Fivebot: Origins

by TARDIScrash [Reviews - 1]

  • All Ages
  • None
  • Fluff, Humor, Slash

Once upon a time the Master rendered various services to a planet in need. When the services were completed the Master was a mite upset to find that the planet had nothing of what they had promised him in payment. Later that day one of the planet’s representatives interrupted the Master as he worked on reversing the polarity of the seismic stabilisers that he had implemented early that morning. The man managed to make his proposal fast enough that before being reduced to a new inconvenient travel size he sparked the Master’s interest enough to make him stop and seek out who had sent him with the offer.

Some time that evening the Master stood in a lab, a box full of various impressive bits of stuff hastily pulled out of things cradled in his arms. The box was of less interest than the chamber in front of him. Scientists flapped around him nervously, always watching him fearfully out of the corner of their eyes. He would have enjoyed this immensely were he not so focused on the matter at hand. One of the scientists mumbled at the Master while looking down at a data pad. “All of the neromemetic scans are complete. The reproduction should be perfect to your recollection, sir.”

The Master nodded his approval and grinned menacingly. It’s nothing he ever considered acquiring, but it was certainly a scintillating opportunity if what was promised was anything close to what would be delivered. A robot constructed exactly to his specification and programmed to be willing and eager please him in any way he ordered. It would make for an exquisite diversion.

With little warning, the door of the chamber slid open. Clouds of green and white smoke billowed out into to the room. The Master stood transfixed as the form in the chamber was revealed, a perfect image of the Doctor. From blond hair and pale lips to cricket jumper to white trainers -- not a flaw could be found.

Eyes blinked open, bright and blue and the replica grinned wide as anything and came bursting out of the chamber, cords snapping free and trailing behind him as he leaped at the Master. The box hit the floor in a clatter and the Master held the replica gingerly, a distant look on his face. He turned to the closet lab coat at hand. “Do they normally behave so exuberantly?”

The man pretended to be extremely interested in some fascinating entry on his data pad in order to avoid making eye contact with the Time Lord. “Behavioural patterns are consistent with the data from the scans, sir.” The replica nuzzled the Master’s neck. The Master couldn’t help but notice that the robot was far closer to his own height than the Doctor’s.

“I love you! Do you have jam?”

The Master looked at the technician, who went a bit pale under the stare.

“His programme is mostly dedicated to physical tasks; the personality subroutines are simply in place to enhance the experience.”

“You’re my Master. I love you. Can we go home?”

The Master’s glare softened and he turned to the creature in his arms. He looked the replica in the eye. It blinked and smiled vacantly at him. “It will suffice. You may consider our contract fulfilled.”

“Sir, if I may, there are still some additions to his programme that need to be installed. At the moment, he lacks any of his main programming.”

“Sloppy procedure, certainly you could have completed him before his release.”

“Ah, um, yes, of course, sir. But this is so the customer can select the specific sexual behaviours that they wish the replica to exhibit. It’s not included in the initial permanent programming, so it can be adjusted in the future should the customer’s preference change. We like to make certain that he is functional and to specification before continuing; we would not want a customer to be unsatisfied with the final product.”

“Ah, understandable, I suppose, you do what you must to make up for your inferiority. Very wise.”

“Would you like to select your preferences at the terminal? You will have to give us a moment to reconnect it.”

The replica of the Doctor clung tighter to the Master. The Master shifted in the embrace and paused a moment. The implication of what the technician said sank in in full: the replica of the Doctor would be a complete innocent. The Master’s head swam at the thought. The Doctor trembling wordless beneath him as he educated him in everything his body was capable of, crying out for more of what only he could give him.

“No, that will not be necessary. I am more that capable of doing such simple adjustment on my own.”

“Of course, sir, only, it is recommended that we...”

“Are you questioning my technical capabilities, if so I could certainly arrange a demonstration that would provide impact enough that you would never question it again.”

“No! Sir, that is not necessary.”

“Good. You will bring any necessary equipment for care and maintenance of the replica and the rest of my compensation to my ship. Pray to whatever deity your culture has constructed that you never see me again.“

Some time later after the equipment had been loaded on to the TARDIS, the Master and the copy of the Doctor were alone. The Master pushed him into the TARDIS and secured the door behind them. The replica stumbled awkwardly but righted himself and beamed another wide smile at the Master. The Master swept over to the console and took them in to the vortex before turning to the fair creature that was now in his possession. He leered menacingly at the image of the Doctor. “You’re mine Doctor, there is no escape for you. You belong to me now, you’ll never leave this place.”

