Ducking In Time. by Clive May (clive@cj4386.demon.co.uk) A TTR Story. The copyright of Dr Who is the property of the BBC. It is used here without permission. The TTR concept belongs to Tyler. King Arthur in Time and Space and the oblique ref to the Peri Arc Stories belong to Paul Gadzikowski and are used without permission. The Diskworld Death is the property of Terry Pratchett and is used without permission. Francois the Barman is the creation of BKWillis and is, likewise, used without permission. In a silence so profound it pained the ears, and a stillness so rigid it made the muscles ache in sympathy, the riotous merriment in the bar of the TTR raged. The Observer nodded to himself. Slipping from his usual off-duty perch, he plonked onto the chipped and scarred bar top. He moved along the bar, careful to avoid the puddle of Old Janks Spirit, which was enthusiastically dissolving a bar towel. For some reason, strong spirits were temporally transcendent, which not only made them immune to the Observer "Time Stop" dodge, but which also when imbibed in sufficient amounts could transfer this quality to the inbibor, so much so that "just nipping down to the pub for ten minutes could mean an absence of hours and be the wrecking of many a fine Sunday lunch, and..." The vile spirit made a sly ooze for him; but the Observer flopped aside and, reaching the safety of a beer mat, settled himself on the cork disk. He turned his button eyes to observe the main room of the TTR. There was a good crowd of Doctors, companions and cross-over characters in tonight. Excellent! The trawl would be well worth the expenditure of energy necessary to "freeze the instant"; and this time he'd not have to justify it to the Administrator. He did so enjoy these "moments out of time" when he was the only being truly aware. They gave him a peaceful moment to really relax and stretch his legs, at least he would have stretched his legs, had he any legs to stretch. Not for the first time did the Observer wonder if he'd chosen a suitable form for this particular bit of "Outside"? Likewise, if he'd had hands, he would have rubbed them together in satisfaction. Not having either, he contented himself with running a critical eye over the crowded bar - and planning his coup. The King Arthur In Time And Space crew had commandeered a whole section to themselves. They were busy laughing, talking and generally making merry. A distinctly "emotional" Guinevere was slouched across the lap of an uncomfortable looking Lancelot while Arthur looked on, rigid with more than the Time Stop. When the Observer started time again, there was going to be trouble from that quarter. At Arthur's side, a slightly "out of focus" Space Merlin was watching the Observer with a puzzled frown, as though aware of something at the edge of his perception; but couldn't for the life of him decide exactly what? The Observer shuddered. He found those patrons, who were not entirely governed by time, more than a little disconcerting. They were never quite "there" or stayed in sharp focus when he held the instant; and the eyes always seem to follow him while he went about his business of gathering - no matter that their owners ought to have been completely frozen in the instant. Front and centre: all the Doctors were crowded at a single table with Peri, not a one of them quite entirely there. They sat, posed in the act of partying, like a "slightly out of focus" group photograph. Although their features were fuzzy, the expressions of bewilderment showed clearly through the haze of dis-phased time. Off to the right was a little tableau, promising a grisly outcome. Adric was posed in the act of ducking a broadsword. The ungainly weapon was being swung with vigour by the petite Trakenite. The razor edged blade was time-stopped inches from his neck. The expression of horrific resignation on his face touched a cord deep inside the Observer. Oh Dear! He Really, Really shouldn't! It was strictly forbidden to interfere, and all sorts of nonsense like that. But...Well...The boy deserved a break. He released the instant for Adric alone, and watched as the boy continued his previously doomed duck under the sword. He let time run forward, until the boy's head was well under the arc; and then he re-froze the instant. In a shadowy corner, a six foot skeleton, wrapped in midnight, set aside a scythe. He took out a clipboard. Making an amendment, he tucked an egg timer out of sight, and brought out another from the folds of his cloak. He grinned at the Observer- as only a skull can grin. Feeling very pleased with himself, the Observer set about his business. At his command, the beer mat floated into the air and began a leisurely tour about the bar,while he made the required recordings for the Great Podal Sheath Archive. Floating into a corner booth, he got a very nasty surprise. Damn! Just his luck...SHE would have to be in tonight. Those things always gave him the willies. They embodied the essence of those aggravating visitors to the Great Podal Sheath Archive, who wandered the shelves with no respect whatsoever for the proper order of things, taking down slices of reality and replacing them in inappropriate niches. It was all very vexing to an orderly mind. He tried to back out; but as his gaze passed over the living TARDIS, Compassion winked outrageously at him, before toasting him with wine and ostentatiously returning to her pretense of immobility. Quickly finishing his recording, he floated back to the bar. Flopping off the beer mat, he detoured around the puddle of Janks, back to his "host" in this particular bit of "Outside". He paused on the way to regard Francois. The unlovely Ogran was frozen in the act of addressing his empty right hand. The Observer's face crinkled into an expression of great fondness, before he resumed his disguise by remounting his off-duty perch. He took one last look around the stilled room. Compassion gave him a conspiratorial smirk. Suppressing his irritation, the Observer permitted time to start. ".....EEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYAAAAAAAAA!" Nyssa finished her warrior's scream as she hammered the sword into Adric's neck - only his neck wasn't there. "????!!!!....AAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!!!" she cried as she spun on, overbalanced and fell, somehow contriving to get the sword under her with the blunt point aimed at her heart. The rest was sort of inevitable. The cry attracted no attention whatsoever. - when you've seen one disembowelling, you've seen them all. Not even the deviation from the norm in this case was sufficiently novel to cause anyone at all to notice. While Nyssa expired messily, Adric took his chance and bolted for the door. Francois let out an aggravated growl at the mess he was now going to have to clean up himself. He sighed and addressed his right hand. "What Mr Moggy looking so pleased about?" The End