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DOCTOR WHO
MEGLOS

Written by
John Flanagan and Andrew McCulloch

Part One

[INT. TARDIS console room]

(The DOCTOR and ROMANA are standing over K9. His side panel is flipped open, and the DOCTOR is making some repairs.)
DOCTOR: We're ready. You'd better stop the TARDIS. We don't want any nasty jolts. (she heads to the console to attend to this) Prion, did you say?
ROMANA: We're in the Prion planetary system. We'd better land.
DOCTOR: No, no. Hovering will do.
ROMANA: There's a planet called Tigella.
DOCTOR: Tigella?
ROMANA: Mm.
DOCTOR: Never heard of it.
ROMANA: Well, there's one called Zolfa-Thura. That's in the history books.
DOCTOR: Well, we're all in somebody's history books.
ROMANA: A great civilisation blown away to sand and ashes.
DOCTOR: Oh, yes.
ROMANA: Now all that's left is the screens.
DOCTOR: Why? What screens?
ROMANA: The Screens of Zolfa-Thura.
DOCTOR: Oh. Oh, those screens. Well, of course, I've been to Tigella. Did you say Tigella?
ROMANA: That's right.
DOCTOR: I've been there.
ROMANA: When?
DOCTOR: Ooh, well, a long time ago. Nice chap called Zastor showed me around. Yes. Remind me to get in touch with him sometime. In fact, I'll do it right now.
ROMANA: No, no. Please, please, can we just do one thing at a time?
DOCTOR: First things first?
ROMANA: Exactly.
DOCTOR: But not necessarily in that order. Tigella. Zastor.

[INT. Walkway]

(The lights are flickering as a man runs in with a lance-type tool and hands it to a woman as another man looks on. All three have almost bowl-cut blond hair and white padded outfits with black edging. The woman begins using the tool along a vertical path.)
CARIS: It's going to blow!
(She stops working and runs out of the way of the impending explosion, which catches the man who didn't move. He cries out, and alarms begin to sound.)
CARIS: Emergency! Emergency!

[INT. Central Control]

(A blond hands a blonde a diagnostic device.)
DEEDRIX: And quickly.
(The WOMAN runs out of the room, while the man, DEEDRIX, runs to a desk and sits.)
FEMALE VOICE [OC]: Burnout on one four nine. Medical and lighting assistance immediately.
DEEDRIX: (into the communications system) Medical detail dispatched.
MAN [OC]: Air-purification unit 1 malfunctioning.
(An older mostly blond man, wearing a purple hooded robe with dark-purple rather than black sash enters.)
DEEDRIX: Open up air vents 3 to 8 in unit 1. Zastor. (He stands.)
ZASTOR: This is no time for formality. (he gently presses DEEDRIX back into the seat) Please continue.
ANOTHER MAN [OC]: Irrigation levels holding steady.
DEEDRIX: Thank you. Clearing.
ZASTOR: Well, how bad is it, Deedrix?
DEEDRIX: We can't control it much longer.
ZASTOR: So much for science.
DEEDRIX: Without a detailed investigation, there's nothing science can do.
ZASTOR: Believe me, I understand.
DEEDRIX: I've always argued-
ZASTOR: That's certainly true.
DEEDRIX: For thousands of years, our lives have been dominated by a mystery. The Dodecahedron belongs to all of us, not just the Deons.
ZASTOR: Their religion deserves respect.
DEEDRIX: Religion. Control to walkway 9.

[INT. Walkway 9]

(This is where we were before, where the INJURED MAN is receiving eye treatment.)
DEEDRIX [OC]: Update on the burnout, please.
CARIS: (as the INJURED MAN is ushered away) I'm replacing the transformer. There'll be no power in here for the next three hours. (to her companion) Now will they believe us?

[INT. Central Control]

DEEDRIX: Thank you, Caris. Understood. All this rather proves her point.
ZASTOR: How can we re-inhabit the surface? It would take years of preparation.
DEEDRIX: Decades, more likely. There are better ways, but at least she has a rational plan.
ZASTOR: Which the Deons have declared a blasphemy.
DEEDRIX: You could overrule them.
ZASTOR: How long would I remain leader if I were to?
DEEDRIX: And Tigella? Zastor, I tell you as a savant, a scientist, one who works hard to understand these things, that our safe and bountiful city may well be on the edge of total extinction.

