Time and Tide: Well...now what?
Time and Tide: An Interlude...What Just Happened??
Part 15 in the TIDERAKER series, which will be completely in 6B and Parallel Time.
Summary: The Sontarans are still in Space. The Time Lords are planning. The Third Zone is very unhappy. Guess who has to clean up the mess?
Characters: Second Doctor, 2nd Doctor, Jamie, The Two Doctors, unspecified Time Lords, CIA, Sontarans, Ice Warriors, Shobogans, Outsiders, Xenobia. Ties in with The Two Doctors; Trial of A Time Lord; The Invasion of Time; The Time War.
They collapsed upon the floor of the first non-fatal looking room they could find. The Doctor simply folded up like a doll and flopped upon the carpet face-first. Jamie collapsed with only a tiny bit more dignity, using some sort of ornamental sculpture for a backrest. He couldn't lie down on his front or his back, much as he'd like to. The shrapnel had shredded the skin off his legs and something nasty and small had somehow managed to slice open his shirt at the ribs-a shallow cut but amazingly painful, like a foot-long papercut.
He also had what felt like radiation burns all over his skin-probably the effects of the explosions. Ouch.
“I feel like I just went throo a week-long dance contest wi' Yeti.” Jamie groaned. At least the pain in his legs hadn't kicked in yet.
“I feel like I just took the High Council spelunking in the Shullcolbert Cave System in the height of blindworm season.”
“That's bad, isn't it?”
“Yes..!”
“Shouldn't we be getting' up?” Jamie was finally starting to breathe normally.
“No.” The Doctor had his face in the fold of his arm. The one not attached to the injured shoulder.
“Ey, Doctor.” Jamie poked him in the ribs. A muffled sound-possibly rude-was his answer. “Ey, Doctor. Can ye get up?”
“Dzsn't mttr. M'not gttnup.”
“Ye might want to get up.”
“'VI get up, 'll ge' 'nvlved. I'm not getting involved in'nything f'rest of...day.”
“You said you were gunna have a talk with Lady Ara's parents if we survived this.”
“Don' think I won'!” The little man exclaimed indignantly. He lifted his head up, then quickly thought better of it. “Later.” He gasped. His forehead hit the bone of his forearm and he went still.
Jamie sighed. The shard of metal sticking out of the little man's shoulder blade looked quite nasty. A small pool of orange-red had collected in the coat before the Doctor had managed to biofeedback the bleeding. “Want me to get that out of your back?”
“Might as well... 'f you don't...th't id't quack...slvrll...have to...”
“I'd best do it now, while I still have some strength in muh hands.” Once his body finished off the war-haze, he would be a nervous wreck. If it was in the bone, it could easily be bent. The trick would be to pull it out in a way that conformed to the already sliced flesh, without aggravating the rest. He used his sleeve to grip the edge of the metal and, far too experienced in dealing with the Doctor's injuries than any sane man would like, he pulled it out in a slow, smooth stroke. The Doctor only flinched once before going still, so the Piper figured he had fainted. Time Lords were really just too sensitive there, he shook his head. All those talents their bodies possessed, but a blow to the clavicle or shoulderblade made them weaker than kittens. It was another reason to be glad to be human.
Luckily, there was only one gush of blood to come out of the surgery, and that was small. Jamie found a sterile packet in his sporran and managed to slide it under the layers of the Doctor's coat and shirt to press it down on the wound. Yet again, he was glad the little fellow wore loose clothing. That made things so much easier.
That left the scalp wound at the base of his skull and the slice at his bare neck just below the scalp wound. Jamie shook his head and found more sterile pads. It wasn't a perfect solution-the pads would sterilize and keep the wounds hydrated. He'd need real medical attention soon. He caught sight of the Doctor's supposedly uninjured limb and frowned. The hand was curled loosely in on itself. He leaned over with a grimace of pain and gently opened the fingers. The contact burns from the telepathic circuits were small but nasty-looking, boring deep within his neurons. Well, that made sense. He'd needed a bridge between the brain of the TARDIS and his own brain...his own nervous system would have been a perfect path.
“I found them!”
Jamie wearily looked up. He blinked. His eyelids were sticky with sweat and blood-when did that happen? The Outsider girl with the bright red hair had scuttled in like a beetle, her bow at ready. “Are you all right, Piper?” She asked him, and for the first time, the Piper caught that she was speaking his language.
“Och, I will be...the Doctor needs help.” More were coming in, brightly colored Outsiders, Shobogans, Ice Warriors...Xenobian guardsmen; a tall, furious man in dark robes...and the lights in the room were dimming up again. Or was he just on the edge of fainting? Sometimes it was hard to tell...
They were guiding him to his left side, where it hurt less. The Doctor was lying very still, rumpled silver hair falling over his closed eyes like a sleeping child. His mouth was slightly open, and Jamie felt a prickle of dread at a sudden thought.
