CHAPTER SIX

OVER A BARREL

Waves lapped against the shore of a tranquil, sandy beach. Palm trees swayed
gently in the breeze. Gulls squawked as they glided over the rocky shore in the distance,
silhouetted by the sun as it sank lower in the sky on the horizon.
The Second Dr. stood in the sand and raised a hand to shield his eyes as he
looked at the giant structure before him. The First incarnation of The Manager stood next
to him, a stern look on his face.
‘What sort of childish nonsense is this?’ He said dryly with a scoff. ‘I thought these were
supposed to be challenges. Trials meant to test us to our limits!’
The Second Dr. smirked. ‘Are you actually complaining that this isn’t hard
enough?’
‘I’m complaining that your halfwit incarnation challenged me and mine to a battle of wits,
cunning and strength … this is a … … …’
‘Kids game?’ The Second Dr. prompted.
‘Exactly!’ The First Manager sneered.
‘You know what Raljex is like,’ The Dr. shrugged. ‘Keeping us on our toes.’
‘My posture is perfect, thankyou very much,’ The Manager snapped. ‘As is my readiness
and …’
The Dr. had started to walk off down the beach, ignoring the Manager’s continuing
rant. He hummed a tune to himself and swiped his fringe out of his eyes. He really
needed a haircut, he told himself and made a mental note to book himself in for one
when he got back … if he got back.
He strode towards the structure that towered over him and rested his hand
against the wooden surface. He knew this game well and didn’t need the instructions
that had been scrawled on a wooden sign in the sand.
‘Well, this looks complicated.’
The Dr. smiled to himself as a figure strode around from the other side of the giant
barrel and leaned against it casually. The creature rubbed it’s ginger beard with a green
hand and clucked through it’s canine-esque muzzle.
‘Alright, Freaka-chu,’ The Second Dr. nodded, shaking hands warmly with the cursed
Venchamon. ‘Long time, no-see.’
‘Who’s fault is that?’ Freaka-chu replied with a smile and clapped the Dr. on the
shoulder. ‘Good to see you again, didn’t think I’d ever get the chance.’
‘Well, y’know how it goes mate,’ The Dr. shrugged. ‘Way of the Universe isn’t it? Six
degrees of separation an’ all that stuff,’ The Dr. sniffed loudly and began to pace around
the giant barrel, taking long strides with his long, bandy legs.
‘Doesn’t take a genius to work it out,’ Freaka-chu commented, folding his arms and
tapping one of the large swords that lay in a heap at the foot of the barrel with the large
furry end of his tail. ‘We even had this game when I was a kid … and that’s saying
something.’
‘Nah, not really,’ The Dr. remarked. ‘Given that your home of Middle-Ton’s thousands of
years in the future after mankind’s finished destroying itself a few times over and
reverting back to the Dark Ages … stuff’s bound to survive, even thins like this.’
‘It’s a little bigger than I remember,’ Freaka-chu observed.
‘Bound to be,’ The Dr. said, giving the wood another tap with his knuckles. ‘This isn’t
some poxy half-rate play-time, this is serious, lives-on-the-line shit this is.’
‘Sounds fun,’ Freaka-chu mused. ‘It is good to see you again,’ he smiled as he fondly
remembered the last time he had seen this version of The Dr.
He was worried. He didn’t say it, but he was slightly worried. The Fifth Dr. had
said that those assisting any of The Dr.’s in the trials risked being obliterated if they lost
in the endgame. As far as he knew, Freaka-chu couldn’t die. It was all part-and-parcel of
his curse. Though now, he wasn’t so sure. He was fairly certain that the power of
somebody with enough gaul and might to claim themselves as being The Supreme Being
would have more sway than a bucket-load of dark magic.
He really hoped that he was wrong. But this task seemed simple enough.
‘I’m going to have to strongly complain,’ The First Manager said as he finally joined the
pair at the base of the giant barrel that towered over them.