“This is a TARDIS. Mine is blue and rubbish.”

“Yes. Quite.”

The replica smiled and tilted its head.

“Perhaps I should finish your programming first.”

“Okay, I like being programmed.” The bright innocent smile didn’t falter for a moment.

As much as the Master would have liked to slip right in to an indulgent fantasy, the replica of the Doctor, as he was, wouldn’t suffice. “Come along.” The Master led to his lab an the replica trotted along after him.

In the lab some hours later, the Master sat looking over the programmes that came with the replica: nothing that he would call impressive. Corny stock lines pulled from human romance novels, an array of positions and techniques and parameters for appropriate amounts of pressure and suction to apply. Custom responses to verbal and physical cues could be programmed but there was little in the way of spontaneity. The robot sat on a table swinging his feet and humming to himself.

The Master shut off the screen; it would have to do for now. He tapped at the controls for a moment and then walked over to the replica. Wordlessly the Master laid it back on the table with a strong hand on it’s shoulder. It complied automatically. The Doctor’s face blinked up at him and he asked in the smallest and gentlest voice the Master had ever in his many years heard spoken to him, “Are you going to kiss me?”

The Master looked down. The Doctor’s face looked back at him, all simpleness and confusion. Not an ounce of wilfulness or teasing in his voice. Not a hint of a smirk on his lips. Nothing challenging or brilliant behind his deep blue eyes. He sighed.

“No. Now lie still. I have to run some scans.”

“Yes, Master.” The replica closed it’s eyes and the Master set to work hooking up cords and stringing them between the robot and a computer interface.

The Master worked in silence for hours, his next bid for conquest on hold until he could work out how to get some use out for this thing in his possession. It’s capacity was hopelessly limited, yet the system was unique. Under the right conditions the Master theorised there might be some sort of potential for growth, he had managed a little bit of headway just in establishing a link between the replica and the TARDIS and letting her update where she was able to from data on more advanced models. It was an interesting project for the moment if nothing else.

Still, he couldn’t help but feel a little foolish. His hope had been to acquire some of the sempiternal crystals, curial in his next planed attempt on the universe, that formed in the deep caves of the planet he had just aided. Only after the completion of the work when the time came for the priest of the planet to call off the psychic projections that guarded the caves and repelled his TARDIS’s attempts to land there, the representatives of the planet where forced to confess that the crystals where in fact only a legend.

Now he sat with nothing to show for his work but a useless sextoy turned science project. He had half a mind to return to a moment after he had left and turning the planet into a burnt cinder spinning round in space. Instead he turned back to the replica and snapped suddenly at it, “Do you have a designation?”

“I’m the Doctor!” It sat up and smiled, clearly pleased with itself that it had an answer, but pouted when he saw the look on the Master's face.

“You are not the Doctor.” His tone was low and dangerous, this thing was almost certainly a waste of time, it would be best to simply shut it down and strip it for parts. It wasn’t the Doctor and it would never be the Doctor no matter how much he managed to expand it.

“I’m not?” The replica tilled it’s head, deeply confused. The Master took a few steps towards it, glaring in anger at it’s presumption.

“No. You are not. The Doctor is unique in the universe. He is brilliant and cunning, no one can compare to him. I have travelled through out time and space, challenged and bested those who claimed to be the most gifted minds of their times. They proved to be nothing but children to him. He is the only creature to approach the status of being my equal. The only being worthy of ruling the universe at my side.”

“He sounds amazing! Can I meet him?” the replica asked, eyes wide and obviously very impressed.

The response caught the Master off guard. He was unsure what he had expected but he was certain it wasn’t that. The replicas smile seemed some how less vacant and more hopeful to him in that moment. He didn’t attempt to answer but, with less displeasure, asked, “Do you have any other means of identifying yourself?”

“My serial number is 56994382-6,” it answered bit more tentatively, hoping this time he would be correct.

The Master looked him over and considered. He pushed a section of blond fringe that had fallen in it’s eyes back in to place. “That’s far too unwieldy. I will address you as Five from now on.”

“I like that!” Five smiled. “I’m Five and you are my Master.”

“I am the Master,” he corrected.

“Master!” Five threw his arms around him and nuzzled his head into the Master’s shoulder.

“Close enough.” The Master allowed a small smile and petted his hair.