“Doctor, wake up.” He fought against the helping hands trying to ease him back. “Doctor! Wake up! Someone wake him up! He's go' a concussion!”
“It's all right, Piper.” The Girl held his head in her lap, the movement making all spin in circles. She smelled, he thought with ridiculous clarity, of the wilderness, and real oxygen.
“He'll need medicine.”
“He'll get it.” She smiled. “You both will. I promise you.” Around them people were bashing about, yammering, and shouting and there was some sort of quarrel, but Jamie's mind had had enough nonsense for the night. It turned off and let him sleep.
__________________________
Jamie woke up in a hospital bed in a room adjusted to warmer Terran bodies. He blinked a bit at the cool white ceiling, and the assortment of strange plants in even stranger pots, letting his mind trickle back his awareness in stages.
It was quiet. Soothingly, blissfully quiet.
The Piper's eyes snapped open. He knew he was being paranoid, but he didn't care. With utmost consideration he struggled upright, wincing at his complaining ribs, and then something shot fire up his leg. He clutched at it in reflex. Bandages met his fingers.
He looked around the room slowly. It was a small private ward-room, and he was alone.
Jamie sighed, resigned, and pulled back the covers. He was dressed in the two-piece universal suit common to the Low Born Gallifreyans but that didn't bother him. It was comfortable. He stretched, limb by limb, and risked leaving the bed.
“Oh, you're awake!”
Jamie turned his heavy head. The angry-hair girl was coming in with a pitcher of water. She grinned at him.
“Oh. Aye. Hello.”
“Hello yourself.” She said merrily. “Would you like some water? They're awfully free with it here, but they do have enough to drink.”
“Oh, yes. Please.” He sank back to the edge of the bed and gulped the wonderful liquid. His eyes closed.
“The Doctor.” He wrenched his eyes open. “Where is he?”
“Be calm, he will be fine. Would you like to see him?”
“Aye, that I would.”
_____
The Doctor was sleeping. A thin metal circlet rested on his head, wired to a box in the wall. His hand was in a healing glove and the Piper could see that even in sleep, his left arm was stiff and awkward at his side. Jamie gulped. “Now what are they doin' to him?” He wanted to rip him free from all the metal but couldn't risk it; it might be actually helping him. His fingers clutched at his side helplessly.
The Girl was puzzled. “It's a neural knitter. He did have a concussion. Also, we're told he hadn't spent enough time in the Zero Atmosphere before this mission started. So it's healing that too.”
“Och. I dinnae know what to believe.” Jamie mumbled. His shoulders felt two hundred pounds heavier and he sank into a chair against the bed, head handing down.
“Piper? I don't understand. It's to help.”
That's what they always said. He tried not to look as heartbroken as he felt; perhaps she was telling the truth. Maybe this time he wouldn't wake up with his memories gone. “I'd like to stay with him, if I may.”
“I don't see why not. My father let me stay to watch the two of you.”
“Aye? How is that?” Jamie was curious despite himself-or hoping to learn some tactical information that could be useful later. “Why are the Outsiders involved in this mess, Miss...”
“Oki.” She smiled at him. “Oki, Piper.” She squeezed his hand and stared into his eyes with her own, which were a deep violet. “It's very simple, really. The Outsiders refuse most forms of technology, but mostly we refuse the technology of the Time Lords. But the Time Lords do on occasion, work with us when there are matters needing our attention.”
Tired, Jamie found the nearest chair to the bed and sank in it; he reached up and gripped the sleeping Doctor's hand in his own, reassured by its coollness.
“On occasion, one of us wishes to seek a life of our own away from Gallifrey. The Third Zone has been hospitable to our needs, and there are many Colony Worlds that let us seek life in their territories. It is difficult because once they leave they can never return.” The girl glanced down once, her face clouding. “Just before the Sontarans killed everyone on Xenobia, my father had been in talk-negotiation--to bring a cadre of our people to the Station. They wanted to try living with technology.”
“I'm glad they didn't get to go.” Jamie said honestly. “It was a terrible thing.”
“I'm glad you survived.” Oki smiled.
I like her. Jamie stared down, his cheeks going red. “I wasn't brave.” He said quietly. “The Doctor told me to save myself. I wanted to stay with him. But I ran.”
“But you did, and you lived, and you were able to save him and if it weren't for you being alive, I doubt this Station would still be here now.” Oki was practical. “And I'll say you were brave because you obeyed an order that went against your grain.”
Jamie breathed deep. He hadn't spoken of this to the Doctor, but eventually the time would come. He didn't look forward to it, for when the Doctor was hurt and defensive, he snapped worse than ever.
“Aye, but it still leaves a bad taste in my mouth.” He admitted.
