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Part 1 of the
Published:Completed:Words:41149Chapters:34/34Kudos:14Bookmarks:Hits:715
The Time War shook all of reality. Planets burned, stars were torn to shreds, and people were pushed becoming monsters and desolate, empty shells. The Doctor, The Master, Romana, and countless soldiers all fighting and bleeding - all dying. Tales from the Time War, of nightmares, of gods, and tales of the monstrous follow.
: A Prologue to The Storm
In which a lone soldier on Skaro discovers the beginnings of the darkest of times.
I rated it general for now - the rating may change as I go. There will be minor scenes of violence but if anyone feels like I should up the rating please let me know. I will try and make sure everything is tagged but this is my first fic so be kind!Thanks guys!
Please... please. D-Don't let me die."
Tired cries fell on the uncaring landscape. Explosions could be heard in the distance. The grand chorus in this song of war, accompanied by verses of cascading laser fire. The lone soldier crawled along the ground, her uniform torn to shreds. Was she a Thaal? A Kaled? Did it matter? There were so few differences between them these days.
"Please...".
Private First Class Wessler was not a religious woman. She never had time, nor a particularly strong inclination for such things. Baz, the medic in her battalion had always tried to get her to read scripture, insisting that it was what she needed in these troubling times. She paid him no mind, citing that there was no end to all this. No words of comfort in a book would help them.
Baz died, screaming. His legs were blown clean off. His last action was to give her his holy book, in the hopes that in dying, his last act would have some meaning. Perhaps it did. The rain of laser fire that had killed Wessler's battalion happened to miss all her vital spots. Her legs were torn up, but unlike Baz's, they were functional. The Laser bolt that would've pierced her heart was actually stopped by the book in her breast pocket. She was thankful for this. She wished she had listened to Baz, all those weeks ago. She wished for the comfort that he found in the words that she had found so hollow. She wished for so much.
The dust in the air kicked up from the surrounding battles was thick. I tore at her face. The cloud was a permanence. The product of mountains torn asunder, of valleys razed. The results of so many battles across the planet Skaro. Wessler's was not the first, nor was it the last. Never the last.
As she crawled, she kept her head down. Partly because she wanted to make herself a small a target as possible, but also because she hadn't the strength to lift it. Yet something was amiss. She could feel it. More accurately, she could hear it. Voices on the wind, amidst the fighting. These voices were not in the forms of crazed battles cries. The pathetic weeping was nowhere to be found. What Wessler heard was conversation. Was this her salvation? She was driven forward by new hope for rescue, raising her head ever so slightly. The poor girl never could have known what she was crawling towards. Two men, harbingers of unimaginable terror. Ministers of the end of all things.
One man was tall. He was thin, gaunt even. He was clothed in a black robe that covered everything but his face. He carried nothing on his person. She strained to even see arms or legs. All she saw was a man's face sitting atop a thin black pillar, saddled with dark purpose. The other man was odd, in contrast. He hunched, kept his hands buried in his trouser pockets, his head careening around, staring like a child in a sweets shop. He wore a red jacket of some sort. It popped out of the haze like a target. A tattered hat sat on a head of puffy hair. What was most curious was the multi-colored scarf around his neck. It was long. Too long, she thought. It dragged along the ground as the two of them walked. Were they not worried that someone would find them? The both of them were like walking targets out here. She strained to hear what they were talking about.
The man in the black robe spoke. "You enjoy the freedom we allow you. In return, occasionally, not continually, we ask you to do something for us."
The man in the scarf and hat stood strong despite his hunched posture. "I won't do it. Whatever it is, I refuse."
What could they have been speaking about? Why weren't they in uniform? Where were their weapons? So man questions raced through Wessler's mind. These men felt wrong. Their presence here felt wrong. They did not belong. Wessler's thoughts were cut short by the uttering of a single word from the man in black.
The man in the scarf and hat turned to the other, attention obviously caught. There was weight to the word. Impossible weight that Wessler had no way of comprehending. Why did the word give her such pause? There was so much venom in the way they spoke it. So much fear. Dalek, she thought. Dalek, Dalek, Dalek. This would be the last word that Private First Class Wessler would hear before succumbing to her wounds. Her body would never be found. Another victim in an endless war. A war that no one could remember the reason for. It had become a constant. Synonymous with life on Skaro. War was all they knew.
: Time Flies
In which The Doctor and an Old Friend muse on what has become of their friendship, and what the War will
mean for their future.