[INT. Temple]

(The temple is filled with magenta-robed figures in hoods. One is kneeling. A helmeted man in black enters and, at the gesture of a priestess with long hair streaming from an elaborate headdress, approaches her and whispers something.)
LEXA: No. Zastor is our leader, but he cannot lead us into sacrilege. (making to leave) Resume the Concurrence. I shall explain this yet again to Zastor.
(She leaves with the man.)

[INT. Walkway]

ZASTOR: I understand your anger, Lexa.
LEXA: The power is angrier than we are.
ZASTOR: But at the moment seems to be a little more controlled. So perhaps should we be. The savants are trying to help, or so they believe.
LEXA: Believe? A word too large for their small minds. (as they head down a spiral staircase) They're children. Wilful, ignorant, and lost.
ZASTOR: As we all will be, savants and Deons alike, if the power fails us. (He takes her by the hand.)
LEXA: Why are we going to the debating chamber? This is hardly a matter for compromise.
ZASTOR: I'm an old man, Lexa, with less faith perhaps than you, but I think you trust my judgement.
LEXA: Yes.
ZASTOR: They have some proposals. They will not touch the Dodecahedron.
LEXA: They cannot enter the power room.
(She is shaken by a rumble in the distance and glances about.)
ZASTOR: Some measurements, a few calculations.
LEXA: Oh, not even you, Zastor, can revoke the ancient laws.
(They are met by DEEDRIX.)
DEEDRIX: And your Concurrence, Lexa, can't revoke the laws of physics.
ZASTOR: Deedrix, Lexa, we must behave like leaders.
DEEDRIX: Then lead us by example, Zastor. Make a decision!
ZASTOR: I cannot interfere. (DEEDRIX crosses his arms) I was afraid it would come to this. (to a GUARD) Yes, please, ask him to come.
LEXA: Ask? Who?
DEEDRIX: Some new procrastination, Zastor?
ZASTOR: Some fifty years ago, I knew a man that solved the insoluble by the strangest means. He sees the threads that join the universe together and mends them when they break.
DEEDRIX: A savant, or one of her madmen?
ZASTOR: A little of each and a great deal more of something else. He's nearby and asking to visit us.
DEEDRIX: What, you sent for an alien?
LEXA: Why?
ZASTOR: You'll know when you see him. This probably needs his delicacy of touch.

[INT. TARDIS console room]

DOCTOR: He'd better not go in the sea in future. He's likely to get into deep water.
ROMANA: It was hardly his fault that someone neglected to sea-proof him.
DOCTOR: Quite. Can you remember where I left his manual?
ROMANA: Yes, of course.
(She fetches it from under the coat stand.)
ROMANA: Oh, I hope he's going to be all right. We're going to need him on Tigella.
DOCTOR: Why? They're not hostile.
ROMANA: The plants are. Lush, aggressive vegetation.
DOCTOR: You mustn't believe everything you read in books.
ROMANA: It says in the history books that it was the 'lush, aggressive vegetation' that forced the Tigellans to retreat beneath the surface. Well, you must have seen it last time you were there.
DOCTOR: It was reasonably friendly to me. Mind you, it was a long time ago.
ROMANA: (finding the section of the manual she was looking for) Post-repair test questions.
DOCTOR: (taking the manual, then clearing his throat dramatically) Post-repair test questions. K9, can you hear me?
K9: Affirmative, Mistress.
DOCTOR: That's a promising start.

[INT. Debating chamber]

(There is much shouting.)
ZASTOR: (rising) Silence! Savants, Deons, remember the dignity of your high office. Have we been elected to squabble? If we cannot agree, we will at least have order. (He sits again.)
DEEDRIX: I've said all I have to say. I am needed back in the control room. (He stands.)
LEXA: No! The Savants should be arrested for heresy.
DEEDRIX: And crushed to death, no doubt.
ZASTOR: Please, you will not mock the Deon laws.
DEEDRIX: Well, how can there be any respect for a creed that practises primitive sacrifice? Are you making sacrifices now in the name of your monstrous myth?
ZASTOR: Please, Deedrix, remember where you are.
DEEDRIX: No! This should be said before all Tigella. The Dodecahedron is no god! It is an artefact, engineered!
LEXA: It descended from the heavens!
DEEDRIX: Not the heavens. From somewhere, anywhere, but not the heavens.
LEXA: Then where?

