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| Tenth Doctor, Torchwood | |
Valiant by MeiLin [Reviews - 47]  Chapter or Story Author's Notes: A version of this chapter appeared as the story "Hit It, Maestro," but more than half of it is original to this novella. In which the Master gets his kicks, baby. | |
The Master jumped on the bed, bouncing Lucy a foot off the mattress and waking her in the process. "Time for some entertainment! You humans sleep too much!" Lucy complacently pulled the covers off and waited. "No, not that sort of entertainment, my little blonde ape! Real entertainment! We have a whole planet at our disposal. Get dressed. Let's have some fun."
The ship's majordomo stood patiently nearby, clipboard and pen at the ready, back politely turned as Lucy stumbled into her clothes. "Right!" yelped the Master. "Bring in some of that stuff we nicked from the Louvre. Wait, scratch that, can't have nicked it because it's mine. Round up the next musician on the list--oh, and can't forget the chef." The majordomo scribbled.
"Lucy! What are you in the mood for?" Lucy looked at him dumbly. "No, you never did have much of a palate. Hm. Did Gordon Ramsay last week," he murmured, pacing. "That was mildly amusing, Kitchen Nightmare indeed. OH! Nigella! Dinner and dessert in one!" he chortled. Lucy scowled to herself.
When Lucy came into the conference room, she found her husband busy with brushes, painting his own face onto Clouet's portrait of Francois I of France. "Not a bad likeness," he said over his shoulder to the Doctor, who was sitting in his wheelchair with a pained expression on his wrinkled face. "Except for the beard."
"This time, not on your face," said the Doctor almost to himself. The Master ignored him.
Dinner was relatively uneventful. The majordomo had found Nigella Lawson in a work camp near London, cleaned her up as best he could, and set her to work in the kitchen with the staff.
"Hm," said the Master, eyeing the exhausted cook afterwards as Tish served coffee. "Not much left for dessert. Oh well! Get rid of her, I'm sure there's something else sweet around here." He leered at Tish and Lucy ground her teeth.
Lucy gawped as she watched David Bowie fall, end over end towards the ground, tumbling down, his body a quickly shrinking dot on the Valiant's undercarriage monitor feeds. Her husband came bounding into the conference room from the hangar deck.
"Ground control to Major Tom/Your circuit's dead, there's something wrong!" the Master yowled along with the music crashing in from the speakers. "Can you hear me, Major Tom!" He picked Lucy up and swept her around the room. "Can you hear me, Major Tom!" He stopped in front of the monitor wall. "Can you--no, I don't think he can!" as Bowie's figure dropped below the cloud ceiling and finally out of sight.
"Well!" he said, shutting off the music. "That was a let-down!" He bounced around the conference table, taking little dance steps and humming. "I really thought he'd give us at least a set! Pity he said no. Aw, what's the matter, doggie?" he said, stopping in front of the Doctor's kennel. "Did you like Bowie?"
"Actually, yes," the Doctor replied quietly.
"No matter, we've got his greatest hits. The big boxed set."
The Master rubbed his hands together and clapped. "Now! Who shall we have up next? I think we've got quite the collection down there. What are you in the mood for, Luce? Tony Bennett? I think he's still alive. Manu Chao? Now there's an idea, some good dance music. No?"
Lucy sank down onto the conference room steps, staring at the monitors. Sitting in my tin can, far above the world, she thought. Planet Earth is blue and there's nothing I can do.
"I know!" The Master jumped, and so did Lucy. "Yo-Yo Ma! I KNOW I've got him down there! Doesn't need much in the way of gear or take up much room, either, just one bloke with a cello. Yes! A little chamber music. Just the ticket." He skipped out of the conference room calling for the majordomo.
"Planet Earth is blue," sang Lucy softly, "and there's nothing I can do..."
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