"Pause memory." A voice rang out. The dust in the air ground to a halt, the Skaro winds freezing in place. The two men stood still, gazes locked. Nearby, and just out of view, the body of a dead soldier lay. She was as still as she was when the memory was playing. She was unchanging. A constant. A man emerged from the cloud, walking through it without touching it. It was a projection of his mind, after all. The man wore a tattered leather jacket. Cracks ran across the dark brown exterior. Over it, an empty bandolier. His brown waistcoat was tatttered. His pants, boot coverings, even hi all tattered. The word embodied the man. The skin on his face, cracked like his jacket. His face was spotted with the tiny beginnings of a beard, little spots of black resting all over his face. His hair was black and wiry, but altogether short and manageable.The Doctor examined the scene. However it was not his fourth incarnation and Valyestriandriluma he was focusing on. The Doctor was focused on the dead soldier. He walked past himself over to her, and kneeled down. "If I had only looked over..." The Doctor muttered to himself, "Perhaps... perhaps you would've had a chance." The Doctor wondered about her for a long time, sitting there, bygone days frozen around him. Did she have a family? Did they miss her? What was she fighting for? He made a habit tirelessly going over past events, wondering what he could've done differently. This was the first time, in all the times he had gone over this memory, that he noticed her. Another ghost. Another face in a crowd of the dead. "I'm sorry."A new voice spoke up, having just entered the room. "Resume memory." The newcomer said. The dust once again began its eternal dance through the air. The Doctor's fourth incarnation began speaking again, his voice filled with piqued curiosity. My fourth life, he thought to himself. A naive romantic. Soft. Easily malleable with talk of the greater good, or the promise of a revolution. What was once associated with so many happy memories was now nothing but nearly unbearable regret."Daleks? Tell me more." The Doctor did not turn to watch himself speak, nor to meet the eyes of the newcomer in the room. This new element was all he had, at the moment. He was inten losing himself in it. "We foresee a time when they will have destroyed all other life forms and became the dominant creature in the universe." The Doctor stared intently at Wessler, her hair being blown around by the winds. It was longer than you'd expect a solider to wear. Was this significant? Some last expression of self in a war that burned the self away? The newcomer finally entered the projection proper. "Valyes was such a fool," she said. "The Chancellor of the High Council. How could he have been so short-sighted?"The Doctor considered this for a moment. He stood up, turning to face his friend. Her face was sharp. Sharper than it had ever been in their time together. This wasn't a face he had not seen before, but he still needed time to get used to it. Straight brown hair, tied back in a ponytail was draped along her left shoulder. Neat and even bangs sat over her eyebrows. Underneath were deep blue eyes, a sharp nose, and thin lips. She was a stern-looking woman, now. Made so by her time in office. "The same could be asked of all of us, Romana." It was true, as much as they both hated to admit it. They believed there were countless times this could've been averted. "Why are you watching this again?" she asked. They both knew the answer, but she felt the need to ask, regardless. It was not the first time she had asked, and it was far from the first time either of them had caught the other lost in the past. "I don't know. I come back to this moment, always. Looking, perhaps? Trying to figure out if there was something I'd missed. Some tiny detail that could unravel the web we find ourselves in."The Doctor sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was tired. "Doctor..." Romana started to speak, but was cut off buy the projection of Valyes. The Doctor too, about to scold her, found himself interrupted. He was a picture of their past refusing to leave them be. A specter hanging over their heads. "...affect their genetic development so that they evolve..." Romana sighed. She had no love for Valyes. The fact that his projection was interrupting her, mirroring their time in congress, did not help his rather low standing with her."This is set in stone. It always was. This is where it began, and I don't believe you'll get anything from these two. But you have found something new, haven't you?" Romana's finger came up, guiding the Doctor's gaze to Wessler's body. The Doctor again seemed to lose himself as he stared at her. Romana didn't know what to do. Times were different, now. The playfulness that may have once defined their relationship was all but gone. She decided to take a risk, edging closer to him in measured steps. She reached out, and lay a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. She did not expect what came next.The Doctor quickly whipped around, her hand being torn away from his shoulder. He looked at her, with a sort of shock in his eyes. Was it shock? She considered this for a moment. Shock, punctuated by a deep-seated worry, perhaps. He looked outwardly frightened, as if afraid of physical contact. He moved as one would expect
quickly, and reflexively. The Doctor too, realized what he had done.During any other life, he would have welcomed the comforting embrace of familiar company. Especially now that he and Romana mirrored each other, so. New faces. Long, tired ones. Once chipper, upbeat personalities beaten and worn down to the bone. "You're here," Valyes once again spoke, a tone of mocking indignation evident. "This is Skaro.""Cease playback."