She grinned at him. “I understand. I don't always agree with my father's words.”
Jamie blushed, glancing down. “Well...are ye one of the people who wants to leave Gallifrey?”
It was her turn to shrug. “It would be easier for me to leave than it would be for others. I'm not full-blooded Gallifreyan.”
“Ye look it.” Jamie said politely, even though it was usually impossible to tell the difference.
“My mother was part Tellurian. There are more of us out there than one might think...” He face clouded and grew sad. “But I talk too much. You should get your rest. You'll be needing it for later!”
“Later? What is later?”
“There will be a meeting to discuss everything that happened.”
“Oh, no.” Jamie moaned with full feelings. “Cannae we not just have the meeting wi'out us?”
“I'm afraid it doesn't quite work that way.” But she smiled as she said it. “I am sorry. You will have time to rest first."
Jamie grumbled as she found another blanket. “They always have awful meetings.” He grumbled. “Food-cubes and distilled water if you're lucky so ye can keep on going for hours past your endurance...”
“Outsiders and Ice Warriors will be present.” Oki said firmly. “That means there will be flesh and fruit.”
“Oh, that sounds better.” But it was still a meeting.
_________
“Shall we get this over with?”
“By all means.”
Jamie grimaced. The little man was washed up with fresh clothes, but a sling bound his arm tightly to his waist. Without both arms inside his overlarge coat, he looked smaller than ever. His circuit-burned hand was wrapped in synthetic skin that crackled when he moved.
Jamie got to his feet, smiling wearily. “Och, ye look awful.” He said cheerfully.
The Doctor smiled. “Thank you, Jamie.”
“Still up to your neck in the geothermals, you old rouge.” Markhall had risen to his feet, and in a swish of leathery dignity, clapped the little man deep in his embrace. The Doctor winced at the sheer power of the grip. “Didn't I say when we next met you'd be in prison or the High Council? I didn't think you'd try both! At least you're trying one at a time instead of both at once!”
“I'm more impressed that you're still standing.” The little man grinned up at the huge one. “Still collecting cobras?”
“Everyone needs a hobby.”
“Mine never killed me.”
“Just that one time, you rouge.” Markhall scolded. “Very well, let's get on with it...the sooner this is finished the sooner I can go home.” He gave the Doctor a final pat that rocked him like a toy, and returned to his chair.
“The CIA has been kind enough to permit us the use of this room for our discussion.” The Tribunal had (of course) been present all along and chose to speak at that moment. Three serene, remote faces turned as one to the three CIA representatives and bowed from the neck down.
The CIA numbered Madame Supervisor, Councilman Jabor, and Councilman-Castellan Chep. Jamie had seen the last two on occasion, and usually had a hard time remembering them at all-which, the Doctor would be quick to add, made them dangerously typical CIAgents.
Jamie mused that the CIA did not look happy to be here, or loan their room, or be noticed.
“What exactly is the purpose of this meeting?” The Doctor asked tiredly. Jamie quietly guided him to the last available chair-doubtless left for his use on purpose. Everyone could see him as well as he could see them.
“This meeting is to informally come to a decision on the Sontarans.” A tall, skeletal man with hard blue eyes slowly rose to his feet. “We have not been formally introduced, Doctor. I am the Viceroy of Xenobia.”
“Ah. The new one.” The Doctor nodded once and refrained from commenting about puppet rulers for shadow organizations. “Why are Jamie and I part of this meeting?” Skepticism hung a little thick on his voice.
Markhall chuckled softly. “While some might argue that you're well out of this mess, others were able to argue that you were already so involved with the preliminary, the beginning, and the end that you may as well sit through the epilogue.” His eyes flashed wickedly.
“The biggest question is how you were able to anticipate the complex movements all around you, Doctor.” The Viceroy began. “We were watching much of the events through our screens but we did not have your insight.”
“Oh, that's hardly a mystery.” The Doctor rolled his eyes. “I lived as a fugitive for how many years? One's instincts get a little sharper with the practice.” A still-dark eyebrow popped up in additional commentary. “The disturbing bit's when you realize you've seen it all before.”
“How did you know Vard was a renegade before we did?” The Viceroy was not happy.
The Doctor adopted an expression of attempted patience. “Vard was hardly acting within the normal behavior for a Sontaran. Consorting with Daleks wasn't the half of it.” He reached up with his free hand and tapped his chin. “He was Stike's Commander. Stike was until that point, the most atypical Sontaran I'd met.”
“Atypical in what way?” Madame Supervisor asked sharply.
“To begin with, he actually expressed doubts for his actions that involved the partnership with Chessene and my necessary vivisection.” The Doctor had by then become desensitized to that issue, but it still caused an emotional ripple throughout the room. Ignoring it, he continued: “He actually rationalized it to me that it was for Sontaran glory. Rationalization really isn't part of being a Sontaran.” He leaned back in the chair with a momentary grimace at the press of cushion against his injured back. “But the real deciding factor? That was when he refused to fight me in a duel after I insulted his honor and challenged him on his treachery.”
