"Prepare to die, Doctor!"

The Master growled at himself. He had been rehearsing this line over and over into the mirror for the last two hours yet still couldn't get the delivery just right. He leaned in taking a closer look at himself. The body that he had assumed shortly before arriving on Altagen was a good match. He was able to retain his jet black hair, sharp eyes, goatee and wicked grin, all the features he had grown very fond of. His overall physique had changed, he looked years younger and felt very spry, which pleased him. On the outside he looked like The Master, but on the inside something was wrong, he could feel it in his bones, but just didn't know what it was. Stepping back, he took a deep breath and tried again. "Prepare to die, Doctor!"

"If you want to sound convincing, you'll have to change your inflection."

The Master spun around. A tall, thin, spirited humanoid stood in his doorway, her pale arms were crossed and her pretty face suppressed a smile.

"Jordan! How long have you been there?" he demanded, feeling awkward and angry.

"Long enough," she answered.

"This is my room and off-limits!"

The Master pushed her out of his room and slammed the door.

***

The left side of the console looked as if it had been hit by a cyclone. Bits of wire dangled from underneath the console while the top of it was cluttered with computer chips. Jordan was resting comfortably in a soft chair with one bare foot up over the arm. She watched The Master as he sorted through a pile of computer chips. "I've got it!" she said wiggling her webbed toes at him, "I'm going to call you Machiavelli!"

The Master looked up at her confused, "What are you talking about?"

"I am not calling you Master, and 'hey you' is out of the question. So unless you tell me your real name, I'll just have to give you one."

"Well not that one."

"Okay, how about Sunshine?" he gave her such a sharp look it could have cut her in half. "All right, it was just a joke. Machiavelli take it or leave it."

The Master only grunted at her.

"I've studied Earth history, and Machiavelli was a big part of it," Jordan said, "Some of the things you say, remind me of him."

"The end justifies the means." The Master said abruptly.

"Yes! That's exactly what he wrote about."

"I know, I knew him. Where do you think he got all his ideas from?"

"You knew him?" she looked doubtful, "that's impossible."

"I am a Timelord," he said arrogantly, "Which means I can travel throughout time and space or had you forgotten?"

"I didn't think you were serious. You mean you can actually time travel in this thing?" she questioned looking around the TARDIS.

"Yes, in this thing," he answered tersely. "And it's not a thing, it's a TARDIS Type 40 Mark-2, and I would prefer if you called her by her proper name."

"Sorry."

The Master returned to his computer chips and Jordan waited a moment before continuing, "what is it exactly that you're trying to do?"

The Master glared at her. There was nothing he hated more than being disturbed when he was trying to concentrate.

"If you are going to travel with me, you must learn how to be silent," he snapped.

"Oh I know how to be silent, I just don't want to be." She grinned at him, her smile was infectious and he hated that. The Master straightened up.

"I need to reconfigure the trans-dimensional amplifier," he explained, rolling up his sleeves, "it hasn't worked properly since that mindless Ogron fired his laser gun at me."

"Is that how you got stranded on Altagen in the first place?"

"Partly, yes. Wretched beast." he answered with disgust.

"What happened to him? I don't recall seeing an Ogron wandering the streets of Altagen."

"I used my tissue compression eliminator on him, knocking him down to size, then threw him out with the trash." The Master mimed throwing out the Ogron and dusting his hands off afterwards.

"A shrink gun? That sounds nasty." Jordan shivered at the thought.

"It's not a shrink gun," he said annoyed at her slang, "it's a tissue compression eliminator, and perhaps I'll show you sometime," he said flashing her a wicked smile.

"No thanks, I've never had a problem with my height."

"Pity," he cracked his knuckles before sifting once again through the pile of computer chips. "Ah ha! Here it is!" He smiled at finding the appropriate chip.

"Do you often have things shooting at you?"

"Oh yes, my dear, quite often. But fortunately they tend to miss. I am quite agile," he proclaimed.

"Obviously not agile enough for the lowlifes of Altagen," Jordan ribbed.

"They were rather nimble. Much more than I anticipated, and I was not at my best." The Master reached up and prodded his healing wound. "My head is still throbbing from it."

"Why?"

"Because they hit me rather hard!" he snarled.

"No, I mean why do you have creatures shooting at you?"

"Oh. Let's just say that I'm not exactly a likeable man."

"I like you." Her warm brown eyes met his cold blue ones.

"Please, I'd rather you didn't say that, it'll only make it much harder to kill you when the time comes."

"Yeah, right. Can I help you fix that trans-dimensional thing?"

The Master groomed his soft black beard giving her offer some thought. "Yes, I suppose you can. You ought to do something to earn your keep. Bring me my sonic screwdriver." He turned back to the mess on the console while Jordan remained in the chair. The Master looked up, annoyed that she hadn't moved.

"Do as I say!"

"I said I'd help fix, I didn't say I'd fetch and carry for you," Jordan declared.

"I highly doubt the Doctor has these kinds of problems," the Master grumbled half to himself.

"I heard that." Jordan pulled herself out of her chair and went to him. "All you have to do," she said as she poked him gently in the arm, "is ask nicely." She reached over and grabbed the sonic screwdriver. "So who is this Doctor?"

"Another Timelord," his voice dripped with contempt, "my nemesis."

"Don't you Timelords have regular names?" The Master scowled at her as she continued. "So why is this Doctor your enemy?"

"What I am, he is not. And what he is, I am not," he answered cryptically.

"Yeah, well that doesn't really answer my question, does it?" She handed him the sonic screwdriver.

"We have different points of view. What I believe in, he doesn't. I am black and he is white. He is wrong and I am right."

"He is evil and you are good," Jordan chimed in.

"Well not exactly. I am not altruistic, nor do I want to be. I am a malevolent being," he said proudly.

"I don't believe that."

"You'd better," he sounded almost threatening.

"No, I can't," she said brushing back her blonde hair, "you come across as someone who tries to be evil, but really isn't."

"Oh I'm evil all right, you just have to ask the Doctor," he said under his breath.

"Despite what you say, I trust you."

"You would put your trust in the devil?" he mocked.

"You are not the devil. Not anymore." He was both intrigued and frightened by her comment. "I haven't known you for very long, but I know you would never do anything to hurt me.

"I wouldn't count on that."

"I am, and I will. I saved your life, and in return you will save mine."

"Now you're being ridiculous!" he said.

"Fate led me to you, we are each others destiny."

"I do not believe in destiny. I am a Timelord, I control destiny," he said haughtily.

"You will see," Jordan smiled. This time it was her turn to be cryptic.

The Master stood in front of the mirror in his room, staring at himself long and hard. He repeated out loud what Jordan had said to him, "You are not the devil. Not anymore." A cold chill went down his spine, and he knew. This latest body assumption had changed him in a way that didn't please him. He didn't feel as wicked as he once was, a spark of humanity was dwelling somewhere inside. It was changing him and he didn't want to change. He had to find that spark and destroy it before it was too late.