dwsanta fic: In the Spotlight (Doctor Who, PG, gen)
...I'd ask people to name my inspirations for the OCs if they weren't painfully obvious. For the record, never let Ayami Haya into your story if you don't want her taking over and putting her hands on the lead.
Title: In the spotlight
Fandom: Doctor Who (11 era)
Characters: Amy, Rory, Eleven, OCs and OGs
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Summary: When she's hauled in front of a planetary overlord, with the Doctor and Rory thrown into a dungeon, Amy has to rely on her wits to get off the planet.
Notes: All resemblance between OCs and real people is mostly intentional.
Word Count: ~6,000
Poster by: fyrie ♥
Amy Pond didn't deal well with planetary overlords. She ended up putting her foot in at the best of times, and the best of times didn't include being arrested and dragged halfway across the city to a towering fortress, while the Doctor and Rory were hauled somewhere else. She wasn't sure where. She'd been too busy trying to unlock her own handcuffs, only to have them taken off before she was shoved into this room.
The planetary overlord was sitting back in an armchair in front of her, flanked by two officers in uniform. It was tempting to call the chair a throne, but thrones didn't have worn plush and a fraying seam where someone had rubbed their knuckles a few times too many. She wondered if Lord Tomas knew that he was contributing to his favourite chair's look of shabby deterioration.
"Your name," Lord Tomas ordered.
"Amy Pond." She wished she could ask him the same, but it was hard to miss the official portraits in the train station where they'd parked the TARDIS, the angular face above the ornate letters of the title. Or in the shops they went to, for all of three blocks before the cops descended. "And why am I here?"
"I meant to ask you that question." Lord Thomas rested one ankle over his knee, the leather of his high boots creaking. "Three aliens arrive in our capital city, in an advanced time machine that is still defying attempts to open it. What was your intention?"
Amy shrugged. "We're sightseeing. Uh, your crafts? They're good crafts. We'd have bought some, if your guys didn't come up to us and try to bash us over the head."
Lord Tomas smiled faintly. One of the officers flanking his chair leaned over to whisper something. The overlord's hand came up, fingers brushing the bare wrist of the officer's gloved hand. It looked like they were talking without words.
Aliens, Amy reminded herself. It was easy to forget, because they all looked like handsome men - mostly men, at most angles - and the study they were in had all the calligraphy maps and edged weapons you'd expect from a pretentious dictator in a James Bond movie. But the Doctor had said they were aliens, and their food tasted weird.
The other officer was watching her with a grin that she didn't like. She tried an imperious glare, but that just made the grin widen.
"Why me?" she demanded. "Why am I the only one up here?"
Lord Tomas looked at the older of the officers, the one with the bleached hair. "Shio?"
Shio's grin was sharper than the other guy's leer. "You declared yourself to be in charge."
Amy was sure she'd meant just in charge of - shopping. Mostly.
"Until you reveal your intentions and origin, you will be my guest," Lord Tomas said.
"And my friends? What happens to them?"
"They will be guests, too." The leering guy shrugged. "In the dungeons."
Amy rolled her eyes. She didn't care if they noticed.
"Haya," Lord Tomas said. "Escort my new guest to her quarters. She will be in your care until the evening."
Amy fixed the overlord with a glare as Haya approached with an even wider leer. This wasn't playing fair.
***
"A dungeon," Rory announced. "We're in a dungeon."
"Yes, Rory. I haven't noticed." The Doctor was bent over the lock on the door of their cell. He would be having more luck if he had his sonic screwdriver rather than a skewer of wood from a broken chair on the floor.
"There are torches. And chains on the wall," Rory observed.
"Shackles. Ouch!"
The Doctor barely managed to jump away as the door was wrenched open. Another prisoner was thrown in, skidding across the straw-covered floor, then the door closed again. The key turned in the lock.
"Help me turn him over," Rory said.
He was kneeling by the new prisoner, already checking the man's head. Abandoning the door, the Doctor helped him turn the man onto his back. It was another native, this time with a shock of dark hair and a bloodied bandanna holding it up.
The smell of alcohol indicated that the natives liked the same kind of intoxicants as humans did.
"His skull's intact," Rory said. "I don't think the blood is his."
"You shoulda ssseen t'other guy..."
Wide dark eyes were blinking slowly. A curse escaped as Rory tilted the man's head into the torchlight.
"You shouldn't drink so much," Rory said. "You'll ruin your liver."
"Wassa liver?" The man struggled to sit up, then held out his hand. "Fael."
"Rory." Rory tried to keep to his stern nurse tone. "And this is the Doctor."
The Doctor waved his fingers. "Hello."
Fael's attempt to get up was defeated by an obviously wrenched shoulder. His yelps as Rory set it were very impressive. The Doctor watched them from his perch on the stone parapet of a barred window.
"This is not a coherent planet," he announced. "You have interstellar space ships, non-polluting means of transport and mass-produced clothing, but you throw your prisoners into stone cells with torches and iron doors?"
"It's supposed to be scary," Fael muttered, testing out his arm. "Wait. Planet? You're not from here?"
"No," the Doctor agreed cheerfully. "We're interstellar visitors. Tourists. Who got knocked out and kidnapped the moment we set foot on your planet. It's great for tourism. I'll be sure to write a guidebook for this planet."
"Do not come here if you don't like headaches?" Rory offered.
"Exactly!"
"It's Tomas," Fael muttered. "No visitors allowed. Permits to get out. Xenophobic bastard. Him and his party."
The Doctor and Rory exchanged looks.
"Let me?" Rory asked.
The Doctor swept his arm around. "Feel free."
"You don't like the guy in charge?" Rory waved his hand in front of Fael's face to get his attention. "You know other people who don't like him? You're maybe with the - resistance, conspiracy, opposition?"
Fael's eyebrows pulled together. "Are you guys spies?"
"Aha!" The Doctor jumped to his feet. "That's what he thinks! That's why we've been captured and put in this prison!"
"Dungeon."
"Yes, thank you, Rory. Now, we could plan an escape, get to the TARDIS, and leave. Or I could prove to this Tomas just why no-one tries this with me and walks away-" The Doctor trailed off. "Walks away, anyway. I'm sure I'll have a plan. Why don't I have a plan yet?"
Fael tugged on Rory's arm. "Did I have a bottle on me when they threw me in?"
Rory shook his head.
"Damn."
***
Fortunately for the safety of Amy's nail polish, Haya frowned and hurried off the moment they got to the door of the room that was supposed to be hers. There was a meal prepared, and she took the chance to eat while coming up with ways to convince Tomas that they weren't a danger. Or ways to throw him out of the window. That would work just as well.
A knock on the door distracted her just as she had a plan for the latter.
"Are you decent?" a bright, boyish voice asked.
Amy looked down on her dusty shirt and trousers. "Mostly."
"Damn," the newcomer said cheerfully as he opened the door. He was wearing a less ornate version of the same uniform as Hay and Shio, carrying a bundle of clothing in one hand and high boots in the other, and under a haystack of brown hair he was grinning widely. "I was counting on not."
Amy raised her eyebrows.
"But you'll have to," the boy continued. "I mean, I've got new clothes for you. Which are very good. I chose them. Just like Master Haya would. I mean, they're the clothes that Master Haya would have chosen if there hadn't been that trouble at the prison."
"There's trouble at the prison?" Amy seized on the mention. It sounded like her boys.