“Och!” Jamie groaned, hitting his forehead with his palm. “Choost like hoo Vard overlooked th' chance tae fight Axor in a duel to restore his honor! Ey, hold on noo! That's how ye got your cheekbone cracked, isn't it?”
“Yes.” The Doctor said sourly. “If he was a true Sontaran, he would have broken my neck or accepted the challenge. I'd be dead and worthless to Chessene at the one, or I'd be free and on my feet-and heading straight for the Time Machine with the nearest bomb.” He scowled. He caught on that they were staring at him. “What?”
Jamie closed his eyes for a moment. “Naething, Doctor.” He said quietly. “They're just noo used tae the way ye think.” As if anyone ever would be.
“Anyway, Stike, like Vard, turned down a duel after a deadly insult, but he never quite...personally denied the insult!"
“That musst have been quite the inssult!” Axor lisped.
“I thought so too. I compared his treachery as natural to his alliance with the Androgums. But he also said something interesting. He refused on grounds that I wasn't a Sontaran. That's a new line, and one that Vard used. It caught my attention.”
“Vard was Sstike'ss Leader.” The Ice Lord hissed softly. “He would of coursse sspeak with Vard'ss wordss.”
“Sontarans traditionally care about their honor and how they look. Non-Sontarans come in second-best, true. Each and every time, a Sontaran will put his race before anyone else's. If someone puts them up to their honor, they usually respond because it rather defeats the purpose of being superior if you can't demonstrate your superiority every now and then.” The Doctor missed having both hands free. He tapped his fingers against his knee. “You see, if they permit lesser beings to mock them, it sets a bad precedent.”
“Would Vard be the brains behind this show o' trade with the Daleks?” Jamie asked politely. He got the feeling Madame Supervisor didn't want him to be here at all, much less talk, but she couldn't risk the ire of the Ice Warriors.
“It's the only thing that makes sense out of the information.” The Doctor smiled slightly. “Congratulations, Jamie. What's your reasoning?”
“Nae reasoning, just the facts.” The Piper shrugged. “They had Dalek weapons and tools; they had Dalek cells.” He picked up one of the odd little drinks and frowned at it. “Then there's the whole riddle with the Time Vortex.” He took a cautious sip and was glad he could keep it down. Sometimes you never knew with Gallifreyans. “And I'm betting you weren't headin' back tae the Sontaran Coreworld a'all. They were takin' ye straight tae the Daleks.”
“That is a wild leap of thought.” One of the CIA agents-Chep-tucked his hands deep in his sleeves. Jamie saw the Doctor often do the same thing in agitation, and had a new perspective on why his Doctor adored his coats so large.
“When it comes tae the Doctor, the Daleks will actually condescend tae make treaty.” Jamie scowled. “Not that they plan tae keep it. They're like Cybermen that way.
“The Sontarans were daft to work with the Daleks, because the Daleks only conquer and destroy everything that comes their way. Ye literally hae' ta sup wi' a long spoon at their table.” Jamie saw the Doctor's hand trembling again and passed him one of the drinks. He needed something to do, and holding a glass would help. “I'm guessin' that both sides were playin' each other for what they wanted and pretendin' tae get along. The Daleks are always lookin' fer supplies in their conquests, and they've offered huge rewards for th'Doctor in the past. Then ye have the Sontarans. They're always needin' resources for their war, and they can travel in large parts o' the Galaxies that they cannae.
“At the same time, Sontarans badly want time travel. They probably ponied up wi' the Daleks because they were the only race they could find that do any sort o' time travel and not be allied wi' the Time Lords.” Jamie made a face. “The Daleks gave 'em that Vortex Magnetron sae they'd spring that surprise on Gallifrey.”
“Why would they give such uneasy allies something as valuable as a Magnetron?” The Keeper asked softly.
“Because both races have a very solid common ground.” The Doctor answered dully. “They are absolutely confident of their abilities, and have no fear. Both are well-established in taking opportunity of a power vacuum when a war leaves an area weak.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “If the Sontarans won, they would be distracted by their campaign and the Daleks would come in and take them over before they could refresh their numbers. If the Sontarans lost, the Daleks would find Gallifrey exhausted and unprepared.”
“Aye, and they also gave it up because it was a small price to pay if they get their skookum mutant tentacles on you.” Jamie said sternly at the Doctor.
“The Daleks hate you that much?” Niven spoke with his eyebrows up. “I suppose congratulations are in order.”
“I'm not sure if they hate me, so much as I offend them.” The Doctor mused in his soft voice. “It must be dreadfully aggravating to yell “Exterminate” for so many thousands of years, and this one person just keeps popping up and not getting exterminated. Hmmn. I must be quite the rude fellow.”
