, let me show you this chart...’

It was proffered and just as quickly thrown away.

‘We’ll mine it. Make immediate preparations.’

‘Well, there is something rather curious, Captain,’ ventured the first officer. ‘Here is a

detailed description of the sector -’

‘I said we’ll mine it, Mr Fibuli.’

‘But sir -’

‘Make immediate preparations. Now! Or I’ll have your bones bleached.’ The Captain’s

logic circuits regained control of his fiery temper and lowered the volume of his vocal out-

put. ‘Is that clear?’

‘Aye, aye, Captain. Thank you, sir.’ Fibuli saluted ineffectually and turned to consult

with the other technicians on the Bridge about the impending manoeuvre.

The Captain watched him for a moment then regarded his robotic parrot. ‘Who’s a

pretty Polyphase Avitron, then?’ he murmured softly to his mechanical pet. After a pause,

the Captain swiveled the com round to his private console. From here he could speak to all

within the huge structure of the Bridge and also to the citizens of the planet’s major settle-

ments.

The largest settlement lay in the valley below the Bridge’s mountaintop perch, a jumble of

low stone buildings clustered on a wide alluvial plain. Citizens gathered in courtyards to

hear the latest proclamation from their unseen leader as the one-way communications sys-

tem crackled into life.

‘Hear this. Now hear this. This is your Captain speaking.’ After these few stock

phrases to announce his speech, the Captain began in earnest. ‘Citizens prepare yourselves.

Watch for the Omens. I declare a new golden age of prosperity for all. I say again, I de-

clare the dawning of a new golden age of prosperity - watch for the Omens.’

Most of the affluent and well-dressed citizens cheered these words. But in one court-

yard stood a young man whose face had a pallor of death about it. He seemed frightened

by the announcement greeted so eagerly by the others.

‘Under the benevolent leadership of your Captain, a period of unparalleled wealth and

affluence will begin. The mines will once again be full of riches,’ continued the Captain.

‘Richer jewels, finer clothes, food in great abundance. Wealth beyond the dreams of ava-

rice will be yours! Watch for the Omens!’

The message ended leaving most citizens a buzz with excitement. They did not notice

the young man stumbling away, head in hands. Already he could feel the first jabbing

pains, the incredible constriction. He had to get home.

The young man’s pain was unnoticed by those in the courtyard, but others were watching

elsewhere. In a secret underground chamber, a circle of shrouded figures clothed in simple

yellow robes stood silently. All in the darkened group concentrated towards the centre of

the gathering. There the air was alive with a power like lightening of the mind.

One amongst them pulled back his shroud to reveal a pallid face with shrunken eyes.

He looked around the circle and spoke, but his lips did not move, for his words were

thoughts.

‘Watch!’

In the circle’s centre the air shimmered and swirled into a vortex of colour and light.

Within this maelstrom formed a vision globe made from mental energies. The image of the

troubled young man in the courtyard appeared within the globe. The leader looked around

the circle again and spoke through his mind.

‘Are we agreed?’

A mental murmur of assent was the reply.

‘We have found another. The darkness is growing, the time of evil has once more

come. We must prepare.’

The others echoed his thought. They began mustering their might for the ordeal ahead.

Time and Space were colliding.

The two dimensions fought for control in a domain of darkness, where the sparks of

their battle threw fragments of light outwards like shards of broken glass. The clash was as

eternal and infinite as the combatants. The fighting place was the Vortex. Like some cos-

mic melting pot it could hold anything, bend it, age it or suspend it in a moment for eons.

If any entity ever gained control of this majestic whirlpool of wonders, the powers

gained could create salvation or cataclysm forever. Once before - before history or mem-

ory or meaning - this had happened. It was a salvation and cataclysm and everything be-

twixt them, the beginning and an end.

Good and evil, black and white were created then, and guardians created to balance the

duality of the cosmos. And there was a key.

It unlocked the secrets of time and space, power unimaginable to all, mortal or eternal.

But the key was too dangerous to ever be whole so it was splintered into six exactly unlike

segments and these were scattered across forever. There they stayed hidden, only to be re-

constituted when light or darkness threatened to engulf each other again.

Now was such an occasion.

A tall, blue box was suspended in the Vortex, looking for all the eons like a police tele-

phone box from a curious little world called Earth. But appearances are deceiving for

within was bigger than without, the craft being able to transcend dimensions internally.

This quite remarkable ship could sail over time and space, though with an erratic nature

matching the quirks of its keeper.

The tall, roguish box was called the TARDIS, and its tall, roguish keeper was called

the Doctor. The strange being was inside his craft and held in his hands a segment of the

most powerful key in the cosmos.

He was trying unsuccessfully to stuff it into a boot.

The mobile computer called K9 (because of its dog-like appearance), observed the

Doctor’s struggle. Frustrated but now bowed, the man in the baggy tweed trousers, huge

white shirt and brown knee-length greatcoat tried to inject some levity into the situation.

‘There you are K9, the first segment of the Key to Time. Job well done.’

‘Correction, master. A job well done to the extent of 0.167666…’

‘Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.’ Levity recognition was not really part of K9’s programming.

The Doctor abandoned his struggle for a moment to give the crystalline segment a polish

with a yellow dust cloth. ‘The others will be easy - piece of cake.’

‘Piece of cake, master?’ Puns also eluded K9’s programming.

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1 2 1 DOCTOR WHO AND THE PIRATE PLANET Based on the BBC television serial by Douglas Adams DAVID BISHOP A TSV BOOK published by the New Zealand Doctor Who Fan Club 2 A TSV Book Published by the New Zealand Doctor Who Fan Club, 2006 New Zealand Docto...

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