‘You always were so masterful and commanding,’ A plump woman with a large bouffant
hair-do in a large renaissance dress said as she emerged from the other side of the
barrel, parasol clasped in her hands.
‘Oh bloody hell,’ The Dr. said in disbelief. ‘Look what the cat dragged in and kicked
around for a few hours.’
The Manager shot him a menacing glare. ‘Have some respect!’ He spat. ‘You are
addressing my wife!’
‘His wife?’ Freaka-chu grimaced.
‘Yeah,’ The Dr. said, folding his arms. ‘Ranette … but everybody calls her The Rancid.’
‘Huh,’ Freaka-chu mused sarcastically. ‘Can’t possibly think why.’
‘Doesn’t matter,’ The Dr. whispered. ‘He kills her in the end. In his Tenth incarnation. I
don’t think he ever really loved her at all.’
‘Well,’ Freaka-chu shrugged at The Rancid’s wide girth and several chins. ‘Do you blame
him?’
‘Yarrrrr! Enough of yer foolish banter!’
The four of them looked skywards where a face was leering at them. A scruffy
pirate regarded them all with his one eye and scowled down at the group. ‘Are ye going to
stand here a’talkin’ all day? Or are we’s going ter play a game?’
‘I haven’t the slightest idea what we’re supposed to do,’ The Manager said testily as he
read the sign with the instructions on it.
‘Allow me to demonstrate,’ Freaka-chu said, taking hold of one of the large swords and
stabbing it into one of the many pre-made holes in the barrel. Nothing happened. ‘Your
turn,’ he said airily.
‘And what does that achieve?’ Ranette asked coolly.
‘That’s the game,’ The Dr. remarked. ‘Whoever makes the Pirate pop up, looses.’
‘This is simply a matter of chance!’ The Manager exclaimed. ‘There is no skill involved
here!’
‘Well, that’s the game,’ The Dr. shrugged, gesturing to the swords. ‘Like it or lump it.’
‘This is intolerable!’ The Manager shouted. Ranette concurred with furious head-bobs
and fanned herself for all her worth with her giant hand-fan.
‘This is terribly unfair!’ Ranette declared. ‘My husband’s utter superiority counts for
nothing in a game of chance!’
‘I think that’s the point,’ The Dr. said, raising an eyebrow at her.
‘Well, that’s not fair!’ Ranette retorted.
The Dr. and Freaka-chu exchanged dubious glances. ‘You’re saying it’s not fair
that your team doesn’t have an unfair advantage?’ Freaka-chu said, scratching his ginger
beard.
‘It’s absolutely absurd!’ Ranette huffed.
‘Cripes,’ Freaka-chu said out of the side of his mouth into The Dr.’s ear. ‘Ugly and thick,
Nigel’s got quite a catch for himself there.’
The Dr. smiled at the remark but didn’t comment upon it. Instead, he checked his
watch and tapped his foot in the sand. ‘Come on then!’ He tisked at The Manager.
‘Chop-chop, or do you want to be here all day?’
‘Oh, do let us proceed with haste, my love,’ Ranette cooed at her husband as she wilted
in a melodramatic fashion. ‘I grow ever so tired of this blasted heat.’
‘Alright my dear,’ The Manager said, grasping one of the swords and examining the many
holes all around the barrel. ‘I do not wish to hurry, for should I pick the wrong hole, then
this game is lost. I must think about this task logically. There must be a devious
calculatory way of deriving which hole to avoid.’
He studied all of the holes for a long time before finally selecting one. He nodded
and sneered at The Dr. before he turned to his wife. ‘You see, my dear,’ he said loftily as
he raised the sword. ‘All it takes is a little brain power,’ he looked over to The Dr. again.
‘You might try remembering that Dr., I’m sure the thought will keep you occupied in the
depths of oblivion.’
The sword went in with a loud clicking noise. All that came next was the
explosion.

‘Well then,’ Raljex said, nodding briefly as The Second Dr. emerged from the room to
cheers and hurrahs from his other incarnations. ‘I see we have our first victory!’