“I shudder to think what would have happened if you hadn't been rude to Vard.” Markhall was serious as he looked at Jamie. “It provoked events ahead of his planned time. “
“Aye, well, do what yer best at.” Jamie shrugged with a bashful smile.
“You're best at insulting people?” Markhall chuckled.
“Oh, no. That's his job.” Jamie jerked his thumb at the Doctor. “I just keep an eye on him...make sure he only gets in trouble up tae his neck and nae over his head.”
The Martians laughed. “Sso we ssee.” Axor was smiling. “Every Mirror has a frame.”
The Doctor jumped slightly, and gave the Ice Lord a sharp look but said nothing as he smiled. Jamie had the sense something was said beneath the words.
_________
The meeting started to lag as the appointees dickered back and forth on various points. Jamie's eyes grew heavy, and when he glanced at the Doctor, he was envious to see the little man was taking a nap bolt upright.
“You have acted for the benefit of Chimera.” The thin Minyian Ambassador cleared her throat. “We thank you for everything that you have done and we ask what we may do in return.”
“I didn't do all this to gather a debt!” The Doctor snapped.
“Doctor!” Madame Supervisor barked. “Apologize at once!”
“I will not!”
“Calm down, Thete.” Markhall lifted a hand the size of a frying pan. “Unintentionally unfortunate wording, I'm afraid. He's always been a little bit defensive about his motives.” The huge Shobogan smiled at him. “The truth is, he doesn't have motives. He just does...what he does because he doesn't have a choice. If you think of him as a holy madman, you'll do much better with understanding him.”
“It takes one to know on, Cobra Breeder.” The Doctor grumbled.
“Just for that, I'm naming my latest subspecies after you. It's small, and a mottled green the exact shade of your maniac eyes, and hunts by ambushing with a false lure on the end of its tail. Oh, and when I say it's small, I'm also referring to the brainpan.”
“I knew I'd live to regret beating you so miserably in that Sepulchasm Tournament.”
“You cheated.”
“So were you. Ergo, I won the cheating contest.”
Axor was enjoying the scene hugely-or perhaps the scene of the puffing and purpling CIA. Probably both. Ice Warriors were pragmatic. “We undersstand. Let us remove the debt before it startss. Requesst of uss.”
The Doctor took a deep breath. “I have a suggestion. Only a suggestion.” He waited a moment, collecting his thoughts as he pressed his fingertips together. “Chimera needs to exist. What happened to it was...dreadful. And what it has done is create a terrible vacuum of mental power. It needs to be healed...and restaffed.” His eyes narrowed. “Without species like Androgums.”
“This is not an unfair suggestion.” The Viceroy nodded. The Minyan delgate also nodded.
“I'm not finished. There are two good people who would be ideally suited for helping Chimera restore its previous purpose.” His fingertips pushed into each other so hard it was a wonder the whorls of his fingertips didn't catch with each other. “Two of my former Companions. Zoe Heriot, of the Space Wheel. Her intellect is easily on par with Dastari's, but she completely lacks the ability to go bad the way he did-she simply doesn’t have the arrogance and ego involved. It would offend her sense of logic and order. If anyone could coordinate the Chimera and hold it together, it would be Zoe. Offer her a place with you, and for any family who would accompany her.
“Zoe Heriot is a Human? And she rivals Dastari's intellect?” Markhall blinked.
“Yes.” The Doctor said flatly. “She's a multilevel calculator, able to receive, collate, summarize and triage large amounts of data on a daily basis. Her personal ethics are as strong as her mind. You will not find her swayed by dreams of glory and achievement for its own sake.” And thank goodness her mental defenses had strengthened during her years on the TARDIS.
“We agree this could be done.” The Viceroy said slowly.
“Her memory should be graphed first.” Madame Supervisor spoke up. “She was memory-wiped in the past, as you recall, Doctor.”
“Of course.” The Doctor smiled slightly. “But I posit that even if there were issues with her memory, she would still remain a most useful contribution. Her current timeline is...to put it delicately...a waste of her talents and her timestream ends without note due to the well-meaning interference of the Time Lords that, when they erased her memories of traveling with me, also erased her natural development. Her era is now a Divergent Zone-a conduit into a Parallel Universe.”
The temperature dropped about thirty degrees on the side of the room that held the Time Lords. The Doctor smiled at it. There was no warmth in his eyes at all.
“If you believe this young person is suitable for the Chimera, then by all means I will speak in her defense and work to bring her to Chimera.” The Minyan agreed softly.
“Ass do we.” Axor lisped. “A persson going to wasste is a double liability for the future. Chimera musst be resstored.”