The Doctor said quietly. The memory began to fade, much like one would expect a TARDIS would. The process was slower, with the horizon vanishing first. As it did, the Gallifreyan memory chamber faded back into view. The dust of Skaro vanished, the four walls flanking The Doctor and Romana now fully visible. A staircase appeared, leading down and away from the platform. Below, a long hallway leading out of the chamber, large ornate pillars on either side. Monuments to the decadence of this place. As Wessler faded from view, The Doctor offered her one last mournful glance.The last part of the memory to vanish was The Doctor himself. Romana once again stood at The Doctor's side, both their eyes falling on his Fourth, fading life. "What happened to us?" Romana asked. Curiously, she seemed to be regarding the projection, instead of the genuine article standing next to her. As the smiling face of the man with the hat and scarf vanished, the gruff, almost angry voice of the current Doctor rang out. "We became old." Romana wanted to say she missed them. She wanted to tell him the truth. She missed him, those times they shared, everything. She could not bring herself to, though she couldn't pinpoint exactly why. The Doctor too, found himself in the same position.There they stood, two strangers. Neither had the will, or perhaps the desire to grasp at the flickering embers of happiness fading away before them. "Why are you here, Romana?" The Doctor finally asked, looking away from the spot where Wessler once lay. "The council has requested my presence. Quite out of the blue, actually. I was hoping you could join me." She tilted her head, a dry smile creeping up on her face.The Doctor did not return it. "They'd let you bring me of all people sit in on their congress?" Romana's brow furrowed. Her back straightened, taking a stance more in line with her current station. "I am the Lady President. I can do what I damn well please."At this, The Doctor laughed, taking an exaggerated curtsey. The action seemed to surprise him and Romana equally. Perhaps the past wasn't so far off, after all. The Doctor, not backing down, as he was already in too deep at this point, spoke. "I would be honored to accompany you, Lady President." "Respect for authority, Doctor? That is certainly a first." Romana playfully countered. The Doctor's face grew weary, his eyes seeming to glaze over slightly. "That's not my name anymore."The Doctor made his way off the memory projection platform by way of the stairs, heading down into the hallway towards the exit. Romana did not move, her habit of calling him by that name all those years still seemed to bite her every now and again. She opted to fix her robes instead of following. As The Doctor made his way down towards the exit, he turned around. "Well?" He asked, some of the light that Romana had loved having returned. "We're going to be late." No matter the face, no matter the life, the light that The Doctor seemed to exude was infectious. He lifted his arm in offering to her.Romana, having fixed the supposed problems with her robe, rushed down to greet him. She linked her arm with his, and off they went. Romana closed her eyes for a moment. In her mind's eye, they were back in Paris on Earth, walking through the Louvre. In another instance, they walked along the translucent steps of the Starbrand staircase, wreathed in the blessed light of infinite possibility. The universe was their oyster, a playground composed of stars. She was happy for the briefest of moments, the door of the memory chamber opening and snapping her out of it. "I miss your scarf." She said. "That old thing?" The Doctor scoffed. "What I have now is so much more sensible." The Doctor adjusted his scarf, as if he was soothing it, trying to reassure it despite Romana's words. "Boring is the word I'd use." She said, blankly. The Doctor smiled, but said nothing else. Turning, the two of them silently walked on, the Panoptican awaiting.
: Mondas - Pest Control
In which the boundaries of time and space are broken, The Daleks march forth on an enemy nearly as old as themselves, and a gauntlet is thrown down.
This here is the first part of a few interludes that will be running concurrently with the main Doctor story. Eventually, they'll all weave together, so enjoy! :)
The Planet Mondas at one point, rotated along the same axis of Earth. It was colloquially known as Earth's twin. Some accounts, dating back to time forgotten, suggested it was created by Destiny. The term "Destiny" was broad enough on its own by virtue. The inconclusive reports did not add any credibility to the already tenuous theory. However, any learned mind that found itself meditating on the nature of Mondas would take pause. It was too similar to Earth. The ecosystem, even the continents, though inverted, were wholly identical. Perhaps it was some grand experiment? Put forth by whom? Destiny? Was there some greater game out there, being played at the edge of the collective perception? The questions raised by musing on Mondas' nature often took precedence over the questions raised by Mondas itself. It was relegated to one of hundreds, perhaps thousands of smaller questions. The questions were all asked, hoping the sum total of all their answers would tell what our purpose in an ever-expanding universe was. Inane ramblings of galactic philosophers aside, Mondas was significant for another reason: It was the birthplace of the Cybermen. The forming of Earth's moon destabilized the fragile balance that Earth and Mondas shared, and it was knocked off its axis, flying towards the edge of space. The people knew that if they were to survive, they would have to adapt. They would have to evolve. To survive, the Mondasians would have to upgrade. Thus, the Cybermen were born. One faction opted to stay on Mondas, eventually moving to suck the energy out of Earth and save their doomed world. The others took to the stars, splitting off into dozens of different factions, all with the same purpose: To survive. To save the universe by upgrading it.
The Cybermen became an established galactic presence, crushing entire cities under their cold, metallic boots. They always added to their ranks, like reapers harvesting souls. They grew. Like some swollen mass, they grew. It was only natural that the Daleks came for them during the great war. The Mondasian Cybermen at this point in time had not yet been fought off by The Doctor's first incarnation. They were young, stumbling over themselves.
On that fateful day on Mondas, a day that never should have been, Cybermen would look up into the sky. They cast their eyes to the Heavens, and were met with the gaping maw of Hell. Great saucers slicing through the night time expanse would begin bombarding them with laser fire. It was an image that would be burned into the collective Cybermen consciousness. Great glowing bolts of blue
burning the dead forests, shocking and tearing up the ground, ripping them in twain. It would be an image that across the farthest reaches of space would rally them to this new cause.