[EXT. Zolfa-Thura]

(Tigella is visible in the skies overhead. On the dusts below, there are five large pentagons facing each other. A spaceship has landed near them. Its hatch opens, and toward the pentagons step a motley crew, led by a man with a slightly Cossack flair about his clothing. One of the group wears a normal black suit.)
GRUGGER: Well?
BROTADAC: Sand. Nothing but sand, the whole planet!
GRUGGER: Except for those.
BROTADAC: 'Bring an Earthling to the screens of Zolfa-Thura.' I never liked this job.
GRUGGER: Male Caucasian around two metres tall.
BROTADAC: Right, we've delivered him. So who pays us?
GRUGGER: Shut up. (the man in the suit makes a few feeble sounds) He's trying to say something.
BROTADAC: It could be a trap. What does he know, anyway?
EARTHLING: Nothing. I don't know anything. What have I done?
GRUGGER: Nobody knows anything.
EARTHLING: Why? Why me?
GRUGGER: Why any of us? Do you think I do this through choice? Oh, give him another one.
(BROTADAC uses a hypospray on the frightened Earth man's neck. He goes quite calm.)
GRUGGER: The message was genuine. We'll wait.
BROTADAC: Genuine? We don't even know who sent it. Let's kill him and go.
GRUGGER: Let's think, for a change. Now, why would you send across the galaxy for a thing like that?
(The ground trembles, and we see the area at the centre of the set of screens slowly rise, in the form of a five-sided complex. A door slides up, and GRUGGER steps toward it.)
BROTADAC: Stop! It must be a trap.
GRUGGER: Shut up and follow me.
(They all enter.)

[INT. Laboratory]

(They are inside a white room with gleaming control panels and a large cactus near the middle of the room. BROTADAC stuffs a piece of equipment into his pocket.)
MEGLOS [OC]: (a slightly crackly, synthesised-sounding voice) Arrival noted, gentlemen. Welcome. Don't be afraid.
GRUGGER: Huh. Who do you think you're talking to?
MEGLOS [OC]: General Grugger, Lieutenant Brotadac, I presume, together with their band of fortune-hunters. There should also be an Earthling somewhere.
GRUGGER: (gesturing for the man in the suit to be brought inside) You. What are you?
MEGLOS [OC]: Ah, forgive me. Most remiss. I am Meglos, only survivor of this planet.
(They work out that the cactus is speaking to them.)
MEGLOS [OC]: Well observed, General Grugger. I am the plant - a xerophyte, to be precise. Ah! Ah, you've served me well, General Grugger, I now have a real proposition for you.

[INT. Debating chamber]

(Everyone is now standing and shouting.)
ZASTOR: This chamber will yield to my authority!
DEEDRIX: You've lost it, delegated it to these aliens.
LEXA: A Time Lord! A non-believer. Why should we trust him?
ZASTOR: The Doctor's good faith is beyond question.
DEEDRIX: Faith! That word again. What we need is knowledge!
ZASTOR: He brings that too.
DEEDRIX: We have it here if you will allow us to use it.
LEXA: Oh, squabbles go round and round. Nothing is decided here. I shall seek guidance from the Power itself.
CARIS: I have something to say to this chamber.
LEXA: No.
ZASTOR: Caris has risked her life to save this city. I wish to hear her.
CARIS: Well, even if we manage to restore the power, or, as the Deons would say, if th power condescends to restore itself, the food stocks will be destroyed. We will have to ascend to the surface.

[INT. Laboratory]

BROTADAC: It's a waste of time. Let's get our payment and go.
MEGLOS [OC]: You Gaztaks pillage the galaxy. There are a thousand small marauding bands like yours. And what's it all for?
BROTADAC: Loot!
MEGLOS [OC]: A motley collection of trophies. How long did it take you to accumulate?
BROTADAC: Done it all our lives.
MEGLOS [OC]: Pah! And you accuse me of wasting your time.
GRUGGER: What you're asking us to do is impossible.
MEGLOS [OC]: Impossible, or simply beyond your comprehension?
BROTADAC: There's only one way into that city.
GRUGGER: And they guard that Dodecahedron with their lives. To them, it's a god.
BROTADAC: They say the thing's dangerous to touch.
MEGLOS [OC]: Really, gentlemen, I have considered the hazards. But your timidity worries me. You're not interested in the real power. So, if Lieutenant Brotadac will return my redimensioner, we will conclude our business.
GRUGGER: What?
MEGLOS [OC]: The redimensioner you removed from my desk.
GRUGGER: Oh, you fool. What do you know about mass-conversion mechanics?
(BROTADAC puts the piece of equipment back.)
GRUGGER: I want to know a lot more about all this.