"Clothes," the boy said firmly. "I've got everything you need. I'm Ren. What's your name? You've got great hair."
"Amy. Amy Pond."
Ren frowned. "Ami? Can I call you Ami? That's smoother."
"Amelia." Amy grinned. It was like talking to a teenage version of the Doctor.
"A-mi-lia," Ren repeated. "That's really pretty."
She held out her hands. "Gimme."
Reluctantly, he handed over the clothes. "I could help you put them on?"
"Sit," she ordered. "Stay."
Ren looked disappointed as she headed behind a folding screen. The room was cluttered with these screens, as well as armchairs, coffee tables and flower stands. It looked like a Victorian drawing room put together by someone who loved costume dramas.
Amy decided to keep her underwear, but the rest of her clothes was dusty and torn anyway, so she might as well go with it. The knee-high toe-socks were soft, made of some kind of supple cotton warm enough that she decided to get some of her own before leaving this planet. If they didn't leave at a run, as usual. The trousers were tight, and she bent down to pull on the high boots before buttoning the fly. Same principle as new jeans, right down to creaking with strain when she moved.
The shirt had sleeves that came down to her wrists, and room enough in the shoulders, but the front was another matter. Amy gave it a sharp tug, then marched out from behind the screen.
"I need a bigger shirt," she announced.
Ren's eyes were wide. "You could take it off," he offered.
Amy looked down, then swatted his hand as he reached for her bra. "No touching the merchandise."
"But if you take it off-"
She put her hands on her hips. "It's not a push-up bra. That's all me."
Ren looked impressed, until Amy took a step forward and her trousers tore at the back seam.
Three sets of clothes later, they settled on judicious use of scarves and pins that let the breeches and shirt be unbuttoned without actually exposing flesh. Amy was even able to sit down while Ren attacked her hair with a strange-smelling spray and jewelled pins.
"You'll look very good at the dinner," Ren assured her.
"What dinner?"
"Lord Tomas wants to have you for dinner. I mean, have dinner with you. In the big dining room on top of the tower. I took documents for Master Haya there once," Ren confided. "The view's fantastic."
"Does it have big windows?" Amy asked idly.
"Very big. With reinforced glass."
She decided she needed a new plan.
"You're ready," Ren said. "You can look now."
A my stood up and took stock of herself in the mirror. With her hips and breasts disguised, her hair pinned up and something done to her makeup - she hadn't even noticed Ren doing it - she looked almost as androgynous as one of the natives. She wondered if maybe they weren't all guys as well, just less endowed than she was.
Ren wrapped his arm around her waist. His chin came up exactly to her shoulder. "You look good enough to eat."
"Down," she ordered.
The door swung open with a bang, and Ren gave a happy cry. He bounded up to Haya, and only a glare from the officer seemed to stop him from attempting a hug. "I dressed her!"
Amy turned around, meeting Haya's eyes. The officer was grinning again. "You'll do."
Then the floor swayed under their feet. Amy caught hold of the mirror, and something on Haya's belt let out a deafening beep.
***
The explosion interrupted Fael's attempt to teach Rory a five-card trick without any cards. It showered them in stone dust.
"Ah!" the Doctor exclaimed, pressing his ear to the door. "At last, something is happening!"
Fael shrugged. "No, it's not. It's just a diversion."
"A diversion for what?" Rory tried to make sense of the stone chips that were standing in for cards.
Fael retrieved the chips. "Our escape."
"I thought you said this is the most fearsome prison on the planet? And that no-one escaped?"
"Except revolutionists. And I'm a revolutionist." Fael dusted his trousers off, then attempted to do the same with his hair.
Rory sighed. "You didn't mention that."
The door lock clanked under assault. There was the sound of a muted but fervent argument on the other side.
Fael grabbed Rory and the Doctor by the collars and pulled them away just before a bullet blasted through the lock.
"Tor," he said simply. "No patience."
When the abused door swung open, it revealed two men dressed the same as Fael, in rugged and layered clothing in various kinds of brown, unlike the blue and black that looked popular in the capital.
"Tor," Fael pointed. "Hiro. Rory. Doctor."
"Is this when we say, take us to your leader?" Rory asked the Doctor.
"We need to get out first," Tor barked. His sharp jaw was set as he surveyed them. "Can you hold a gun?"
"I don't hold with guns," the Doctor said.
"Then stay the hell back!"
In the end, the guns weren't necessary. The corridors were full of all kinds of people running towards or away from the explosion, and a lot of them were taking great pains not to look too closely at armed men who shoved others out of the way. The only group they skirted was a crowd of soldiers in dark uniforms, who lined up at the door of an elevator. The moment the door opened, Tor swore and pushed the others behind a wall that the blast had partially collapsed.
The Doctor peered over Tor's shoulder, ignoring the revolutionist's gun. "That's Amy! Hello, Am-"
Tor went for the direct route of grabbing the Doctor's jaw. "You know that Amy?" he barked at Rory.
"Uh. She's my wife?" Rory tried stealing a look, only to get pushed back by Hiro.
"Prisoner," Hiro reported, peering over the wall. "Too many soldiers. And Haya. Later."
Rory frowned. "Promise?"
"She'll be all right," Fael murmured in his ear. "Hay likes that kind of shape."
"Amy'll probably put him to rights," Rory admitted. "She's good at that."
Tor tried to shake the gagged Doctor, who only increased his muffled complaints.
"We're getting out of here!"
***
Amy was waiting for Haya to get bored with keeping his hand locked around her arm. She was having no luck thus far, getting dragged from one dusty cell to another.
"What are you looking for, exactly?"
He grinned freely. "We are looking for your underlings. Who skipped the joint with Tor's pet drunk. I thought we wouldn't hold on to him, but I'll make sure to make life very unpleasant for the idiot who put him in with the dangerous aliens."
Amy didn't stop her own grin. She could count on her boys to think of something.
"And that's why you're going back upstairs with me," Haya added. "You're not getting out of my sight unless you're with Lord Tomas. Or maybe Shio. He gets his better days."
Amy kept smiling as he dragged her back to the elevator that had taken over ten minutes to bring them all the way down. She trusted the Doctor to have a plan. And Rory to remember her.
"What's next?" she asked.
The elevator beeped before opening for them. Something that looked this Victorian shouldn't really beep, she thought.
"For you? Dinner. Once we're upstairs." With the doors closed, Haya finally let go of her arm, though he didn't give her any more space. "Right now it's just you and me."
She weighed her chances. "You and me and ten minutes."
He leaned forward. "Ten minutes can be plenty of time."
Amy rolled her eyes.
"I like your hair," Haya offered. "Like fire. And your shapes. Not a lot of people here get that - generous."
"I'm not interested."
"I could make you interested."
She didn't manage to stifle her snort. "Do those lines ever work on anyone?"
Haya frowned. "They work plenty of times!"
Amy sighed. Then she grabbed Haya by the hair and kissed him. It wasn't unpleasant, even if he smelled of something - herbal. Alien, she reminded herself. It was easy to forget, with the ones that looked like humans. Alien.
"And that's all you're getting," she informed him, as he stared at her. "Now tell me about Lord Tomas. And whoever Tor is."
***
"You're not in charge," the Doctor said.
"It's easy," Rory explained, when Tor looked puzzled. "People who are in charge usually don't lead the rescue charge. At least not with just one person for backup. At least not if they're not him. Um."
The Doctor dismissed this with a wave of his hand. "So who's in charge?"