“And that leaves the other candidate; Victoria Waterfield.” The Doctor kept his face cool and smooth, but his eyes were distant, looking through the wall opposite. “Victoria is an ambassadorial and diplomatic dream come true. She's highly intelligent, but her genteel personality misleads most people into misunderstanding her It is always to their dismay to be caught out in her cleverness. She is resistant to hostile minds and has survived long-term exposure to the Great Intelligence without damage to her psyche. She is resourceful, maternal, and able to get the most unlikely people to do what is needed to be done. Also, she has boundless compassion and gentle wording. She is a rare example of manners and intelligence, and even when sorely tested, she would never place her own value as more important than another's. She is a natural inspirer, a counselor, a mediator, and a communicator. Chimera needs this! Dastari was permitted to get as far as he did with his foolish schemes because there was an obvious barrier between his office and the rest of the station. He was entrusted with the care of the Station, but he didn't CARE about anyone in it! Anyone who wishes to be a part of Chimera needs to break down these barriers; lofty goals for helping the Universe aren't enough! The future Chimerans need to be able to LIVE together, WORK together, and ACT together, to bond closely and know when matters are out of true. That is the ONLY guarantee against this sort of tragedy ever again!” He struck his leg with his fist, ignoring the pain in his fingers from the action.
“You say little in way of describing her intelligence.” Madame Supervisor's eyes narrowed.
“She had the best education of her era, which, I should add, placed a heavy emphasis on problem-solving and creative thinking. Her late father was intelligent enough to begin preliminary time-travel studies with primitive Industrial Revolution technology-fascinating stuff; much more organic than ours. Her mother was well known for her skill in politics. That requires an intelligence all its own, I would say.” He smiled slightly. “She has never stopped learning and is well steeped in the non-temporal philosophies of Earth. Victoria is the best of her parents. She has the moral courage to stand for her beliefs. Even though the Daleks murdered her father and kept her a prisoner, she was resilient, protective of others, and never thought to strike out at the Daleks in anger. She values life, knowing full well that a life, once taken, cannot be taken back.”
“So far, you have asked reasonably.” The Minyan Skide tilted her head to one side. “But if I may, your requests are for the good of Chimera and the Third Zone. Do you ask for nothing for yourself?”
The Doctor's expression went from mild to almost blank, then almost instantly shuttered down. His eyes narrowed absently, and he still did not look at anyone in the room.
“There is nothing granted by the powers in this room that I could possibly want.” An iceberg had more warmth than the Doctor's voice at that moment.
Jamie held his breath, thinking his heart was beating too loudly. “Aye, but there's still unfinished business on Earth. Perhaps we should make sure it's all settled?”
The small man's mouth suddenly twitched up. “Quite right, Jamie.” He almost purred. “There is the small matter of the remnants of the Sontaran project. All under UNIT possession now. They're splendid fellows but I dislike the idea of advanced alien technology sitting about on a Level Five planet...even if said technology is a pile of burned-out bits in their Vault.”
“Huh. Ye just cannae stand unfinished business.” Jamie scoffed, folded his arms over his chest.
“It is my favorite failing.” They grinned into each other's eyes. The Doctor looked at Skide dead in the face, still smiling. “That would work. Let us finish tying up those loose ends...see how far Dastari's tissue sample experiments got, and get the Sontaran relics back where they belong-in custody.”
“My apologies, everyone, but the Doctor has gone over his authority.” Madame Supervisor had risen to her feet. “The fates of his Companions are under the CIA's jurisdiction.” She glared at him. “Your attempt to arrange their escape is quite transparent.”
The Doctor rose to his feet wearily, and tilted his head up to look down his nose at the tall woman. “I wouldn't dream of manipulating events to get what I wish.” He said evenly. “If you can find two better-suited candidates for the healing of Chimera, by all means do so. I for one, wish to meet these paragons of virtue with my own two eyes.” His smile grew deadly. “And you'll note, I never asked. I merely suggested.”
“At any rate, we have already unanimously decided in the Doctor's favor.” Skide looked at Madame Supervisor with very little love. “If they are indeed under your authority, you must welcome the chance to be rid of more parolees.”
“This is not decided!” She protested.
“It is.”
Everyone shuddered and looked at the Tribunal standing in the corner.
“For this matter the Tribunal waived our authority in order to give those most affected by the tragedy of Chimera, the power to heal. And the Doctor is correct about Zoe Heriot. In our attempt to restore the Timeline of the young human, we strangled her natural development, and that of her world. There are two 21st century Timelines now. Hers goes nowhere; it is inert. A Parallel Universe awaits on the other side of this Timeline by only the merest membrane. Placing her in a proper growth environment is an acceptable redress. If she so chooses to take this opportunity.” The tallest Tribunal member tipped his head to one side. “If Gallifrey is to remain responsible for all of its citizens, it should see to the needs of the Outsiders and Shobogans, not just those who dwell in the Citadel. Chimera must be supported so that all of our peoples have the chance to explore the rest of the Universe.”