[INT. TARDIS console room]

DOCTOR: Bit of a nuisance if we have to reprogram all his constants.
ROMANA: I'm more worried about the power depletion. At this rate, he's going to need recharging every two hours.
DOCTOR: That's not a problem. I happen to be an expert in power sources.
ROMANA: Tigella won't take long, then.
DOCTOR: No, no, no. A quick flight, a quick service.
ROMANA: What is the energy process, baryon multiplication?
DOCTOR: Erm, er, yes. Yes, something like that, yes. They didn't actually let me see it last time. Religious objections.

[INT. Laboratory]

GRUGGER: The Dodecahedron was made here on Zolfa-Thura?
MEGLOS [OC]: Of course. The Tigellans are using only a fraction of its potential.
GRUGGER: A fraction?! It powers their entire planet.
MEGLOS [OC]: Precisely. A mere fraction. The verdant fluctuations are part of its inbuilt programming. In restart mode, its present output will be raised to the power of twelve. Its energy could feed an entire galaxy.
GRUGGER: That's impossible.
MEGLOS [OC]: Within your limited frame of reference, yes. Now, if you will be so kind as to proceed.
(The group lead the EARTHLING to the far side of the room. The cactus is positioned next to him. GRUGGER stands at a control desk.)
MEGLOS [OC]: General Grugger, have I explained the procedure sufficiently?
GRUGGER: Yes, it's all right. It's this lever first, and then that one to start the process.
MEGLOS [OC]: Excellent. Then let it commence.
GRUGGER: Oh, we'll definitely let it commence.
(The EARTHLING and MEGLOS slide into sections of the wall, and glass-type partitions lower in front of them.)
BROTADAC: This is the switch, is it?
GRUGGER: Don't touch these controls, Brotadac.
BROTADAC: Come on. He looks ready to me.
GRUGGER: Yes, he does, doesn't he?
BROTADAC: Well, what's the hang-up? I want to get off of this planet.
GRUGGER: Get the others. So do I, but it would be a pity to leave all this.
BROTADAC: You got a plan?
GRUGGER: We can take that, and that, and that. How much will all that be worth in Pallagos?
BROTADAC: Fifty million credits?
GRUGGER: Oh, that's very nice.
BROTADAC: We struck lucky.
GRUGGER: Lucky? Brains, Brotadac, brains. I think the four of us could dismantle that.
BROTADAC: We could break that one up.
GRUGGER: No, no, that's a nice piece.
BROTADAC: I'll go and get the others.
GRUGGER: I've already sent for them. Why aren't they here? Go and see what's happened to them.
(BROTADAC grunts in acknowledgement and heads for the door. It refuses to open.)
BROTADAC: It's stuck!
GRUGGER: Well, open it.
BROTADAC: But it won't open.
GRUGGER: What do you mean it won't open? (trying it himself) It won't open.
BROTADAC: It opened all right when we come in. Automatically.
MEGLOS [OC]: Correct, gentlemen. Automatically.
GRUGGER: He's trapped us.
BROTADAC: Didn't trust us.
MEGLOS [OC]: Oh, nothing so petty. I knew that, as, what shall we say, ardent pragmatists, you would feel bound to attempt some variation of our arrangement. I wanted it to come sooner rather than later. I know you and your kind so well, and if we are to co-operate, I want you to know me.
GRUGGER: I see. Well, that's all right.
MEGLOS [OC]: Well, gentlemen, shall we all descend together into the earth for another thousand years, or shall we resume our original arrangements?
GRUGGER: Well, I'm prepared to forget that little incident.
MEGLOS [OC]: Oh, I hope not.
BROTADAC: We'll remember.
MEGLOS [OC]: Good. Now, the second button, please.
(GRUGGER takes care of this, causing pulses of energy to pass down through the two chambers. The EARTHLING convulses slightly, and the cactus slowly collapses in on itself.)
BROTADAC: I don't believe it!
(We see the EARTHLING now, with greenish spiny skin. The partitions rise, and the composite creature steps toward the space pirates.)
MEGLOS: Thank you, General Grugger. Now we must work quickly. I've intercepted a Tigellan message. They've sent for a travelling Time Lord.
(He pulls up the Doctor's face on a monitor, along with the words 'KNOWN AS THE DOCTOR
DATEB OF ORIGIN: APPROX PRION YEAR ...'.)
MEGLOS: Whose travels I must interrupt. Now, where is he, and when?
(He reaches up and touches his face, as the others stand gobsmacked.)