"Zora," Fael ventured from the floor. He was slumped against the bench that ran along the wall of the van, tinkering with a beaten-up guitar, while Hiro drove. "He's got a plan."
"You'll see him," Tor said. "If there are aliens spying on our planet, Zora needs to know about it."
"Why?"
Rory looked at the Doctor, frowning. "But we're not-"
"Quiet, Rory, thinking. Why does everyone assume we're spying? It makes sense for the military dictatorship, they assume that everyone is spying, but you people? Why this connection between aliens and spies? How do you know we're aliens anyway? We look exactly like you."
Rory wanted to venture that quite possibly, they were less stylish.
"You smell different," Fael offered. "And you keep asking questions about obvious things. That's a clue?"
Tor folded his arms. "Aliens don't go outside the spaceport. It's an old deal. We don't go into space, they leave us alone here."
"Why?"
Rory decided that Tor's expression was reminding him of Amy just before someone got knocked over. That was never a good sign.
"We're not spies," he said quickly. "And I think we're on your side? I mean, you're revolutionaries. Freedom and glory and down with the dictatorship. We're all for that."
That made Tor shift from annoyed to confused, which was progress. "What do you mean?"
"Uh, revolutionaries? Doesn't that mean you want to change things? A revolution?"
"No?" Fael was looking just as puzzled. "It's from things that revolve. Tomas's party is now in power, and we want it to be our party. Ouch."
"Lord Zora's party," Tor corrected, pulling his foot back. "This is another thing you don't know about us. When a party is deposed, they become revolutionaries."
"So there are two sides?" the Doctor asked.
"Four," Fael said. "Maybe five. If Comu counts."
Tor snorted. "Comu doesn't count."
Fael strummed a chord. "Tell that to her face."
Rory turned to the Doctor. "How are we going to get the TARDIS back? And help Amy?"
"Thinking," the Doctor said. "Trying to think. This planet doesn't make sense, and yet it does. I'm missing something, something I used to know. Something here is familiar."
"It all looks a bit like some rooms in the TARDIS," Rory ventured. "And it looks like there's less technology here than there actually is."
"The smell. I remember the smell." The Doctor shook his head. "Let's try talking them into another rescue."
***
There had been a small emergency with the scarves, and Haya and Ren had too much fun dressing her again, but Amy managed to reach the dining room without much incident. She duly kept her hand on Haya's arm until she stepped over the threshold.
Left alone in the darkened room with the most powerful person on the planet, she wished she could keep Haya there for the conversation. What did you say to someone who ordered his enemies walled in alive?
"Try the wine," Lord Tomas said. "We are proud of it."
"You know that my - boys aren't in jail anymore." Amy speared a random bite of meat with her fork.
"They're on their way to a revolutionary base. It was never my intention to use them as leverage," he added. "I simply wished to talk to you at leisure."
She gestured with her fork. "We're talking."
"You have had time to experience more of our culture. What do you think of it?"
Amy eyed the meat, then put it down carefully. She needed wine first to eat something with purple patterns all over it. "You're pretending to have less technology than you do. You've got a lot people who have way too much energy. Lots of touching. And some weird thing going on with gender."
He nodded with an approving half-smile on that aquiline face. "Gender is a matter of choice for us. You are a talented spy."
"I'm not a spy!"
"Observer, then. And you will later tell someone what you have observed."
She took up the wine. It saved her from answering.
"There are things that I would have you tell," Lord Tomas said. "Eat. Then we will take a walk."
She managed half of her plate and two glasses of the light wine that smelled a little like apple blossoms. Lord Tomas dealt with the rest of the bottle, and with each glass his gestures grew more expansive.
"But enough of it." He stood up suddenly, breaking off a monologue on the aesthetic of local painting styles. "I promised you a walk. Will the lady take my arm?"
Amy put down her glass before getting up. "The lady might."
The sleeve of his jacket was soft under her hand. He was shorter than Haya - shorter than her, maybe, give or take the heeled boots everyone wore here - but he seemed to take up more room just by the way he walked.
Through a short corridor, they came to a series of guarded doors. Behind the last of them, there was a vast hangar filled with dozens of gleaming metal shapes.
Amy looked around. "You built a space fleet?"
"Tell this to your masters," Tomas said. He turned towards her, his fingers tracing the line of her chin. "Tell them that we will no longer beg for trade, or accept the confines of this planet. Tell them that we will take by force whatever we wish to take. Tell them that our internal struggles no longer limit us. I am here to stay."
Amy tried to pull her hand away from his arm, her fingers trapped against his side. "You want people to know that you're going to attack them?"
He leaned forward, his lips almost brushing her ear. There was that herbal scent again.
"I want them to fear."
One of the ships emitted a piercing, pulsing sound. Amy jumped, and Tomas let go of her.
"You are free to go," he said. "Your vessel will be returned to you. Recover your men and leave this planet."
Amy folded her arms. "I have no idea where they are."
"Haya will assist you."
"Does that mean I can give him orders?"
Tomas nodded. Amy smiled.
***
In the hideout - if you could call a giant mansion a hideout - Rory took up a seat beside Fael, on the floor. It was a strategic position, really. It meant he wasn't in the line of fire.
"It will be a blot on the face of your enemy," the Doctor argued. "A great achievement! A small gesture that will get you ahead of everyone else."
"You're still talking of marching into Tomas's private quarters to rescue your ship and your woman." Zora was a little older than his fighters, with similar refined features made more fragile by age. He hadn't moved from his chair yet. "Most of all, of risking and losing the lives of my men for you."
"A fine sentiment," the Doctor agreed. "But if you listen to my plan, no-one has to die at all."
Rory felt the ground shake first. "Doctor!"
The sound came next, and by the time the TARDIS materialised, half a dozen revolutionaries had their guns out.
"It's all right!" the Doctor announced. "This is our ship. And our Amy," he added.
The door opened, and Amy waved at them. She was still wearing something like a local military uniform, her hair pulled back.
Then a grinning guy waved from behind her, and all the guns went up again.
"Whoa!" Amy called out. "That's mine. For the moment. Haya'll behave, won't you?"
"Yes, sir." Haya was looking at Amy with something like adoration.
She ran to Rory first. He caught her and was subjected to a kiss. "Are you all right?"
"Me?" She was laughing. "You were the one who got blown up!"
"You got kidnapped!"
"That was nothing." She turned to the Doctor and administered a hug. "Did you get in trouble?"
"Not for lack of trying." He sniffed her. "Huh. Strange. Okay, we're leaving!"
"No, we're not," she informed him. "Tomas wants to take over the galaxy. I want to stop him."
"How?" Zora got to his feet, walking past Haya as idly as if the officer was a potted plant. "He doesn't have ships."
"He built them," Amy said. "At least a hundred of them. You must be Zora. You're supposed to be smart. How do we take him down?"
Zora was already nodding. Rory thought that he was really proud of his wife.
"Yachiyo," Zora said.
"We're not supposed to talk to Yachiyo," Hiro ventured from his station to one side of Zora's chair. "No-one is."
"This is important enough." Zora gestured to all three of them. "Come with me."
***
The mansion they arrived at was no different from Zora's headquarters, except for the overgrowth of vines all over it. It looked like no-one had been taking care of the garden for decades.
"So this Yachiyo's in charge?" Rory asked Zora. Talking beat worrying about the thoughtful look on the Doctor's face, and Amy was whispering with that guy she had brought along.
