The Past Doctor Adventures (and the Missing Adventures, their predecessors from Virgin) had to thread a rather fine needle. On the one hand, they existed to fill a void in the Doctor Who literary market for fans in the 1990s and early 2000s who weren’t particularly keen on the ongoing adventures of the McCoy or McGann Doctors, recreating those eras in prose. On the other hand, those authors that took on the task found themselves caught between recreating the past or trying to push forward with Classic Who Doctors in adventures quite unlike what they would have done on television, often at the expense of capturing the established TARDIS crew.
Which brings us to Justin Richards and his 1998 PDA Dreams of Empire. A novel that does that most unlikely of things. It finds a path between the two approaches and even captures Patrick Troughton in prose better than almost anyone else.
Richards has proven himself one of the successors to Terrance Dicks as a writer of traditional Doctor Who. It’s no surprise then that, on the surface, Dreams of Empire is very much in that Season Five mid-Troughton era mode. There’s an isolated setting (in this case an asteroid space fort turned prison) with a handful of rooms we actually see, a solid cast of supporting characters, a monster of sorts in the hulking robot soldier VETACs, and an eventual base under siege eating up much of the novel’s climax. All present and correct, you might say.
Which makes the actual plot and how it unfolds all the more surprising as Richards takes advantage of the medium. From an opening chapter that throws the readers into the politics of the Haddron Republic, modeled as Richards admits in the foreword to the 2013 reprint on Rome as Caesar crossed the Rubicon. Dreams of Empire becomes a sci-fi twist on a question of alternate history: what if in the long civil between Caesar and Pompey, Caesar had been the ultimate loser? Richards spends the opening chapter exploring that premise and, like Marc Platt did with his novelization of Downtime, essentially uses it to build up a lengthy backstory that will prove to be the backbone of the novel that follows. The difference being that Richards makes that concept work here by being forced to get mired down in continuity.
Doing so establishes the situation in which the Doctor, Jamie, and Victoria find themselves in when they finally arrive in the story. One where Richards allows the reader initially more context that the TARDIS crew have, while also perhaps gently reminding the reader as well of details they might not have caught onto. It’s something that also works in the context of what Richards ultimately offers: a murder mystery plot inside of a political thriller. As a reader of both genres, there were a couple of twists Richards pulls out that I saw coming as the finale approached. Even so, between clues and politics, there’s more than enough to keep the novel an engaging experience.
Something which is also aided by Richards pulling off another trick: managing to capture a version of the Troughton Doctor on the page. The quicksilver quality of Troughton’s screen Doctor, containing what Barry Letts called “semi-improvisation” as well as a strong visual quality, has proven an elusive thing to bottle up in prose with writers ranging from Dave Stone to Stephen Baxter failing to capture it. Even a number of the Target novelizations struggled despite being based on actual TV serials, though Big Finish’s audio dramas (benefiting from the presence of Frazer Hines and now Michael Troughton) have proven more adept at capturing it. In prose, only the now late David A. McIntee has for this reader captured Troughton.
Until, at least, I read this novel.
Richards presentation of Troughton’s Doctor is instantly recognizable. From the first scene in the TARDIS to the last, you can hear Troughton in your mind’s ear and see him in the mind’s eye. The quick turns from comedic to deadly serious and back again, the seeming jester hiding a thoughtful and even conniving figure, are all present correct as if he might have done this story back in 1967-68 if this had somehow made its way onto screen. Richards does lean too far into the comedic side of things a little too often which does rather take the shine off of things. But if you’re looking for a prose Troughton that reads like TV Troughton, Dreams of Empire is worth reading for that alone.
You could also read it for a prime example of the PDAs at one of its high points.