Off this Burning Planet
Rating: PG
Prompt: #087 - Chaos
Claim: The Time War
Table: Here
Spoilers: None
Characters: Jacobi!Master, Doctor (8)
Summary: On Gallifrey the last battle of the Time War is fought and the Master has other plans than throwing his life away for nothing.
The sky is glowing in a deep orange. It shouldn’t. The suns are both down and in the short night it should be dark, and maybe, if the clouds cleared away, they should see the stars.
Watching them from afar. Perhaps it’s fitting that now, at the end of all things, even this simplest thing, the thing that ruled their lives, is taken from them.
The Master would smile but standing in the mud with a gun in his hand, his civilisation in ruins around him, he doesn’t see the humour. The drums, this alien and familiar drumbeat is urging him forward, calling for the battle and the killing, yet all his instincts are screaming at him to stay behind his cover, to stay alive. He doesn’t move, and around him Gallifrey is dying.
Time to go. The rats leave the ship when it’s sinking.
There’s chaos and destruction around him. The citadel has been taken and they won’t get it back. There are too many Daleks. Too few Time Lords and most of them are dead.
The battle has lost all order. The soldiers should storm ahead while their Generals command from behind the lines but this is a last stand and everyone has become a soldier, throwing themselves into battle. The Master nearly admires them for their bravery. Two days ago he wouldn’t have put it past the dusty old men to simply sit down and let it end.
But if they got nothing left to lose everyone seems to be willing to leave their old ways behind. The Master knows it because he can see the Doctor, with a gun in his hands, and for once the blood on his hands is actually visible.
He hasn’t spotted him yet and even if he did the Master would be just one of many to him. He doesn’t know. He’s going to die and he doesn’t even know the Master exists.
There’s fire and explosions, hitting far too close to the Master’s hiding place. No chance to get away without getting killed. He stays hidden, watches the Doctor as he slowly gets closer to the Daleks blocking the way back into the citadel. There are so many dead bodies and only a few burned out shells of metal.
The Time Lords spend all their lives sitting around inside the protection of their citadel. How fitting for them to come out to die.
Everyone inside is already dead.
He hears the shrieks of the enemy but can’t understand their words over the noise of the battle. As if there was any doubt what they are screaming.
Another detonation and the rocks that shelter him from the constant fire crack. Smoke all around him, and less shooting now. When the air clears enough to see further than a metre the Master makes out another fallen solider in the dirt before him, just a few steps away. Thrown back by the force of the explosion. It’s the Doctor and he doesn’t move.
In the shelter of the remaining smoke the Master steps out of his hiding place to where a stray shot could kill him any moment. The Doctor isn’t dead. He knew it all along, is relived none the less when the other blinks, is pulled back to consciousness by his gentle touch.
“Who are you?” he asks hoarsely, because there have never been many of them and new faces are rare. Still the Master is surprised, hides it. There is no reason the Doctor should recognize him, but wasn’t there a slight widening of his eyes when he saw him, a hint of weariness in his voice?
“I’m on your side,” the Master tells him.
He doesn’t wait for the Doctor to get back to his feet. Grabs his shoulders and drags him to safety, where the Doctor pushes away the dirty strands of hair that have fallen into his face and sits up.
“Right now everyone made of flesh is on our side.” He doesn’t say ‘on mine’. “But thank you anyway.” He doesn’t ask for a name.
“Don’t mention it.” The Master doesn’t ask for a favour in return. What the Doctor owes him is not asking why he’s sitting behind rocks while everyone else is sacrificing their lives for the lack of a better option.
“There’s hardly anyone left,” the Doctor observes instead and it’s almost the same.
“It’s the end.” There’s no emotion in the Master’s voice. “We’ve lost. What are they dying for?”
“Hope,” the Doctor tells him, his voice quiet. He attempts to get up and sinks down again. The left leg of his trousers is soaked in blood. “All is lost if they win. The entire universe. We have stop them.”
“There is no hope. They’ve won already. Everyone will die.” Despite the uselessness of it all the Master treats the Doctor’s wounds, helps him up. The other man is leaning against him heavily. Still clutching his gun.
“Then there’s no reason to hold back,” he says.
Wishing for a miracle will get them nowhere.
The rift between the rocks is narrow - the end of a tunnel leading deeper into the mountain. The Master was lucky to find it and for a while they’ll be safe here. He begins leading the Doctor deeper inside.
“What are you doing? We have get out and help them!”
“There’s no one left to help. Listen!”
They stop and listen to the silence. The fighting has stopped and there’s no doubt which side is still standing.
For a moment it seems the Doctor is going to fall, but the Master doesn’t have to support his full weight for long.
“You know what that means, don’t you?” he whispers.
Of course the Master does. Eventually the Daleks will find them and then they will die. They will leave not a single Time Lord alive, not a single enemy.
For a Dalek every other species is an enemy.
“We failed,” the Doctor says quietly but the Master can’t appreciate the upcoming doom of the cosmos. His mind is feverishly trying to find a way to get to his TARDIS unharmed, because he has to get away, and if he wants to stay alive he has to make sure the Daleks never find him.
He can’t take the Doctor with him. He’d get them both killed.
“They’ll destroy everything,” the other whispers beside him, letting himself get dragged along. “I have to stop them, somehow, have to stop them…”
The Master pays no attention to his almost inaudible voice. He doesn’t know how the Doctor can be so shocked when there was no hope to begin with. He doesn’t know why he keeps him safe when he’s lost anyway.
They reach the end of the cave and the Master lets the Doctor sink to the ground where he stays for half a minute before pushing himself to his feet again. His eyes gleam feverishly in the near darkness.
“The battle fleet is still out there,” he declares. “They’re still fighting them. We have to go and help!” So eager to lose his life, and the Master can’t tell - does he really believe in the possibility of victory, naïve fool that he is, or does he simply not want to be left behind?
If the view outside is still obscured be the smoke of the detonations they could get out without being seen. To get out of here they have to act before it all clears away.
There is a low rumbling in the air, that makes the walls of the cave vibrate as it grows louder. A ship breaking into the atmosphere of the planet.
The Time Lord’s have no ships this large.
“It’s the ship of the Dalek emperor,” the Master realises. The battle in space is over.
The Doctor says nothing in return. Holding his weapon even tighter, his eyes full of determination, he starts limping toward the exit of the cave. Once second later he crumbles to the ground, struck down by a blow to his head.
The Master lowers his own weapon, not sure why he did that. If the Doctor goes out there and gets himself killed fighting or dies once he wakes up again makes no difference.
But he’s still alive when the Master leaves him behind and goes to find a way back to his TARDIS, and off this doomed planet. Determined to find a place to hide from the Daleks, and from the persistent voice telling him that he shouldn’t have left alone.
May 8, 2008