The four men sat around the table at the Hyperion restaurant. There was a wonderful view of the waterfront, but none of them were looking. There was a palpable air of doom hanging, a dark cloud hovering over them that made waiters reluctant to approach.
Paul Bernard read the letter for the third time, and then passed it to Barry Letts. Letts didn't need to read it. He had memorized it. They all had.
Paul Bernard sighed heavily and rubbed his face. The others stared fixedly at the table.
"Well..." said David Burton, finally, heavily, "well... what do we do now."
Ian Levine looked back and forth among their faces, searching for signs of hope.
Barry Letts grunted.
"Nothing," Letts said. "We've been fucked."
If anything, the bleak mood around the table worsened. Letts was well known for his mildness. His use of blunt terms, even after his now legendary meltdown, was still shocking.
"It's not so bad," David Burton said, "prospects for a second season look good. That door is open."
"We have to get to that point first," Bernard replied. "We can't make our airdates. If we don't make our airdates, then we are in breach of contract, if we are in breach of contract, they'll freeze our payables. If they freeze our payables, then we are bankrupt. End of story. Even if we somehow escape bankruptcy, then we're still screwed, the BBC's not going to give a second season to a company that it's in a major breach of contract dispute with."
"We can't make the airdates for Volcano," Letts said bleakly. "We just can't."
"What if we hired extra staff for the post-production, put in overtime, accelerated the schedule. Bumped weekends, evenings," Levine said.
Letts shook his head. "Even working round the clock, which will cost us money we don't have, we'd come up a few days short. And where would we get the moneyl anyway? We've both seen the budgets, we're swimming in red ink right now. We're deep in the hole, we're maxing out lines of credit, and that credit is secured by bridge financing, which is contingent on the BBC providing its contractual funds on time. Which they will not, if we miss an airdate, and they will not let us reschedule. If the BBC holds up its money, we're sunk."
"What about BBC Enterprises," David Burton asked. "If we can come through with a license deal with them, then that'll give us money. Or at least it will let us secure financing."
"They're dangling us on a string," Bernard said bitterly. "Won't say yes, won't say no, there's just a perpetual round of meetings over the MOU."
"So that's it," Letts said, pushing his empty wine class out to arms length on the table. "Game over. Hire yourselves lawyers, gentlemen, we may need them."
"There's no chance at all," Burton asked, "of meeting the airdates. Even if we had a week's extension?"
"A week's extension, certainly," Letts said. "I can have it ready for August 31. But they won't give it to us. If we can't make the August 24 airdate, it's over."
"So all we need is something to run on August 24?" Burton said hopefully. "What about that stuff we shot in Vienna?"
"Too short," Bernard said, "by far. And we've already run Vienna, 1913."
"Maybe do a rerun then?" Burton said. "One of our old episodes."
"Old episodes? It's all the same season. There's nothing to rerun, and our contract would preclude recycling."
"Maybe slap together a documentary? We have a lot of footage. Put up some talking heads, jazz it up."
"The BBC wouldn't swallow that for a minute."
"So, David," Barry Letts said, "unless you can produce an episode tucked away somewhere that none of us knew about, then we're done for."
"Then lets produce an episode," Burton said cockily, "why not?"
That produced a burst of humourless laughter from Letts and Bernard, Levine tittered nervously along.
"I said 'Why not?'" Burton said testily.
"David," Barry said patiently. "We can't finish the episodes we already have in production in time."
"Seriously. Something we can just throw together really quickly, one camera, no sets, no production, no edits. I'll sit in front of the Tardis and read Keats or something."
"Where are we going to get the money?" Bernard asked. "We've already scoured the back of the sofa cushions." He pantomimed turning out his pockets. "Lets see, I've got a piece of string, three bottle caps and a dead vole. Will that be enough, do you think?"
"Take it out of my wages," Burton said stonily.
Bernard peered at him. "Are you serious?"
"Wouldn't be enough," Letts said.
"I'll chip in," Levine spoke up. They glanced at him. "Maybe if we do something fast and cheap. We just have to fill the airtime for August 24, right? Stretch out the opening. Maybe a couple of minutes on a teaser. We could kill the time."
"Still," Letts said, "not enough. We can't even finish the current episodes on an accelerated schedule. The money's not there."
"Maybe...." Levine spoke cautiously, "maybe I could go back to the investors, see if they'll contribute. Get some of the crew to chip in."
"Careful about the unions," Bernard warned.