"Yachiyo is the oldest of the ancestors," Zora said. "And the rules are Yachiyo's rules."
"Rules?"
"We stay on the planet. We do not fight with aliens. We do not build ships." Zora's jaw was set. "I don't know what Tomas would have us become, but it's not the way that things should be."
The stone steps were dusty, but untouched. The great doors creaked as they opened without any apparent intervention.
Rory thought the grand hallway was empty, until lights came on upstairs. They could only see the silhouette as Yachiyo descended, each step set to an unheard music, the hems of the dark robe whispering.
Zora and his guards bowed low.
Up close, Yachiyo did not look much older than anyone else Rory had seen on the planet, except for the dark eyes lined with kohl.
"Welcome," he said, or maybe she said. There was really no telling. "Welcome, Zora. Tor. Hiro." The dark eyes moved over them. "Time Lord."
The Doctor ran forward, frowning. "Do I know you? I know you, don't I? Yachi- Ah-ha!" He stepped back, smiling brilliantly. "Great perception filter, by the way. Or is it shape-shifting?"
"Shape-shifting," Yachiyo agreed. "I think you remember this form."
The pale skin merged into leaves and vines that twisted into a humanoid smile. The dark eyes remained just as dark.
"That explains things," Amy muttered at Rory's shoulder. "Haya, if you're a plant, why did you compare my hair to fire?"
"I like playing with it?" Haya whispered back.
Rory shushed them, because just then Yachiyo returned to the previous form and embraced the Doctor.
"You're looking good," the Doctor said. "Very leafy. Why this form?"
"You left us a Time Lord library. The shapes looked interesting. And I decided to follow the principles we devised."
He turned in a circle around Yachiyo. "So you did it! Turned the most feared infestation in the universe - the loveliest parasites, I assure you, hurtling their seeds through space and infesting planets that they turned into bases for further conquest, finally eating them whole in their quest for destruction - into a peaceful people with a great culture and frankly marvellous crafts!"
Rory cleared his throat. "Peaceful people who blow each other up," he ventured.
The Doctor waved his hand. "Details. You should have seen them earlier. How much earlier?"
Yachiyo was smiling. "Eight centuries, old friend. And your new face looks well."
"It's been a while." He snapped his fingers. "And we need your help. Well, Amy needs your help. She's got it in her head to stop your people from becoming an interstellar infestation again."
Yachiyo turned to her. Up close, the smile was overwhelming. "Then you shall have my help."
"It's Tomas," Zora said. "We will need to get into the Lord's Tower-"
"Haya will help with that part," Amy said. "Won't you, Haya?"
Haya saluted to Amy, then again to Yachiyo. "Yes, sir!"
***
They left the Doctor and Rory with the TARDIS in the spaceport. Yachiyo had insisted, probably speaking from experience. Amy guessed that a hyperactive Time Lord wasn't very helpful when you were disciplining your kid. Sapling. Something.
"So the whole system - the factions, parties, revolutionaries, that's all you?" she asked as they walked to Tomas's quarters. "Just to keep everyone busy and not conquering the universe?"
She and Haya were allowed in the tower anyway. Yachiyo and Zora wore hooded cloaks.
"It allows power to be shared among all who are worthy of it," Yachiyo said. "And it lets the rest of the population to get on with their lives in peace. The system works."
"Except for Tomas."
"Except for the ones who have too much time in power. I shall have a talk with Comu," Yachiyo added cryptically. "She gave up power too easily."
"There was gossip," Haya offered. "But it wasn't really anatomically possible."
Yachiyo made an idle gesture that reminded Amy of the way Tomas moved, distilled through eight - more? - centuries of experience. "I shall have a talk."
"I guess it makes for an interesting life," Amy said. "There's always something happening. You don't get bored, even if it's all just on one planet."
"One doesn't," Yachiyo agreed.
At the doors they came to, Haya took over. The guards were cowed quickly, but that only got them into the antechamber.
Shio, Tomas's second in command, was napping on a chair by the inner door. He woke with a start and reached for his gun.
Yachiyo took down the hood of the robe. The officer bowed low.
"It is Tomas's time," Yachiyo said. "We must talk."
"I serve him," Shio said. "But I serve the Sien first."
"Sien?" Amy whispered to Haya.
He looked uncomfortable. "We don't really mention that name. You don't go calling yourself Time Lord, do you?"
"They did," she muttered. "I'm human, not Time Lord."
Zora silenced them with a look and followed Yachiyo into Tomas's chambers. Amy shrugged, then went after them. She stopped just behind the door, with Haya at her right and Shio at her left. A mirror of the way she had first seen Tomas, she thought.
Tomas was sitting behind a heavy desk. A pen was still rolling across the surface, dropped when Yachiyo had entered.
"There are few rules of the trunk and the root," Yachiyo said. "But there is one that I wrote in the bark with the branches of my siblings' arms. The Sien do not go to war outside our race."
"We could," he said, rising slowly. "We could rule all of them. We're inventive, determined, ambitious. We're the perfect conqueror race!"
"And that is why we must not."
Yachiyo raised a hand, and Tomas ran for the door. Zora tackled him to the floor.
They fought without sound, even breath held. Amy started forward, but Haya caught her arm, and she could only clutch her fists. Her fingernails pressed into her palms with each punch that Zora landed, until Tomas held up his arms.
Yachiyo stood over them, with the same kind smile. "It's time for you, Tomas. When you grow too great for this game, it is time. You will become an ancestor, with firm roots in the ground. All of this will seem like a dream."
Slowly, moving with pain, he took Yachiyo's hand. Then he folded down again, on his knees, crying against Yachiyo's robes.
Amy turned away. Zora was getting to his feet as well, pushing past them back to the antechamber.
"Is it over?" she asked.
Zora nodded. He took out a pillbox-shaped communicator. "Tomas's men will be in disarray. The revolution goes on."
There was the click of a gun's safety coming off.
"Not in that direction," Haya said apologetically. "Amy? If you step to the left, I can get a better shot. Thank you."
Zora stared at him. "Tomas is gone! You can't be hoping-"
"Tomas is gone, but Leon isn't." Haya was smiling ruefully. "And since you've been busy with all this, it'll be Lord Leon by this evening. Sorry. You took your eyes off the game board."
Amy rolled her eyes. "You guys are impossible. I want out of here."
Three other armed soldiers entered the room. One of them was Ren, who gave Amy a jaunty wave with the hand that wasn't holding a gun.
***
The Doctor was still sulking about missing the showdown, and Rory decided that the Sien planet was too confusing, so it was just Amy in front of the TARDIS, saying goodbye to her escort.
"You could come again," Haya said. "I really like your ship."
"It's the Doctor's ship." Amy smiled. "So you're a royal bodyguard again?"
Haya scowled. "That was boring. Nah, they're giving me recruits to train."
"To mold in your shape? That's really frightening." She laughed at his expression. "Thanks for the clothes. And everything."
"Thanks for the adventure."
The TARDIS door opened. The Doctor peered out. "Is this going to take all night?"
"We're ready," Rory echoed from behind him. "Amy?"
She nodded, turning back to the TARDIS.
Haya grabbed her and spun her around, tipping her backwards. The kiss was fiery, herb-scented, sending tingles all the way down to her toes.
She still knocked him on the ear with his fist. He dropped her, swearing, and she ran laughing to the TARDIS.
"Bye!" she called out, her arms around Rory.
