...in a moment, he would be witness to the fulfilment of one of his lesser ambitions—the death of his old enemy, the Doctor.and
Funnily enough, he was experiencing a twinge of regret. They had not always been enemies. In the early days at school they had been playmates. Even later, though their paths diverged, a friendly rivalry had been as far apart as they would allow themselves to go. If only the Doctor weren’t so abominably good! All this claptrap about morality, integrity, compassion and the rest! If only he had seen sense, together they could have ruled the Universe... But there it was. The Doctor had chosen. It was his own fault that he had to be killed.
...his mind was full of memories of his sometime friend. The time they played truant together, ‘borrowed’ the Senior Tutor’s skimmer and went on an unauthorised visit to the Paradise Islands; the time he fooled the High Council of the Time Lords into thinking it was the Doctor who had put glue on the President’s perigosto stick; the time the Doctor saved his life by... He shook his head fiercely. This was no time for weakness.