The Mondasians were confused, at first unable to process what was happening. It was not until their communication units picked up the storm of screaming. One thousand Daleks, all chanting one word: "Exterminate! Exterminate! Exterminate!" The Daleks had declared war. The Cybermen would not back down. The Cybermen would meet them with all they had.
: Absolute Power
In which the Time Lord High Council presents Romana with an ultimatum, and tidings do not bode well for the future.
The Doctor and Romana made their way through the Citadel arm-in-arm. There wasn't quite a spring in their step, as neither of them believed they were capable of such anymore. They walked as a Lord and L heads high, backs straight. The both of them paid no mind to the stares from passing guards and officiaries. It was apparent that nothing would bother them, at this point. For a brief few minutes, neither of them had a care in the world."Did they tell you what the summoning was about?" The Doctor asked."No." She replied. "They usually let me know far ahead of time."Romana was worried, this much was clear. As they grew closer to the Panoptican, she made less and less of an effort to mask it."You'd think they'd keep their Lady President informed..." The Doctor said, voice panged with worry."I'll be sure to give them a piece of my mind." She said flatly.As the two came up to the large doors leading to the Panoptican, they paused. The doors were adorned with the Seal of R with long lines darting out from the Seal and curving off into spirals. The ends of each line were capped with Gallifreyan sigils, names of great lords and ladies across Time Lord History. The Doctor and Romana regarded each other with an odd look. It was a perplexing mix of the weariness that weighed down on them and the jovial undercurrent to their relationship. Their arms fell back to their sides, parting and dangling limp in the air."Once more on to the breach..." Romana said, wearily.The Doctor nodded, solemnly moving to open the door. Before he could put a hand on it however, the doors swung open on their own. He sighed, shaking his head. Romana confidently strode in before him. The Doctor watched all the faces in the room regard Romana as she entered. There was the expected reverence, he initially thought. Upon his second glance, The D they all had something different about them, the High Council. Hints of a smirk crept along the face of one of them. One didn't sit up properly as Romana entered. Time Lords were nothing if not slaves to ritual. A sudden lapse in this trend was something to be noted.The Doctor finally entered the room, having stopped himself from or at least, temporarily. The room was suitably large, with pillars on the far sides of the room connecting to a sprawling roof. The floor was a crisp marble, dulled by thousands of years of pacing and indecision. In the center of the room, flanked by the high council, was a large ovular table. It seemed to be made of wood, a testament to how long it stood. Mirroring the door outside, Gallifreyan sigils were carved into its surface."Lady President." The Lady Cardinal, a stern woman named Syla said, speaking presumably for the entire room. "Are you well?"Syla gave off the unmistakable aura of "going-through-the-motion-ness", The Doctor thought."What I am, Syla," Romana quickly snapped, "Is curious as to why you called me here with no given reason." Romana paused, taking a deep breath. "I'd only expect such disregard for protocol if Gallifrey was falling."Another council member named K a rather pompous man, even for the Time Lords, sat up in all the pomp and circumstance one would expect from him."With respect, Lady President, if Gallifrey was falling, you wouldn't need us to tell you, would you?"A number of the table snickered as Karlax spoke, Romana's stare pushing him back into his chair. Romana turned back to Syla."Well? What is it then?"The Doctor stood respectfully by the door. Romana's eyes darted over to him every now and again. The small exchanges, while wordless, offered both of them the tiniest of comforts."The council has been keeping an eye on the war as it has been unfolding. We know it intimately." Syla started.The Doctor, having actually fought on several fronts of the war, rolled his eyes in annoyance and grunted. He had never seen any of these Time Lords ride into battle, and he was also fairly certain none of them had ever experience live combat. The council ignored him keeping their collective gaze on Syla and Romana."As such, we are forced to take... inventory of our current state of affairs." Syla said.Romana narrows her eyes. "Take inventory?"Syla sat up, the other councilors mirroring the gesture. "Certain things have become clear. Mainly, Lady President, The Daleks are winning. They are winning and if that is to change, something must be done differently."Syla motioned to The Doctor as she spoke, as if looking for confirmation. The Doctor gave the council nothing. He stood at attention, outwardly refusing to confirm or deny anything that was being said. Romana appreciated the gesture more than The Doctor could know. Yet on the inside, he knew they were at least partially right. Something needed to be done."I am still waiting for your point, Lady Cardinal." Romana said, crossing her arms.Syla cleared her throat. "The Point, Lady President, is that if things do not soon take a more satisfying turn, your position in office will have to be re-considered."There was a silence in the room. None of the councilors dared to speak up, and both The Doctor and Romana were stunned. This was a bold move, even for them. To compromise the Presidency