The lights came on, and the deafening sound of the time machine taking off. She was still grinning all the way back to Earth.
Commemorative show programme (warning: 400KB image)
Title: In the spotlight
Fandom: Doctor Who (11 era)
Characters: Amy, Rory, Eleven, OCs and OGs
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Summary: When she's hauled in front of a planetary overlord, with the Doctor and Rory thrown into a dungeon, Amy has to rely on her wits to get off the planet.
Notes: All resemblance between OCs and real people is mostly intentional.
Word Count: ~6,000
Poster by: fyrie ♥
Amy Pond didn't deal well with planetary overlords. She ended up putting her foot in at the best of times, and the best of times didn't include being arrested and dragged halfway across the city to a towering fortress, while the Doctor and Rory were hauled somewhere else. She wasn't sure where. She'd been too busy trying to unlock her own handcuffs, only to have them taken off before she was shoved into this room.
The planetary overlord was sitting back in an armchair in front of her, flanked by two officers in uniform. It was tempting to call the chair a throne, but thrones didn't have worn plush and a fraying seam where someone had rubbed their knuckles a few times too many. She wondered if Lord Tomas knew that he was contributing to his favourite chair's look of shabby deterioration.
"Your name," Lord Tomas ordered.
"Amy Pond." She wished she could ask him the same, but it was hard to miss the official portraits in the train station where they'd parked the TARDIS, the angular face above the ornate letters of the title. Or in the shops they went to, for all of three blocks before the cops descended. "And why am I here?"
"I meant to ask you that question." Lord Thomas rested one ankle over his knee, the leather of his high boots creaking. "Three aliens arrive in our capital city, in an advanced time machine that is still defying attempts to open it. What was your intention?"
Amy shrugged. "We're sightseeing. Uh, your crafts? They're good crafts. We'd have bought some, if your guys didn't come up to us and try to bash us over the head."
Lord Tomas smiled faintly. One of the officers flanking his chair leaned over to whisper something. The overlord's hand came up, fingers brushing the bare wrist of the officer's gloved hand. It looked like they were talking without words.
Aliens, Amy reminded herself. It was easy to forget, because they all looked like handsome men - mostly men, at most angles - and the study they were in had all the calligraphy maps and edged weapons you'd expect from a pretentious dictator in a James Bond movie. But the Doctor had said they were aliens, and their food tasted weird.
The other officer was watching her with a grin that she didn't like. She tried an imperious glare, but that just made the grin widen.
"Why me?" she demanded. "Why am I the only one up here?"
Lord Tomas looked at the older of the officers, the one with the bleached hair. "Shio?"
Shio's grin was sharper than the other guy's leer. "You declared yourself to be in charge."
Amy was sure she'd meant just in charge of - shopping. Mostly.
"Until you reveal your intentions and origin, you will be my guest," Lord Tomas said.
"And my friends? What happens to them?"
"They will be guests, too." The leering guy shrugged. "In the dungeons."
Amy rolled her eyes. She didn't care if they noticed.
"Haya," Lord Tomas said. "Escort my new guest to her quarters. She will be in your care until the evening."
Amy fixed the overlord with a glare as Haya approached with an even wider leer. This wasn't playing fair.
***
"A dungeon," Rory announced. "We're in a dungeon."
"Yes, Rory. I haven't noticed." The Doctor was bent over the lock on the door of their cell. He would be having more luck if he had his sonic screwdriver rather than a skewer of wood from a broken chair on the floor.
"There are torches. And chains on the wall," Rory observed.
"Shackles. Ouch!"
The Doctor barely managed to jump away as the door was wrenched open. Another prisoner was thrown in, skidding across the straw-covered floor, then the door closed again. The key turned in the lock.
"Help me turn him over," Rory said.
He was kneeling by the new prisoner, already checking the man's head. Abandoning the door, the Doctor helped him turn the man onto his back. It was another native, this time with a shock of dark hair and a bloodied bandanna holding it up.
The smell of alcohol indicated that the natives liked the same kind of intoxicants as humans did.
"His skull's intact," Rory said. "I don't think the blood is his."
"You shoulda ssseen t'other guy..."
Wide dark eyes were blinking slowly. A curse escaped as Rory tilted the man's head into the torchlight.
"You shouldn't drink so much," Rory said. "You'll ruin your liver."
"Wassa liver?" The man struggled to sit up, then held out his hand. "Fael."
"Rory." Rory tried to keep to his stern nurse tone. "And this is the Doctor."
The Doctor waved his fingers. "Hello."
Fael's attempt to get up was defeated by an obviously wrenched shoulder. His yelps as Rory set it were very impressive. The Doctor watched them from his perch on the stone parapet of a barred window.
"This is not a coherent planet," he announced. "You have interstellar space ships, non-polluting means of transport and mass-produced clothing, but you throw your prisoners into stone cells with torches and iron doors?"
"It's supposed to be scary," Fael muttered, testing out his arm. "Wait. Planet? You're not from here?"
"No," the Doctor agreed cheerfully. "We're interstellar visitors. Tourists. Who got knocked out and kidnapped the moment we set foot on your planet. It's great for tourism. I'll be sure to write a guidebook for this planet."
"Do not come here if you don't like headaches?" Rory offered.
"Exactly!"
"It's Tomas," Fael muttered. "No visitors allowed. Permits to get out. Xenophobic bastard. Him and his party."
The Doctor and Rory exchanged looks.
"Let me?" Rory asked.
The Doctor swept his arm around. "Feel free."
"You don't like the guy in charge?" Rory waved his hand in front of Fael's face to get his attention. "You know other people who don't like him? You're maybe with the - resistance, conspiracy, opposition?"
Fael's eyebrows pulled together. "Are you guys spies?"
"Aha!" The Doctor jumped to his feet. "That's what he thinks! That's why we've been captured and put in this prison!"
"Dungeon."
"Yes, thank you, Rory. Now, we could plan an escape, get to the TARDIS, and leave. Or I could prove to this Tomas just why no-one tries this with me and walks away-" The Doctor trailed off. "Walks away, anyway. I'm sure I'll have a plan. Why don't I have a plan yet?"
Fael tugged on Rory's arm. "Did I have a bottle on me when they threw me in?"
Rory shook his head.
"Damn."
***
Fortunately for the safety of Amy's nail polish, Haya frowned and hurried off the moment they got to the door of the room that was supposed to be hers. There was a meal prepared, and she took the chance to eat while coming up with ways to convince Tomas that they weren't a danger. Or ways to throw him out of the window. That would work just as well.
A knock on the door distracted her just as she had a plan for the latter.
"Are you decent?" a bright, boyish voice asked.
Amy looked down on her dusty shirt and trousers. "Mostly."
"Damn," the newcomer said cheerfully as he opened the door. He was wearing a less ornate version of the same uniform as Hay and Shio, carrying a bundle of clothing in one hand and high boots in the other, and under a haystack of brown hair he was grinning widely. "I was counting on not."
Amy raised her eyebrows.
"But you'll have to," the boy continued. "I mean, I've got new clothes for you. Which are very good. I chose them. Just like Master Haya would. I mean, they're the clothes that Master Haya would have chosen if there hadn't been that trouble at the prison."
"There's trouble at the prison?" Amy seized on the mention. It sounded like her boys.
"Clothes," the boy said firmly. "I've got everything you need. I'm Ren. What's your name? You've got great hair."
"Amy. Amy Pond."