Unsaid but known was the sad fact that the technologically arrested Outsiders had all the freedom to leave, while the Time Lords and those within the Citadel did not. They were chained by their own noble caste to remain on-planet save severe circumstances.
“I'm sure I can explain it to her.” The Doctor smiled. “I...and Jamie.”
“Then it will be done.”
Outsider Narvin and Markhall were smiling. “Never play Sepulchasm with a Deca,” Markhall quoted to his duaghter. “Do you see, my dear?”
“Yes, sir.”
The Doctor stood slowly. Jamie helped him. “I shall leave you now and take some rest. What I have stated are my wishes, nothing more. It would be good to see Chimera restored. I bid you goodnight.”
__________
Neither man spoke on the way back to the oubliette. Jamie could have been floating on a cloud for all he cared. He bubbled, thinking of their reunion with Zoe and Victoria. He beamed. He could have skipped but he did have some semblance of dignity and they weren't alone just yet where he could start on the whooping and hollaring. A shivaree of dignity-free celebration was scheming its way through his mind before he realized his companion hadn't said a single word since leaving the Meeting-Room.
“What is it, Doctair? Are ye all right?”
“Right enough, Jamie-thank you.” The little Time Lord smiled at him, shifting his arm in its sling. “How do you feel?”
“I feel fine. Now that we're going tae see the lasses again-even better.”
“Those 'lasses' would prefer to be called ladies, you know.”
“Och, ye can get away wi' callin' em “Dear Child!” Why can't I call 'em lasses and lassies?”
“Jamie, I can call you 'Dear Child' if I wish-there are a few centuries between us!” The Doctor chuckled lightly as he held out his wrist to the scanner. They transmatted into their rooms and collectively shared a breath of relief.
“Thank the Lord. It's over.”
“Until the next time.” The Time Lord said gloomily. “I say we wash up and get some sleep. I want to be up and ready when they approve our flight plan back to Earth.”
“I'll nae argue.” Jamie said fervently. He promptly showered and threw himself into the heated water of the man-made pool. A few dozen laps and his entire body tingled from scalp to sole. Bliss.
The Piper closed his eyes and floated on his back in the warm, salted water (simulated to resemble the one and only “ocean” on Gallifrey, but if you asked him, it was more like a brown pond full of salt water-something perhaps suited to eels and oysters, but they had neither on Gallifrey. There was bacteria in this water that Gallifreyans were supposed to keep in contact with; Jamie had made an honest effort to study it, and finally realized that whilst humans ate foods like cultured milk and vegetables, Gallifreyans did neither; they simply kept up contact with the waters of their origin...
Where is he???
His eyes snapped open. Normally the Doctor would be here, submerged until Jamie would panic and dive down to yank him to the surface. It was a semi-serious game they played, but they always played it.
He probably forgot again, all caught up in his business... Jamie grumbled to himself and pulled out, dried off almost instantly in the Gallifreyan-arid climate, and shrugged into a pair of Tartan trousers, determined to track down the Doctor and see to it get at least took a trip to the steam-house before bed.
He was opening the door, mouth parting for a scold, when he froze up and backed into the shadows.
The little Time Lord was standing stock-still in the center of the room, head down and hands clenched about his temples. His eyes were closed as his face clenched shut.
And, heart pounding, Jamie actually heard the Cold Voice as soon as the door opened.
___________
...You overplayed your hand, Doctor.
Jamie shook like a leaf at the feel of that mind in the room. He had never before sensed more than what a common human was capable of; this was different. What had happened? Had he changed?
Answer, Doctor.
The Doctor was far too tired to react quickly. He stopped and stood unmoving for a long moment as the moment slipped away.
“I am doing the best I can.” He said at last in the cold air of the empty room. His voice was heavy as lead. “I don't expect you to understand it. But I am doing the best I can.”
“You will have your rest, and you may have your dreren with you. But after this you will not see them again.”
Deren. Toy children. Play children. The Time Lord-voice was accusing the Doctor of seeking a transparent solace in lesser beings because he no longer had his real children. Jamie's gorge heaved and it was all he could do to hold still.
“I rather expected that much.” The Doctor said quietly. “The only thing I couldn't figure out was...the when.” He bowed his head again.
You are clever, Doctor, but you are not as clever as I. I have lived many more centuries than you, and I know you far too well.
“Did I ever say I was more clever than you?” The Doctor snapped hotly. “Did I ever?”
...No. I grant you you did not.
And on that last note...the cold voice slipped away, like a ghaist melting in a sunbeam.
The Doctor turned his back from the emptiness and the two stared into each other's faces. The Piper impulsively ran over and wrapped the other man in his arms, feeling the strength tremble in that terribly tired body.
