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SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA

The meeting was going well, the Canadian group, composed of Paul Saltzman, Terry Nation and David Burton had travelled all the way to Sydney to meet Armquist Productions, as represented by Jerome Armquist and Ken Roarck.

By this time, both sides had done their due diligence. The Australians recognized Paul Saltzman as the real player, but they had a good read on both Nation and Burton, and the chequered history of the New Doctor.

Saltzman’s research had established that Armquist was more a financial arranger than a producer, but that seemed to be at least compensated for by Roarck’s involvement. They weren’t what Saltzman really wanted, but they were there.

And as both Jerome Armquist and Paul Saltzman understood, the Canadians needed a partner desperately. Time was running out. It wasn’t a coincidence that the meeting was being held in Sydney, rather than Toronto.

Saltzman’s major leverage was that if they couldn’t work out a deal, this morning, then he was at least in the city to talk to other potential producers and find a last minute replacement. He’d put out a few feelers.

He hoped he wouldn’t need to follow up. He didn’t relish trying to come up with a fall back while dragging Nation and Burton around like a pair of anchors. Nation was all right, the man understood business and could be charming, though he had a high opinion of himself. Burton would be a headache.

As it turned out though, things had gone remarkably well. Jerome Armquist was a thorough professional and utterly focused on business. He and Paul very nearly spoke a second language as they discussed funding, application deadlines, financing commitments, securities and schedules. For the first time, Paul was absolutely sure that the project would go through.

******

“We love this project,” Ken Roarch said expansively, “we absolutely love it. I’ll tell you, I’m a Doctor Who fan from way back. When I heard this was on the table, I scared up some bootlegs. Toad Warrior, Vienna, Volcano... top notch stuff.”

“Battle Toad,” Burton corrected, clearing his throat.

“Same thing,” Roarch said cheefully.

“We do have some notes though,” Jerome Armquist said.

“Love to hear them,” Saltzman said.

“You’ll find we’re pretty open to input,” Nation offered.

“Ken?”

“Right,” Roarch said, “well, as I said, love Doctor Who. Watched it all the time on ABC. But it’s a bit old fashionned in some ways. We notice that the X-Files are really hot right now.”

“Very successful,” Nation agreed.

“Exactly! So we thought, play it a bit more like that. Make the Doctor and Companion a bit more like Mulder and Scully. Make the show a little more... spooky, you know, more shadows, more mystery. Do aliens exist? What are they doing?”

“Well,” Burton said cheerfully, “in the Doctor’s universe, aliens definitely exist, and they try to invade once a week. So... mystery might be a little hard.”

“Well yeah,” Ken agreed easily. “But we can still make things spookier, creepier. Give it more of an edge, you know what I mean. An edge.”

“I like the way you’re thinking,” Nation said.

“There’s the matter of casting,” Armquist said. “We have some ideas. Obviously, everything is up in the air, and the key is that both sides ensure equitable shares.”

“We’re very reasonable,” Burton said.

“Jerome,” Ken said suddenly, “that young man we were interviewing, is he still around?”

“I think he might be,” Jerome said. “He was looking over a contract, we loaned him an office.”

“Hold on,” Ken said, “I’ll go check.”

Saltzman and Nation exchanged looks, something was up. Burton looked placid, unconcerned. Armquist smiled.

A second later, Roarch was bursting back into the conference room, accompanied by a tall, well built young man with chiseled features and perfect teeth.

“Here we go, Gentlemen,” Roarch said cheerfully. “We were looking at this project, and we thought, you know, what we needed was a brand new Doctor, someone with the magnetism and sex appeal of a Duchovny. And we found one. Gentleman, I give you Hugh Jackman, the next Doctor Who!”

Jackman smiled brilliantly as Ken lead him around the room, shaking hands. David Burton had gone white, and then read, but managed to shake Jackman’s hand and say something pleasant.

“Thanks,” Jackman said easily. “Like everyone else around here, I grew up on the show. So it’s a bit of a dream come true to even be considered.”

‘We...” Burton began, hissing slightly through clenched teeth. Nation put a hand on his arm.

“WE,” Saltzman said quickly, “are open to anything.”

He cast a quick glance at Nation, as if to say ‘for god’s sakes, shut David down!’

“But,” Saltzman continued, “obviously, we can’t make a decision like this right here. There are a lot of good candidates, for this and starring roles. We’ll have to have auditions, a process.”

“No,” Roarch said, “no, no. Understand perfectly. What you say makes perfect sense. There’s plenty of time to slice up the pie, and slice it up fair and square. Auditions? Totally. We’re up for it! We’re just throwing a hat in the ring.”

Roarch grinned, “we’re being pro-active that’s all. We met Hugh on something else, and we thought, hey boy, he could be perfect.”

He turned to Jackman. “Hugh, have a seat for a minute or two, tell us some of your thoughts on how you’d play the Doctor.”

Jackman looked concerned for a moment.

“If it’s all right with everyone?”

“I’d love to hear it,” Paul Saltzman said, “we’re very open.”

Terry Nation smiled, “I think we’ve got time for the young man.”

Nation’s hand was still squeezing David Burton’s arm.

“Well all right then....”

With easy, effortless charm, Jackman grabbed a seat, and started talking. Everyone nodding and smiling along except Burton, who sat there with a grin like a frozen rictus.

*****