Ren frowned. "Ami? Can I call you Ami? That's smoother."
"Amelia." Amy grinned. It was like talking to a teenage version of the Doctor.
"A-mi-lia," Ren repeated. "That's really pretty."
She held out her hands. "Gimme."
Reluctantly, he handed over the clothes. "I could help you put them on?"
"Sit," she ordered. "Stay."
Ren looked disappointed as she headed behind a folding screen. The room was cluttered with these screens, as well as armchairs, coffee tables and flower stands. It looked like a Victorian drawing room put together by someone who loved costume dramas.
Amy decided to keep her underwear, but the rest of her clothes was dusty and torn anyway, so she might as well go with it. The knee-high toe-socks were soft, made of some kind of supple cotton warm enough that she decided to get some of her own before leaving this planet. If they didn't leave at a run, as usual. The trousers were tight, and she bent down to pull on the high boots before buttoning the fly. Same principle as new jeans, right down to creaking with strain when she moved.
The shirt had sleeves that came down to her wrists, and room enough in the shoulders, but the front was another matter. Amy gave it a sharp tug, then marched out from behind the screen.
"I need a bigger shirt," she announced.
Ren's eyes were wide. "You could take it off," he offered.
Amy looked down, then swatted his hand as he reached for her bra. "No touching the merchandise."
"But if you take it off-"
She put her hands on her hips. "It's not a push-up bra. That's all me."
Ren looked impressed, until Amy took a step forward and her trousers tore at the back seam.
Three sets of clothes later, they settled on judicious use of scarves and pins that let the breeches and shirt be unbuttoned without actually exposing flesh. Amy was even able to sit down while Ren attacked her hair with a strange-smelling spray and jewelled pins.
"You'll look very good at the dinner," Ren assured her.
"What dinner?"
"Lord Tomas wants to have you for dinner. I mean, have dinner with you. In the big dining room on top of the tower. I took documents for Master Haya there once," Ren confided. "The view's fantastic."
"Does it have big windows?" Amy asked idly.
"Very big. With reinforced glass."
She decided she needed a new plan.
"You're ready," Ren said. "You can look now."
A my stood up and took stock of herself in the mirror. With her hips and breasts disguised, her hair pinned up and something done to her makeup - she hadn't even noticed Ren doing it - she looked almost as androgynous as one of the natives. She wondered if maybe they weren't all guys as well, just less endowed than she was.
Ren wrapped his arm around her waist. His chin came up exactly to her shoulder. "You look good enough to eat."
"Down," she ordered.
The door swung open with a bang, and Ren gave a happy cry. He bounded up to Haya, and only a glare from the officer seemed to stop him from attempting a hug. "I dressed her!"
Amy turned around, meeting Haya's eyes. The officer was grinning again. "You'll do."
Then the floor swayed under their feet. Amy caught hold of the mirror, and something on Haya's belt let out a deafening beep.
***
The explosion interrupted Fael's attempt to teach Rory a five-card trick without any cards. It showered them in stone dust.
"Ah!" the Doctor exclaimed, pressing his ear to the door. "At last, something is happening!"
Fael shrugged. "No, it's not. It's just a diversion."
"A diversion for what?" Rory tried to make sense of the stone chips that were standing in for cards.
Fael retrieved the chips. "Our escape."
"I thought you said this is the most fearsome prison on the planet? And that no-one escaped?"
"Except revolutionists. And I'm a revolutionist." Fael dusted his trousers off, then attempted to do the same with his hair.
Rory sighed. "You didn't mention that."
The door lock clanked under assault. There was the sound of a muted but fervent argument on the other side.
Fael grabbed Rory and the Doctor by the collars and pulled them away just before a bullet blasted through the lock.
"Tor," he said simply. "No patience."
When the abused door swung open, it revealed two men dressed the same as Fael, in rugged and layered clothing in various kinds of brown, unlike the blue and black that looked popular in the capital.
"Tor," Fael pointed. "Hiro. Rory. Doctor."
"Is this when we say, take us to your leader?" Rory asked the Doctor.
"We need to get out first," Tor barked. His sharp jaw was set as he surveyed them. "Can you hold a gun?"
"I don't hold with guns," the Doctor said.
"Then stay the hell back!"
In the end, the guns weren't necessary. The corridors were full of all kinds of people running towards or away from the explosion, and a lot of them were taking great pains not to look too closely at armed men who shoved others out of the way. The only group they skirted was a crowd of soldiers in dark uniforms, who lined up at the door of an elevator. The moment the door opened, Tor swore and pushed the others behind a wall that the blast had partially collapsed.
The Doctor peered over Tor's shoulder, ignoring the revolutionist's gun. "That's Amy! Hello, Am-"
Tor went for the direct route of grabbing the Doctor's jaw. "You know that Amy?" he barked at Rory.
"Uh. She's my wife?" Rory tried stealing a look, only to get pushed back by Hiro.
"Prisoner," Hiro reported, peering over the wall. "Too many soldiers. And Haya. Later."
Rory frowned. "Promise?"
"She'll be all right," Fael murmured in his ear. "Hay likes that kind of shape."
"Amy'll probably put him to rights," Rory admitted. "She's good at that."
Tor tried to shake the gagged Doctor, who only increased his muffled complaints.
"We're getting out of here!"
***
Amy was waiting for Haya to get bored with keeping his hand locked around her arm. She was having no luck thus far, getting dragged from one dusty cell to another.
"What are you looking for, exactly?"
He grinned freely. "We are looking for your underlings. Who skipped the joint with Tor's pet drunk. I thought we wouldn't hold on to him, but I'll make sure to make life very unpleasant for the idiot who put him in with the dangerous aliens."
Amy didn't stop her own grin. She could count on her boys to think of something.
"And that's why you're going back upstairs with me," Haya added. "You're not getting out of my sight unless you're with Lord Tomas. Or maybe Shio. He gets his better days."
Amy kept smiling as he dragged her back to the elevator that had taken over ten minutes to bring them all the way down. She trusted the Doctor to have a plan. And Rory to remember her.
"What's next?" she asked.
The elevator beeped before opening for them. Something that looked this Victorian shouldn't really beep, she thought.
"For you? Dinner. Once we're upstairs." With the doors closed, Haya finally let go of her arm, though he didn't give her any more space. "Right now it's just you and me."
She weighed her chances. "You and me and ten minutes."
He leaned forward. "Ten minutes can be plenty of time."
Amy rolled her eyes.
"I like your hair," Haya offered. "Like fire. And your shapes. Not a lot of people here get that - generous."
"I'm not interested."
"I could make you interested."
She didn't manage to stifle her snort. "Do those lines ever work on anyone?"
Haya frowned. "They work plenty of times!"
Amy sighed. Then she grabbed Haya by the hair and kissed him. It wasn't unpleasant, even if he smelled of something - herbal. Alien, she reminded herself. It was easy to forget, with the ones that looked like humans. Alien.
"And that's all you're getting," she informed him, as he stared at her. "Now tell me about Lord Tomas. And whoever Tor is."
***
"You're not in charge," the Doctor said.
"It's easy," Rory explained, when Tor looked puzzled. "People who are in charge usually don't lead the rescue charge. At least not with just one person for backup. At least not if they're not him. Um."
The Doctor dismissed this with a wave of his hand. "So who's in charge?"
"Zora," Fael ventured from the floor. He was slumped against the bench that ran along the wall of the van, tinkering with a beaten-up guitar, while Hiro drove. "He's got a plan."