"I'm just saying," Levine said, glancing nervously at Barry Letts, "Paul may have the right idea. Maybe we can pull something simple together quickly."
"It's just twenty-five minutes," Burton said, "if we pad it out... twenty minutes? Eighteen?"
"Ship in the bottle episode," Levine said.
Paul Bernard leaned back in his chair. He pushed it back with his feet, balancing it on two legs for a long moment.
"We used to shoot live in the old days.... We could do it like that. Existing sets," he said finally, "and props. No builds, just what we have laying around. No locations. No guest cast. No coverage. No post-production effects. Just some long shots. Simplest possible shooting set ups. Minimal edits. Barry?"
"Practically live? Like the old days?" Barry Letts said. "Two cameras running, to make it work like it did back then. There's no time to bang a script together."
"Just say," David insisted. "could we do it?"
Letts looked frustrated. Then thoughtful. He pulled out a pen and made some notations on a table cloth. "Okay, so assume that all the above the line costs are waived. No budget for new sets or props. No guests. Two cameras, a boom man. Basic edit. Minimum sound edit. Post-production mix." Bernard leaned over, looking at his notations, pulling out his own pen, making corrections and deletions.
"Let's assume," Bernard said, "one day, principal photography. Two tops. Get it in the can really quick. As if we're shooting live." He redid several of Letts notes.
"That ... could work," Letts said slowly.
"So a half hour of running around the Tardis?" Ian Levine said. "You said existing props. That Lizard King costume, from the Monsters of Ness. We never used it. We paid for it. It's still in storage. We could use that."
"No," Letts said, making a notation, "that's an actor, featured role, guest star rate, cost too much."
"Not if he doesn't have any lines," Bernard said, "then he's a stuntman, an extra."
Letts stroked out an item, wrote a new number in. "We can do stuntmen."
"Jen and Judy," David said.
"They're under contract," Letts said, "no extra cost, really. We can bury it in the budget."
"But they're sticks," Bernard said, "I'll trust David to carry a role like this, but..."
"The monster can just chase them around," David said, for filler.
"No good," Ian said, "there's a reason we didn't use it, remember. It was the only good costume, but it could barely move around."
"Put it on a dolly or something maybe," David said, "or what about the Vormic costumes?"
"We didn't use the Vormics, remember."
"We didn't, but the props gang had a few prototypes that they were playing with. We could use those."
Letts looked up, crossed out 'one' beside 'stuntman/extra' wrote in '2?' Wrote some more numbers.
"The Vormics and Lizard King won't match," Bernard said.
"Lots of spare Vormic parts laying around," David said, "we can use them to tart it up. Maybe paint them to match."
Barry Letts put down his pen. "Now you're talking a props budget."
"No, no," David protested, "I know these guys, they're pals. They have everything lying around. They can throw them together. I'll talk to them, I can get them to throw in for some beer and pizza. I can talk them into wearing the costumes."
Letts and Bernard looked at each other. "No lines. Screen Credit as extras, not stuntmen..."
"I can sell that."
"How long to write a script?"
"I can do it," David said, he glanced at Levine, "with Ian. Eglin to polish."
"You'd have to do it within a lot of limitations," Barry said.
"We'll hammer an outline," Bernard said, "I know what the technical requirements will be. We can do an outline, I'll do preproduction, while they fill in the dialogue."
"What about a Director?"
"I'll ask Carol to come back," David said, "she liked me."
"It's going to sink us even deeper into the hole," Barry Letts said finally, "no matter what. There's no extra money to find anywhere."
"Can we take money from Volcano? If we cut it back to one episode?"
Barry Letts shook his head. Volcano was his baby. "Wouldn't work. The shoot is mostly in the can, the rest of the costs are flat. It won't cost us any more to do two, than to do one at this point. Hell, it'll cost us more, trying to recut a two part serial down to a one shot. There's no point. "
"I'll find the money," Ian promised, "I'll go back to the investors."
"You'll need a budget," Barry said, "making a note. God knows what you'll say to them."
"I'll take out a mortgage if I need to."
Paul Bernard sucked air through his teeth. He looked up and around at the others. "Barry, bottom line, could we make this work?"
Barry Letts stared thoughtfully at the scribbles.
"No," he said, "we can get it done, possibly, probably. If we can pull the money together. But we're already deep as it is." He gave a long pause. "But if we don't try, then we're sunk. So yes, let's give it a shot."
He looked around. One by one, they nodded.
David Burton called out, "Waiter? We'll have the tablecloth to go please."