I have been gone for far too long.
I don't know why I would have neglected ihasatardis or LJ so long, but it's about time I returned. There's also that fanfic I was writing... I wonder if anyone on ihasatardis remembers it. If they don't, I don't blame them. I've spent most of the summer, after having watched the entirety of Series Fnarg at least once over, travelling, roleplaying, and becoming immersed in the worlds of Labyrinth and The Phantom of the Opera. Now, I wonder if I could cross over all three of those in my next macro (if and when it appears).
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The sound of heavy boot steps and artificial breathing seemed to precede the dark, caped figure wherever he walked. Now was no different; even when muffled by the sounds of the guards flanking him, Lord Vader’s mask remained audible over everything. He neither knew nor cared how long it had taken to reach this segment of the cell block; they all looked the same to him. Besides, as far as he knew, they had been designed to be inescapable. Still, worry tickled the back of his mind that perhaps the man he’d observed earlier had found some clever way out. It relieved him, then, to note no signs of damage to the door as it was opened by the prison guard, and to see that the occupant remained inside. What was perplexing, however, was to see the prisoner’s previously pensive expression change to a welcoming one as Vader and a mind probe entered.
It would be so simple just to sonic the door open, wouldn’t it? Actually, the Doctor had tried several times to do so, with the sonic screwdriver at varying strengths on each attempt. All had been futile-though one try had caused sparks to fly from the inner circuitry and burn holes in his bowtie. The people here didn’t know what a deadlock was-but then, neither had the poor Kaleds who’d built Davros’ underground bunker. He hadn’t been able to get out of that, either. Eventually, after the initial period of experimentation here, he had become resigned to the fact that the sonic screwdriver simply couldn’t open some doors, and begun to formulate another means of escape.
He was interrupted in his musings by the hissing noise that meant the door had opened, unfortunately unbidden by himself. Even had he not looked up to see who had entered, anyone would recognise the ominous sound of Darth Vader’s life-support mask. The Doctor ventured a nearly imperceptible smile; he’d been eager to meet the Emperor’s right-hand man ever since the first, more accommodating visit here. As he recalled, Vader had been busy on another ship that day.
“Hello,” he said, and then remembered too late that he wasn’t in the cell for small talk. Indeed, the presence of a rather rudimentary-looking mind probe (no, not the mind probe!) was enough evidence to tell the Time Lord he was here for questioning. The smile vanished as quickly as it had come; the air around him had suddenly become very austere. Smugly, the Doctor noted how easily a mind probe of its calibre could be confused by a higher mind-the people here underestimated him. Good.
Even with the mask obfuscating his features, there was no mistaking the annoyed tone to Vader’s voice when he stated what was blatantly obvious: this was an interrogation, not teatime. Then, of course, began the inevitable onslaught of questions. The mind probe seemed almost excited as it glided toward the prisoner before it. What it found, however, would not all be true; that which was would be incomprehensible.
“Who are you and where do you come from?” demanded Lord Vader.
“I’m the Doctor, and if my friend were here, I’d love to introduce her,” replied the alien with a little too much cheer. Usually, it was better that way-telling unbelievable truths too seriously had got him and his companions into trouble before. The floating, spherical robot seemed to disagree with this notion, because the red lights on it began to flicker in warning.
“I won’t ask again; who are you?” Vader, as well, appeared to be growing agitated with his flippancy, as well as unable to believe the answer he had just received. The only good side to this was a delay in Amy’s cross-examination; he only hoped it wasn’t already happening. The Doctor hated the thought of his friend being hurt. With more false affability, he easily repeated his answer.
“I’m the Doctor. I travel in time and space.” Any fool would know there was far more to the truth than what he had given away, but the Doctor wasn’t about to let anyone know that. “The Emperor owes me an apology, by the way.”
“What do you know of the Emperor?” enquired Vader sternly. Had the mind probe been anything more than an overcomplicated lie detector, it, too, might have begun to display stronger signs of trouble. Instead, it persisted even more doggedly than before in attempting to find proof of this inside his memory, which he promptly blocked from any more intrusion.
“He tried to kill me once, because I didn’t let him win our little game of chess.” The probe beeped once, and a light on it flashed from red to blue. Good-he was confusing it. It and its ilk tended to be programmed by people who assumed their prisoners would lie, and that they would not have mind power anywhere near that of the Time Lords. “I don’t think you were there on that occasion.”
The lights on the probe began flickering dangerously fast, threatening to do something very nasty to the Doctor if he didn’t begin talking sense. Unfortunately, the alien did not heed this warning.
“By the way,” he added, “if you’re telekinetic, why do you need a mind probe?” Had there been nothing obscuring Vader’s countenance, one might have noted a distinct look of anger twisting his already disfigured features as he clenched the fingers of one hand into a tight circular shape while applying a powerful choking force on the Doctor’s windpipe. The emotion seemed to radiate from him nonetheless; a fact the quickly asphyxiating Time Lord was having trouble believing he could still register when his mind was fully concentrated on bypassing his respiratory system in order to stay alive and conscious. Instinctively, his hands made fruitless clutching motions at the thin air that was busying itself trying not to enter his lungs, but instead block any access to them.
“I ask the questions, Doctor, and take great offence at your doubt in the power of the Force,” Vader half-growled, and released him unceremoniously. The alien gasped for air and massaged his throat gingerly. “Now, you will answer quickly and directly, or I will not be as merciful the next time.”