"You'll see him," Tor said. "If there are aliens spying on our planet, Zora needs to know about it."
"Why?"
Rory looked at the Doctor, frowning. "But we're not-"
"Quiet, Rory, thinking. Why does everyone assume we're spying? It makes sense for the military dictatorship, they assume that everyone is spying, but you people? Why this connection between aliens and spies? How do you know we're aliens anyway? We look exactly like you."
Rory wanted to venture that quite possibly, they were less stylish.
"You smell different," Fael offered. "And you keep asking questions about obvious things. That's a clue?"
Tor folded his arms. "Aliens don't go outside the spaceport. It's an old deal. We don't go into space, they leave us alone here."
"Why?"
Rory decided that Tor's expression was reminding him of Amy just before someone got knocked over. That was never a good sign.
"We're not spies," he said quickly. "And I think we're on your side? I mean, you're revolutionaries. Freedom and glory and down with the dictatorship. We're all for that."
That made Tor shift from annoyed to confused, which was progress. "What do you mean?"
"Uh, revolutionaries? Doesn't that mean you want to change things? A revolution?"
"No?" Fael was looking just as puzzled. "It's from things that revolve. Tomas's party is now in power, and we want it to be our party. Ouch."
"Lord Zora's party," Tor corrected, pulling his foot back. "This is another thing you don't know about us. When a party is deposed, they become revolutionaries."
"So there are two sides?" the Doctor asked.
"Four," Fael said. "Maybe five. If Comu counts."
Tor snorted. "Comu doesn't count."
Fael strummed a chord. "Tell that to her face."
Rory turned to the Doctor. "How are we going to get the TARDIS back? And help Amy?"
"Thinking," the Doctor said. "Trying to think. This planet doesn't make sense, and yet it does. I'm missing something, something I used to know. Something here is familiar."
"It all looks a bit like some rooms in the TARDIS," Rory ventured. "And it looks like there's less technology here than there actually is."
"The smell. I remember the smell." The Doctor shook his head. "Let's try talking them into another rescue."
***
There had been a small emergency with the scarves, and Haya and Ren had too much fun dressing her again, but Amy managed to reach the dining room without much incident. She duly kept her hand on Haya's arm until she stepped over the threshold.
Left alone in the darkened room with the most powerful person on the planet, she wished she could keep Haya there for the conversation. What did you say to someone who ordered his enemies walled in alive?
"Try the wine," Lord Tomas said. "We are proud of it."
"You know that my - boys aren't in jail anymore." Amy speared a random bite of meat with her fork.
"They're on their way to a revolutionary base. It was never my intention to use them as leverage," he added. "I simply wished to talk to you at leisure."
She gestured with her fork. "We're talking."
"You have had time to experience more of our culture. What do you think of it?"
Amy eyed the meat, then put it down carefully. She needed wine first to eat something with purple patterns all over it. "You're pretending to have less technology than you do. You've got a lot people who have way too much energy. Lots of touching. And some weird thing going on with gender."
He nodded with an approving half-smile on that aquiline face. "Gender is a matter of choice for us. You are a talented spy."
"I'm not a spy!"
"Observer, then. And you will later tell someone what you have observed."
She took up the wine. It saved her from answering.
"There are things that I would have you tell," Lord Tomas said. "Eat. Then we will take a walk."
She managed half of her plate and two glasses of the light wine that smelled a little like apple blossoms. Lord Tomas dealt with the rest of the bottle, and with each glass his gestures grew more expansive.
"But enough of it." He stood up suddenly, breaking off a monologue on the aesthetic of local painting styles. "I promised you a walk. Will the lady take my arm?"
Amy put down her glass before getting up. "The lady might."
The sleeve of his jacket was soft under her hand. He was shorter than Haya - shorter than her, maybe, give or take the heeled boots everyone wore here - but he seemed to take up more room just by the way he walked.
Through a short corridor, they came to a series of guarded doors. Behind the last of them, there was a vast hangar filled with dozens of gleaming metal shapes.
Amy looked around. "You built a space fleet?"
"Tell this to your masters," Tomas said. He turned towards her, his fingers tracing the line of her chin. "Tell them that we will no longer beg for trade, or accept the confines of this planet. Tell them that we will take by force whatever we wish to take. Tell them that our internal struggles no longer limit us. I am here to stay."
Amy tried to pull her hand away from his arm, her fingers trapped against his side. "You want people to know that you're going to attack them?"
He leaned forward, his lips almost brushing her ear. There was that herbal scent again.
"I want them to fear."
One of the ships emitted a piercing, pulsing sound. Amy jumped, and Tomas let go of her.
"You are free to go," he said. "Your vessel will be returned to you. Recover your men and leave this planet."
Amy folded her arms. "I have no idea where they are."
"Haya will assist you."
"Does that mean I can give him orders?"
Tomas nodded. Amy smiled.
***
In the hideout - if you could call a giant mansion a hideout - Rory took up a seat beside Fael, on the floor. It was a strategic position, really. It meant he wasn't in the line of fire.
"It will be a blot on the face of your enemy," the Doctor argued. "A great achievement! A small gesture that will get you ahead of everyone else."
"You're still talking of marching into Tomas's private quarters to rescue your ship and your woman." Zora was a little older than his fighters, with similar refined features made more fragile by age. He hadn't moved from his chair yet. "Most of all, of risking and losing the lives of my men for you."
"A fine sentiment," the Doctor agreed. "But if you listen to my plan, no-one has to die at all."
Rory felt the ground shake first. "Doctor!"
The sound came next, and by the time the TARDIS materialised, half a dozen revolutionaries had their guns out.
"It's all right!" the Doctor announced. "This is our ship. And our Amy," he added.
The door opened, and Amy waved at them. She was still wearing something like a local military uniform, her hair pulled back.
Then a grinning guy waved from behind her, and all the guns went up again.
"Whoa!" Amy called out. "That's mine. For the moment. Haya'll behave, won't you?"
"Yes, sir." Haya was looking at Amy with something like adoration.
She ran to Rory first. He caught her and was subjected to a kiss. "Are you all right?"
"Me?" She was laughing. "You were the one who got blown up!"
"You got kidnapped!"
"That was nothing." She turned to the Doctor and administered a hug. "Did you get in trouble?"
"Not for lack of trying." He sniffed her. "Huh. Strange. Okay, we're leaving!"
"No, we're not," she informed him. "Tomas wants to take over the galaxy. I want to stop him."
"How?" Zora got to his feet, walking past Haya as idly as if the officer was a potted plant. "He doesn't have ships."
"He built them," Amy said. "At least a hundred of them. You must be Zora. You're supposed to be smart. How do we take him down?"
Zora was already nodding. Rory thought that he was really proud of his wife.
"Yachiyo," Zora said.
"We're not supposed to talk to Yachiyo," Hiro ventured from his station to one side of Zora's chair. "No-one is."
"This is important enough." Zora gestured to all three of them. "Come with me."
***
The mansion they arrived at was no different from Zora's headquarters, except for the overgrowth of vines all over it. It looked like no-one had been taking care of the garden for decades.
"So this Yachiyo's in charge?" Rory asked Zora. Talking beat worrying about the thoughtful look on the Doctor's face, and Amy was whispering with that guy she had brought along.
"Yachiyo is the oldest of the ancestors," Zora said. "And the rules are Yachiyo's rules."
"Rules?"