at such a tumultuous time? To throw reason to the air and waste time and effort re-establishing the authority of a new office? Romana furrowed her brow, considering her words. The Doctor was the one who broke the silence."What gives you the right?" He asked.Karlax answered quickly, snapping back at The Doctor."We have every right, Doctor! Unlike you! Your voice falls on deaf ears here." Karlax sneered as he flaunted his authority in The Doctor's face."Deaf ears. I have never heard a more apt description of this council." The Doctor countered.Karlax, in anger, turned to Romana, as if waiting for her to scold the man who had just insulted them. He was met with nothing but a knowing smile on her part. She was quite pleased she had brought The Doctor along. It made the petty bureaucracy so much more entertaining. Karlax fell into silence, simmering angrily in his seat."You'd replace me then?" Romana calmly asked."If need be, lady President. Desperate times." Syla said."Desperate times..." Karlax quietly echoed."With whom?" Romana asked, probing the council for whatever information she could."With whoever we have to, Lady President." Syla said, with a degree of finality that disturbed Romana.The Doctor too had picked up on this. A vein in his head became more prominent, while Romana wound her fingers together tightly, squeezing for some attempt at relief. Was this foreshadowing on their part? Or just their usual snide remarks? The Doctor considered these questions, running the possibilities through his mind. All courses pointed to the former, worrying him."And all the while, instead of focusing on the war, you dedicate pointless time putting together this meeting, neglecting your own duties, tearing me away from mine... And for what? Veiled threats?"The council did not speak up, keeping their eyes on their feet as if they were children being scolded by a mother."Perhaps, it is you who need to change your tactics... Lest I replace you with a council that has bloody BACKBONE!"At that last word, she slammed her fist on the table. The Doctor could not help but smile."Get back to the War. Save some lives. Save all of our lives. I expect updates on all the fronts of the War sent to my desk. If we don't have any info, why? Who was the fool who left a temporal stone unturned? Get that info. Get the full picture. Strategize. Fight back, and stop wasting my damned time!"With that, Romana turned away from the High Council, taking angry steps to the door.The Doctor moved to open the door for her."Lady President." he said, moving his hand to the door. Before he could touch it however, the door opened on its own. He sighed."Doctor." Romana replied, formally. "Would you kindly escort me out?"The Doctor nodded, rather vexed that Romana called him that again, but he had no desire to compromise her image in
especially after what he had just witnessed. He turned back to the High Council, studying them one last time. They said nothing, exchanging nervous glances. From outside, Romana cleared her throat. The Doctor, snapping out of his trance, answered."Coming, coming." He left the Panoptican, the door slamming shut behind him.Romana regarded him. "Shall we head up to the observation deck?"The Doctor nodded, offering his arm. Romana simply shook her head and turned to move down the hallway. The Doctor frowned, but caught up with her. "They are losing faith in me." She said, keeping her eyes forward."Their expectations of you are entirely too steep, Romana. The Daleks are relentless. Anyone would have trouble facing them. The fact that we're still alive is a testament to your time in office."The two continued walking, making their way to the door leading up to the observation deck. The Doctor jogged ahead to the door, turning back to Romana. He waited there, watching her catch up. She approached The Doctor, crossing her arms and raising a brow. The Doctor turned back to the door. It stayed shut. There was a moment where neither of them made any movement. This was broken by an exasperated sigh on Romana's part. She stepped up to the door, opened it, and walked right through, shaking her head."Hopeless." She said, smiling to herself. The Doctor followed her up the stairs."Only most of the time." He replied.
: Ribos - The End of a Dance
In which Time Lord Soldier Mason guards Ribos against all threats, and acts as a bus boy for a Time Lord. Both jobs are very important.
"Soldier! Soldier! Private MASON!!!!"The Time Lord frustratingly searched around the base, his robes following him in a flurry. He was a foppish sort of fellow, his robes and skull cap were just too tight on his body, no doubt adding to his already sour mood."MASON!"His voice echoed throughout the base. No one liked being around when he was on his tirades. He had a disturbing penchant for humiliating those under him, and morale was at an all time low. Soldiers who weren't beaten down by Lord Fop (as he was colloquially called), were embittered towards him. A scientists, civilians, knew to keep away.The soldier he was looking for was a timid boy named Mason. He was the victim of one of thousands of recruitment drives across Time Lord history. He was taken from a time where the war had not naturally occurred. Was it before the war had started? After? Was there an after? Was there even a before by which to measure the start of this war? All Mason knew was that he was doing his duty. He had a purpose now. Sadly, that purpose was being a glorified busboy for Lord Fop. Mason took all of Fop's punishments. Being small in stature, he was an easy target for the unusually tall Fop.Fop was hulking down the corridor leading