[INT. TARDIS console room]

ROMANA: Where did you put the magnetic tweezers?
DOCTOR: In a cave. A sort of shrine.
ROMANA: Where?
DOCTOR: In Tigella. What?
ROMANA: Magnetic tweezers?
DOCTOR: Oh, yes. (He hands them over.)
ROMANA: Thanks. I think I've almost done it.
DOCTOR: Mind you, it's hardly surprising they're in awe of the thing. After all, their whole way of life depends on it.
(Her work doesn't go well - fzzt!)
ROMANA: Oh blast, here we go again.
(Crossing the room as he turns, the DOCTOR stumbles, causing ROMANA to giggle.)
DOCTOR: What's the matter?
ROMANA: Well, now his probe circuit's jammed.
DOCTOR: Well, that's easy. Just waggle his tail.
ROMANA: All right. We've tried everything else.
(She does so, and K9 whirrs to life.)
K9: Thank you, Mistress. Repairs complete.
DOCTOR: Well done, Romana. Well done. You're becoming very accomplished at all this.
ROMANA: Becoming? I was fully qualified when I arrived.
DOCTOR: Shhh, shhh, shhh. (sotto from next to the scanner) K9, what do you know about the Prion planetary system?
K9: The only viable civilisation was Zolfa-Thura. They destroyed themselves in global war. Planet now featureless desert.
ROMANA: Good boy, K9. (She pats him.)
DOCTOR: So now Tigella's all that's left.
K9: Affirmative.
(Fzzt.)
ROMANA: Oh blast, here we go again.
(Crossing the room, the DOCTOR trips, causing ROMANA to giggle.)
DOCTOR: What's the matter?
ROMANA: Well, now his probe circuit's jammed.
DOCTOR: Well, that's easy. Just waggle his tail.
ROMANA: All right. We've tried everything else.
K9: Thank you, Mistress. Repairs complete.
(The two look at each other, worried and spooked.)

[INT. Laboratory]

(The scene in the TARDIS is playing on the laboratory's monitor.)
MEGLOS: Flies trapped in amber. Not even the Doctor can escape a chronic hysteretic loop.
GRUGGER: A what?
MEGLOS: I've caught him inside a fold of time.
GRUGGER: Hah. Ha-ha, good.
MEGLOS: His only respite is the short period when he loops back to the start. Round and round, for all eternity.

[INT. TARDIS console room]

(Fzzt.)
ROMANA: Oh blast, here we go again.
(The DOCTOR trips, and ROMANA giggles.)
DOCTOR: What's the matter?
ROMANA: Well, now his probe circuit's jammed.
DOCTOR: Well, that's easy. Just waggle his tail.
ROMANA: All right. We've tried everything else.
K9: Thank you, Mistress. Repairs complete.
DOCTOR: That's the third time. What's happening?
ROMANA: The TARDIS appears to be functioning normally.
DOCTOR: Yes. Then what? Repeated time cycles? Oh, no. It couldn't be a chronic hysteresis, could it?
ROMANA: Chronic hysteresis? (gulps) I hope not. If it is, we'll be stuck here forever.
DOCTOR: Yes.
(Fzzt.)
ROMANA: Oh blast, here we go again.
(The DOCTOR trips.)

[INT. Laboratory]

BROTADAC: This Meglos can bend time.
GRUGGER: Right, in a loop.
BROTADAC: I've never heard of that, have you?
GRUGGER: It doesn't matter how it's done. The point is the Doctor doesn't get to Tigella.
MEGLOS: Oh, but he does, gentlemen. He does.
(He has pressed some buttons, and he now speaks like a crackly version of the Doctor and looks like him in full.)
MEGLOS: (in the Doctor's voice) We mustn't disappoint the Tigellans.

The above notes, transcription, etc. by Anna Shefl

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