"We stay on the planet. We do not fight with aliens. We do not build ships." Zora's jaw was set. "I don't know what Tomas would have us become, but it's not the way that things should be."
The stone steps were dusty, but untouched. The great doors creaked as they opened without any apparent intervention.
Rory thought the grand hallway was empty, until lights came on upstairs. They could only see the silhouette as Yachiyo descended, each step set to an unheard music, the hems of the dark robe whispering.
Zora and his guards bowed low.
Up close, Yachiyo did not look much older than anyone else Rory had seen on the planet, except for the dark eyes lined with kohl.
"Welcome," he said, or maybe she said. There was really no telling. "Welcome, Zora. Tor. Hiro." The dark eyes moved over them. "Time Lord."
The Doctor ran forward, frowning. "Do I know you? I know you, don't I? Yachi- Ah-ha!" He stepped back, smiling brilliantly. "Great perception filter, by the way. Or is it shape-shifting?"
"Shape-shifting," Yachiyo agreed. "I think you remember this form."
The pale skin merged into leaves and vines that twisted into a humanoid smile. The dark eyes remained just as dark.
"That explains things," Amy muttered at Rory's shoulder. "Haya, if you're a plant, why did you compare my hair to fire?"
"I like playing with it?" Haya whispered back.
Rory shushed them, because just then Yachiyo returned to the previous form and embraced the Doctor.
"You're looking good," the Doctor said. "Very leafy. Why this form?"
"You left us a Time Lord library. The shapes looked interesting. And I decided to follow the principles we devised."
He turned in a circle around Yachiyo. "So you did it! Turned the most feared infestation in the universe - the loveliest parasites, I assure you, hurtling their seeds through space and infesting planets that they turned into bases for further conquest, finally eating them whole in their quest for destruction - into a peaceful people with a great culture and frankly marvellous crafts!"
Rory cleared his throat. "Peaceful people who blow each other up," he ventured.
The Doctor waved his hand. "Details. You should have seen them earlier. How much earlier?"
Yachiyo was smiling. "Eight centuries, old friend. And your new face looks well."
"It's been a while." He snapped his fingers. "And we need your help. Well, Amy needs your help. She's got it in her head to stop your people from becoming an interstellar infestation again."
Yachiyo turned to her. Up close, the smile was overwhelming. "Then you shall have my help."
"It's Tomas," Zora said. "We will need to get into the Lord's Tower-"
"Haya will help with that part," Amy said. "Won't you, Haya?"
Haya saluted to Amy, then again to Yachiyo. "Yes, sir!"
***
They left the Doctor and Rory with the TARDIS in the spaceport. Yachiyo had insisted, probably speaking from experience. Amy guessed that a hyperactive Time Lord wasn't very helpful when you were disciplining your kid. Sapling. Something.
"So the whole system - the factions, parties, revolutionaries, that's all you?" she asked as they walked to Tomas's quarters. "Just to keep everyone busy and not conquering the universe?"
She and Haya were allowed in the tower anyway. Yachiyo and Zora wore hooded cloaks.
"It allows power to be shared among all who are worthy of it," Yachiyo said. "And it lets the rest of the population to get on with their lives in peace. The system works."
"Except for Tomas."
"Except for the ones who have too much time in power. I shall have a talk with Comu," Yachiyo added cryptically. "She gave up power too easily."
"There was gossip," Haya offered. "But it wasn't really anatomically possible."
Yachiyo made an idle gesture that reminded Amy of the way Tomas moved, distilled through eight - more? - centuries of experience. "I shall have a talk."
"I guess it makes for an interesting life," Amy said. "There's always something happening. You don't get bored, even if it's all just on one planet."
"One doesn't," Yachiyo agreed.
At the doors they came to, Haya took over. The guards were cowed quickly, but that only got them into the antechamber.
Shio, Tomas's second in command, was napping on a chair by the inner door. He woke with a start and reached for his gun.
Yachiyo took down the hood of the robe. The officer bowed low.
"It is Tomas's time," Yachiyo said. "We must talk."
"I serve him," Shio said. "But I serve the Sien first."
"Sien?" Amy whispered to Haya.
He looked uncomfortable. "We don't really mention that name. You don't go calling yourself Time Lord, do you?"
"They did," she muttered. "I'm human, not Time Lord."
Zora silenced them with a look and followed Yachiyo into Tomas's chambers. Amy shrugged, then went after them. She stopped just behind the door, with Haya at her right and Shio at her left. A mirror of the way she had first seen Tomas, she thought.
Tomas was sitting behind a heavy desk. A pen was still rolling across the surface, dropped when Yachiyo had entered.
"There are few rules of the trunk and the root," Yachiyo said. "But there is one that I wrote in the bark with the branches of my siblings' arms. The Sien do not go to war outside our race."
"We could," he said, rising slowly. "We could rule all of them. We're inventive, determined, ambitious. We're the perfect conqueror race!"
"And that is why we must not."
Yachiyo raised a hand, and Tomas ran for the door. Zora tackled him to the floor.
They fought without sound, even breath held. Amy started forward, but Haya caught her arm, and she could only clutch her fists. Her fingernails pressed into her palms with each punch that Zora landed, until Tomas held up his arms.
Yachiyo stood over them, with the same kind smile. "It's time for you, Tomas. When you grow too great for this game, it is time. You will become an ancestor, with firm roots in the ground. All of this will seem like a dream."
Slowly, moving with pain, he took Yachiyo's hand. Then he folded down again, on his knees, crying against Yachiyo's robes.
Amy turned away. Zora was getting to his feet as well, pushing past them back to the antechamber.
"Is it over?" she asked.
Zora nodded. He took out a pillbox-shaped communicator. "Tomas's men will be in disarray. The revolution goes on."
There was the click of a gun's safety coming off.
"Not in that direction," Haya said apologetically. "Amy? If you step to the left, I can get a better shot. Thank you."
Zora stared at him. "Tomas is gone! You can't be hoping-"
"Tomas is gone, but Leon isn't." Haya was smiling ruefully. "And since you've been busy with all this, it'll be Lord Leon by this evening. Sorry. You took your eyes off the game board."
Amy rolled her eyes. "You guys are impossible. I want out of here."
Three other armed soldiers entered the room. One of them was Ren, who gave Amy a jaunty wave with the hand that wasn't holding a gun.
***
The Doctor was still sulking about missing the showdown, and Rory decided that the Sien planet was too confusing, so it was just Amy in front of the TARDIS, saying goodbye to her escort.
"You could come again," Haya said. "I really like your ship."
"It's the Doctor's ship." Amy smiled. "So you're a royal bodyguard again?"
Haya scowled. "That was boring. Nah, they're giving me recruits to train."
"To mold in your shape? That's really frightening." She laughed at his expression. "Thanks for the clothes. And everything."
"Thanks for the adventure."
The TARDIS door opened. The Doctor peered out. "Is this going to take all night?"
"We're ready," Rory echoed from behind him. "Amy?"
She nodded, turning back to the TARDIS.
Haya grabbed her and spun her around, tipping her backwards. The kiss was fiery, herb-scented, sending tingles all the way down to her toes.
She still knocked him on the ear with his fist. He dropped her, swearing, and she ran laughing to the TARDIS.
"Bye!" she called out, her arms around Rory.
The lights came on, and the deafening sound of the time machine taking off. She was still grinning all the way back to Earth.
Commemorative show programme (warning: 400KB image)