to the roof. He was fuming, all of his inherent self-importance the critical flaw of the Time Lords. Upon reaching the roof, Fop's eye a soldier standing at the edge of the platform, intently watching the horizon. Fop had no love for this planet. He had no love for the position he found himself in. He was a member of the upper echelon of Time Lord society. How dare they, he thought. How dare they assign him to this backwater planet. The place was barren, with no incidents occurring since he was sent here. Though he would never openly admit it, some part of him was glad nothing happened. However, he wanted glory. Glory did not come from doing nothing in some nowhere outpost at the edge of whatever system in the galaxy of who-gives-a-damn.The soldier was indeed the Mason that Fop was looking for. Mason was scanning the landscape for signs of trouble. He was one of the few who still took his duties seriously. Ribos was a planet in the medieval stage of development. It had no knowledge of the universe past the stars in its sky, and it was doubtful, Mason thought, that they even knew the full geography of their planet. T early in their possibly flourishing development. This war could end them, Mason thought. It could wipe them from existence and no one would remember them. Who would take the time to? Certainly not Lord Fop. Would Mason remember? He couldn't say.In these times of unrest, Mason would secure a guard shift on the roof. This was a place he could lose himself in the beautiful untouched landscape of the planet. R winter and summer, each lasting decades. It was winter now, light flakes performing a multitude of random dances through the air. Mason would look up at the white sky, the snow seeming to just pop into view, darting away as quick as they were spotted. As the snow fell, casting itself across Ribos, Mason's gaze did the same.Instead of dazzling spires, Mason found comfort in the low-dipping hills, dotting the whitened horizon like imperfections across the s grooves created by brush strokes that you could guide your finger through. These imperfections, contrary to everything Mason had known, were something that he reveled in. They gave the place a natural perfection, Mason thought. A natural perfection criminally unseen by the people of Gallifrey."MASON!" Lord Fop screeched.Whatever peace Mason had been able to glean was rather instantly torn away. He turned, bowing to Fop. He dipped his head low. He knew Fop liked it that way, and he didn't wish to anger him anymore than he already had."My dinner." He said, coldly.Among other duties, Mason found himself preparing Lord Fop's meals. His palette was outlandish, especially considering the primitive surroundings they found themselves in."Sorry sir!" He said, lips trembling. "I thought..."Mason was unceremoniously interrupted by Fop's screeching. "You thought?! What you think, boy, is of little consequence!"As Fop ranted, Mason sensed something was amiss. He couldn't place it, but something in the air had changed."I am commander of this outpost, and I must be well fed! What if there was an attack and I wasn't ready?!" Mason didn't answer. Fop had a terrible habit of neglecting to mark if he was speaking rhetorically or not."Well?!" He blared. "I am waiting!"Mason piped up. "With respect, Sir... I was watching for the attacks you should be prepared for. It was my shift after all."Mason didn't look up at him, trying to focus on this new feeling of his. Something dark was gnawing at him, and his mind screamed to know what it was. Fop's nostrils flared, the anger building continually."Fetch another guard, then!" As you can see, there is no danger! Nothing is coming! Nothing is..." As Lord Fop threw his arms outward to motion to the air around him, he paused.For once, the great Lord Fop was at a loss for words. Mason looked up, expectant of a verbal (or perhaps physical) lashing that never came. As he peered upwards, Fop seemed worlds away. It took Mason a moment to process what he was seeing. It was the snow. The dance had stopped, and the snow was frozen in midair."Wh-Wha...?" Lord Fop stuttered. "Are we under some sort of... t-temporal.. a-a-attack?!"He darted about the rood in a haze, glancing at the snow around him and wildly motioning, as if trying to make it move again. Fop had no such luck. Before he could turn his anger towards Mason again, a violent tremor seemed to shake the entire planet. The two of them were sent to the ground, slamming into it hard. The base shuddered, as if ready to crack and splinter under the weight of this unseen new force.Lord Fop's communication unit roared to life. "SIR! SIR! Are you alright? Something's... something's coming! Something large! Impossibly so! RIGHT TOWARDS US!" The soldier, a stern man named Rusch, was clearly panicking.Mason turned to see Lord Fop already running for the hallway leading inside. He followed soon after, taking one last look at the Ribos expanse. This look cost him everything, it seemed. As he started for the hallway, another tremor hit. This one was larger and even more powerful than the last, shaking the base so violently that he found that his feet were off the ground. He was tumbling through the air, trying desperately to grab at something to steady himself. By the time he realized he had been launched off the edge of the outpost, it was too late. He was falling, tumbling to the ground, so far below.
: Through the Looking Glass
In which The Doctor discusses his time in the Academy with Romana, and the War finally catches up with the two of them.
A "Castellan" in the case of Gallifrey is comparable to a Captain of the Guard.