‘WHAT?!’ The Manager’s fourth incarnation shouted. ‘What do you mean? Victor? That
game was clearly rigged against us! How can we be expected to compete in games of luck
and chance? It’s simply not on!’
‘I agree with myself on this one,’ The Sixth Manager huffed, running a hand through his
slicked-back hair. ‘It is most egregious of you, Supreme One.’
‘Enough,’ Raljex said in a tired voice. ‘You wouldn’t be complaining if you’d won, so
put a lid on it! We’re wasting time, we still have two more games to play in the
zone before we move on,’ Raljex turned to The Second Dr. and presented him with a
small crystal. ‘You’ll be needing this for later,’ he smirked and The Second Dr.
disappeared with a loud pop.
‘Hang on!’ The Fifth Dr. exclaimed. ‘Where’ve you sent him?! He WON!’
‘Of course he won,’ Raljex said simply. ‘Therefore he cannot participate any further.
He has been transported forwards in time to witness the Endgame. Unless of
course, you do not wish for him to deliver his crystal to your final battle?’
‘Shut it, Fifth,’ The Eighth Dr. said, elbowing Fifth in the ribs. ‘I’m the one that’s
supposed to say stupid things.’
‘Come now!’ Raljex boomed. ‘The Dr. was victorious in that last game, so he gets to
choose the next one. What will it be, Dr.? Physical, Mental? Skill or Mystery?’
‘Physical!’ The Fifth Dr. roared, standing forwards.
‘What are you doing?!’ Thirteen shouted, grabbing him by the arm. ‘We didn’t discuss
anything!’
‘No,’ Fifth retorted. ‘There’s too much discussing and not enough action from you lot. I’m
taking matters into my own hands.’
‘Your foolishness will get us all killed!’ The Twelfth Dr. said, standing forward,
brandishing a large sword. ‘By the gods of Betamax, your so very selfish! Think of others!
You bring no honour to yourself!’
Fifth scowled. ‘Take your Karate-Kid bullshit and stick it where the sun don’t
shine,’ he said, shrugging off Thirteen’s grasp and striding up to stand with Raljex.
‘Physical,’ he said again.
‘Physical?’ Raljex nodded in approval. ‘And who shall also play this Physical game
against The Fifth incarnation of The Dr.?’
‘It shall be me,’ A balding incarnation of The Manager with long hair and a tan suit said,
as he stepped up to the raised platform. His beady eyes looked over his hooked nose, the
spurs of his cowboy boots clunking a she walked.
‘Ah, the Tenth Manager,’ Raljex clapped. ‘How very delightful indeed.’
Raljex took out his dice again and threw it on the small table next to him. ‘Three
Assistants each,’ he said, bobbing his head in approval. ‘Excellent! I have the perfect
Physical game for you!’
‘No more of this blind luck business, I hope?’ The Tenth Manager frowned.
‘Of course not,’ Raljex said as though the very idea would be offensive. ‘This game will
take all of your guile and skill to accomplish.’
‘I thought this was a Physical game,’ The Second Manager snorted. ‘We’ve just had a Skill
game.’
‘It was a turn-of-phrase,’ Raljex sighed in irritation. ‘Now, if you keep interrupting me,
I’ll settle this by destroying the lot of you! I’m giving up my free weekend to
preside over this you know!’ The Supreme Being tore open the door to permit them.
‘Good luck now,’ Raljex said as he slammed the door with a cruel chuckle. ‘You’ll be
needing it.’
‘Look at it this way,’ The Eighth Dr. shrugged at his fellows as they approached the
windows to watch the game. ‘At least after this, we’ll be shut of Fifth for a bit.’
‘Let’s hope it’s not forever,’ The Fourth Dr. said solemnly.
But this was good. The Dr. had won the first game. It had been blind luck and it
seemed like one of his best assistants had been wasted on something so trivial. But a
win was a win. One down, twelve to go.