“Ye did it.” Jamie said through his tears. “Ye did it, Doctair. They'll be free o' the CIA forever.”
“At last.” The Doctor said into the Piper's shoulder. “At long...long...last.”
“But don't,” Jamie scolded, 'Ye be thinkin' ye'll get rid of me so easily!”
The Doctor made a strange sound, a laugh mixed with a sob. “I don't think I could, Jamie.” He said honestly.
“Och, I'm bein' foolish.” Jamie choked. “They'll try tae get me away from ye, won't they?”
“So long as they need me to do their dirty work for them...no.” The Doctor closed his eyes against the fabric of Jamie's shirt. “They're not so foolish as to take away their most reliable bargaining chip.” He shuddered at the thought. “It's going to be dangerous, Jamie. More than ever.”
“Ye daft little man, it's always been dangerous. Life is dangerous. It's not worth livin' if ye're not true tae yerself.”
“Quite right, Jamie.” He answered dully. But he couldn't bring himself to move. “I mean it. We've always been on borrowed time, but now it will be more than ever.”
“It's worth it.” Jamie said firmly. “Don't we all live on Borrowed Time?”
“Time Lords.” The Doctor sighed. “We glimpse the paths of Time; we can sense outcomes and what-ifs.”
“Sounds awful.”
“But lately...” The Doctor took a deep breath, still holding on to Jamie for all he was worth. “Jamie, I've never been very...aware of the Temporal possibilities. And this model's the least aware of all. I operate on a...subconscious level more than anything. It's kept me alive because it kept me from being too predictable. But lately...” He took another deep breath and held it in. “Lately it's gotten worse.”
The Threads of my Time are Tightening.
Jamie heard the Doctor's soft voice in his mind again, and with it, an impression: a figure connected to the Universe with glowing wires made of light, opposing ends stretching in all possible directions and lengths. Most of the threads were vibrant; healthy looking and hummed a melody the Piper wished he could fully hear.
But not all the threads were healthy, and not all sang. A handful of lines were thin and small, their glow weakened and sickly. They had no music, but a low whimper of distress; a tuning fork off the true. They shivered and trembled and strained to hold on.
What are they? Jamie asked, afraid he already knew the answer.
The oldest Threads in my Timestream. If they ever Sunder, I will be changed from the...person you know.”
Jamie's heart slipped halfway up his throat. He had almost heard the Doctor say, “I will be changed from the Doctor you know,” but the little man had been afraid to use the word. He was afraid he would no longer be the Doctor?
How can this be? He asked.
The longer I work outside my natural Timestream, the more the strain. They're fully aware of this, and justify it as a means to the end. Very results-oriented. The Doctor swallowed hard; Jamie felt the movement against his body. They could completely sever me from my Timestream if they wanted...they could always put me back, heal the damage...but I can't believe I'd be the same.
They're using you up. Jamie realized.
Until I die.
What aboo' yer Future Selves? Won't they be affected?
The Future's already happened, Jamie. It's going on, even though technically I was force-regenerated centuries ago. I'm falling apart because they haven't let me return to merge with my natural events...and they can still influence what my future selves remember and feel of me. And to be honest, I doubt they can return me anyway. I've worked too long for them. Even with my memories wiped, if they put me back into the Temporal Stream, I risk contaminating my Future Selves on what I know...what I've done. They can't risk it. No, I'm dying, Jamie. It's only a matter of when.
Yer body, ye mean. But never yer soul, Doctor. Never your soul.
How much of a soul will I have left when they're finished with me?
Never say that. Jamie held on tight. The Doctor was not overly taller or heavier, but the sheer weight of his age made him feel that way. Explain this. What does it mean to be Sundered?
It means being cut away from my past and future selves save in the faintest terms. They'll remember me but in the same way you remember a half-forgotten dream...or a nightmare. That's all I'll be to them. A memory...of a memory...of a memory. If I'm lucky, a part of me has already survived so that I can live on, tap into this broken timestream I live on...and from there...connect to my selves.
But what about the you that you are right noo? What will happen to you?
I don't know. The Sundered are rare, Jamie. Rare and...pitied. An example to frighten children into good behavior. Most go mad or...they simply vanish.
But ye won't, will ye? Not ye?
Jamie, how do I know?
Jamie thought fast. Ye won't if ye can help it, surely.
But if I have nothing to anchor to...I can't help it.
Ye've got us. Jamie urged frantically. Doctair...please. Ye have us. Even if we canna remember ye, it canna last. And ye mean sae much to us all. Dinnae not say ye'll gae back tae the Cauldron tae be remade like so much iron.
What you're saying...I don't know if it's possible.
An' when has that ever stopped ye from trying?
For some reason, that got Jamie a laugh. He relished the victory and held tight.