The Doctor loved the observation tower. It was a reminder of hope for him. He cherished this because there were so few of those left, these days. He thought back to his time at the academy, when he was but a young man. He w playing incessant pranks, running off with friends. He would smile, remembering those bright times. The first time he was brought up there, at least officially so, was with his graduating class at the academy. They were being shown the fruits of their race's labor, the higher-ups trying to instill the patented Time Lord pride in them at an early age. Unofficially, he and his friends had broken in many times before the tower was completed.The Doctor thought back on his friends, The Decas. They were a curious lot, always sticking their noses in places they didn't belong. They were Gallifreyan rebels without a cause. They were Time Lord youth in revolt. Or at least The Doctor was. They truly did belong together. Their teachers knew it, and they knew it too. The struck an odd balance between top-notch students and dis a balance that The Doctor tried very hard to maintain over the years."I used to come here all the time, Romana. In my first life. Did I ever tell you?"As the two of them finally made their way up the stairs, she answered. "You never mentioned it. Though, back then, the tower wasn't quite finished? That is, if I'm remembering correctly?"The Doctor chuckled, moving over to the window. His hands met an ornate bronze railing, his fingers settling into the gentle grooves across its surface."No, it wasn't finished, but we had too many reasons not to come up here."Romana joined him, standing close enough so that their shoulders touched. It was a purposeful action, a small amount of co whatever that entailed in these troubled times."We?" Romana inquired."Yes, right.. I never told you about the Decas, did I?"The Doctor ran his hand through his hair, regarding the skyline. The buildings seemed to pierce the sky, standing tall and proud as its inhabitants did."You never mentioned them. We never really spoke of academy time."In Romana's case, there wasn't much to tell. She had worked hard. She worked harder than all her peers, studied for centuries, and committed herself to becoming someone worthy of the position she currently held. There was nothing to tell. It was a blur, culminating with a graduation at the top of her class, years ahead of everyone else. Feeling safe in The Doctor's presence, she picked a comfortable spot on the floor and sat down, crossing her legs."We were the top ten students in our class, I remember. We were the very best of friends."The Doctor's eyes traced the outline of the central spire as he spoke, trying to keep in mind the embellishments he was making, even as he spoke. The truth of his friends was not something he readily gave up to anyone, if only to spare those he still could hold close. The Doctor reached into his coat, pulling out his sonic screwdriver. He exam deep, meaningful eyes looking over it."My friend," He started, "My friend Drax was actually the one who convinced me to start working on this." He tossed it in the air, catching it expertly. "As a result, he's saved my life more times than I can count."Romana sat there, staring up at him. Why bring this up now? Was he trying to avoid other topics? Surely there were other, more important things to discuss besides his classroom antics. She refrained from interrupting, however. She wanted to know where The Doctor was going with this."One night, Koschei..." The Doctor hesitated as he said the name, as if the very uttering of it caused him pain or discomfort."Koschei convinced me to come to the top of the tower to cast our eyes on the unfinished spires in the distance. He wanted to relish in all of it. The Time Lord pride started early with him. He knew the screwdriver could get past the door, so we visited the deck regularly."The Doctor removed his jacket, hanging it on the railing with a great amount of care. He sat down in front of Romana on the floor, mimicking her posture. The tips of their knees touched."Koschei and I... we always did enjoy a good view, despite him not being the romantic. That was my burden to bear, it seems. Still, it was something we could share. The sun... would kiss the tops of the mountains when it rose. It filled the skeletal structures of the city, permeating, no, no, imbuing the city with a soft glow. We must have sat here for hours, whenever we could... Until..." The Doctor paused, unsure as to how to phrase the next words."Until?" Romana asked, sufficiently curious.The Doctor seemed to brighten up slightly as he spoke."Until the invisibility unit that Drax had built another two of my friends, Rallon and Millenia shorted out. Koschei and I caught them together up here." The Doctor shuddered slightly, the by-product of a stifled chuckle."Together?" Romana asked, quirking a brow."Yes. Right where you are sitting, actually." The Doctor said, the chuckle starting to break out.Romana immediately stood up, straightening her robes out in a huff. The Doctor watched her as she got up, continuing."Koschei wanted to blackmail the two of them. Always looking for something to hold over other people, he was. I convinced him to just let them be. You should have seen the two of them as we were talking about it in front of them. They were livid. It was quite funny, at the time.""You sounded like you lot were a nightmare..." Romana replied.She started pacing around the room, running her hand along the window every now and again."Only when we were bored." The Doctor pulled himself up, turning to face Romana with a curious look. "What are you doing?"Romana stopped, pulling her hand away from the window. "I... you're not the only one with rituals regarding this place, and mine are much less crass."The two shared a smile as Romana continued. "I sometimes come up here and run my hand along the glass. From a certain perspective, it looks as if my hands are touching the buildings themselves. Like... Like I'm some sort of god."The Doctor spoke up. "Romana..."She interrupted him before he could go on. "Please, let me finish." She sighed, collecting herself again. "I am the Lady President of one of the most powerful races the universe has ever seen. I can live for thousands of years, I can bend space and time... I may as well be a god. Yet the glass."Romana tapped the glass with her hand, the gentle pang ringing out through the room."The glass keeps me from actually touching the buildings... It grounds me. Reminds me that no matter what, that's not who I am. I have a duty to keep all of us safe. To make sure this glass doesn't shatter, so that we never become that which we are fighting, and we won't. We won't because I'm here. We won't because you're here, and we won't because this glass is here."The sun was setting over the mountains, the dwindling embers of sunlight were still shining and casting themselves over Romana. She was as strong as ever, thought The Doctor. As strong, as driven, and as beautiful as he had ever seen."What happened to them?" she asked, changing the subject, suddenly. "You friends, I mean."The Doctor paused, thinking about how he should answer. "Drax ran away, like I did."He told Romana the truth regarding Drax, if only to make the following lies more plausible."Rallon and Millenia are off exploring the cosmos, trying to document new things and report back every few centuries. They do love a good adventure."Romana smiled. "Sounds like us."The Doctor returned her smile, but it was hollow. The words of the Celestial Toymaker ran through his head."We shall play endless games together, your brain against mine!"He tried his best to suppress the words
possessed by the Toymaker all those years ago, turning Millenia into a doll, toying with her for an eternity of suffering."Yes," he said. "They do. The rest are out an about, nothing too noteworthy."A silence fell over the room."And Koschei..? What about him?"The Doctor, this time, did not answer. He wasn't sure he knew how. Before he could spout yet another lie, the Castellan came rushing through the door into the observation deck."Lady President!" He exclaimed. "You must come quickly!"Romana's posture immediately straightened. "What is it, Castellan?"He stood tall and proud, composing himself. "It's the Sontarans, Lady President! Their entire battle fleet! They're entering the Gyrako system!"The Castellan showed Romana a data pad he was carrying. Across the small screen, various diagrams portraying the fleet's position."Those idiots! That is one of our most delicate campaigns! Castellan. Escort me to the war room. We have to deal with this now."The Castellan bowed at Romana's words, moving towards the door. Romana followed, turning to the Doctor."Well? Come on then!"The Doctor immediately followed, worried about what was coming. It was only natural, at this point.
: Master - Moving with The Beat
In which another one of The Doctor's old friends investigates a violent skirmish between the Cybermen and the Daleks and a broken world serves as a backdrop.
The Capitol of Braxas was a story told across the universe. It was a metropolis, where all planetary matters were settled. It was a city of art, a city of culture, and a one of thousands dotting the cosmos. Braxas’ Capitol was a story told across the universe, and that story was a story of death. Like so many others, it was host to one of thousands of Dalek skirmishes. This fight was particularly brutal, for it was not simply a massacre. The Daleks did not storm in, killing all in sight. Instead, they were met with something entirely new. The Daleks had fought the Cybermen before, the latter never giving much resistance. They wer fuel for the Dalek war machine. Yet these Cybermen were different. Rumors of powers yet unseen floated on the air, abilities that the Cybermen were never capable of beforehand.Entire buildings fell under the weight of their battles, skyscrapers toppling, as if scraps of paper in the harsh, uncaring wind. Underneath them, transports, parks, and citizens were crushed. A thick red cloud sat wrapped around the city, blotting out the sun. Those who were still alive hid in the ruins of their once great city. It didn’t help. The Daleks found them wherever they hid, exterminating them with a terrifying efficiency. That same efficiency could be attributed to the Cybermen as they harvested the citizens, adding them to their cold army. They would take people, they would drag them away, and they would never be seen again.Gab, a student at the Capitol University, was never one to stand idly by during a crisis. His parents had always stressed preparation in all things, and that had carried over into this scenario. He was a man of two worlds, a man of arithmetic and a man of art. It was the inherent patterns he found in both that he found fascinating. The fact that the same idea across many mediums could create such beauty struck a chord in him. It was his eye for patterns that had kept him alive through all of this. He watched the Daleks and the Cybermen, scribbling out their patrol routes, waiting, watching, and recording. He planned meticulously, and accounted for every possible variable in his little notebook.However, something was bothering Gab. He could not quite place what it was. It was some new variable that was present, though he could not fully perceive it. He did not know it, but there was a new lamppost in the downtown square. Whenever his eyes fell on it, he felt as if as if it had always belonged. He was wrong of course, the lamppost had never been there before. He never paid it any mind, too busy with trying to keep himself alive. The Chameleon Circuit did its job, hiding the lamppost in plain sight. Inside, a lone Time Lord stood, scanning the cityscape. He was sent here on a covert mission, an instrument of destruction sent out on a simple scouting mission. Something was amiss, this much he knew.He was a man resembling a human male in his mid to late thirties. The face he wore was rather fresh, devoid of any facial hair. His head, matching his face was bald as well. As a result, his ears stuck out rather prominently, a feature he was not too proud of. Stern eyebrows sat above small, beady eyes, betraying any sort of sinister intent he held. A prominent and sharp nose was present, matching his ears. A rounded chin hung below a smaller mouth. He was a man of few words, this time around. For all his bluster in the past, The Master had little time for such things anymore.Strong fingers moved over his TARDIS console, making sure to keep his ship hidden in the midst of the combat. The center pillar wheezed expectantly, a soft green glow filling the room. He moved to a circular probe that was plugged into the console. He grabbed it, disconnecting it and tossed it into the air. It whirred to life, its small red eye lighting up.“Greetings, Master!” The small probe chirped. “Orders?” The Probe’s voice was rather high and had a sing-song quality to it. It grated on The Master’s ears.“There’s something odd that does not explicitly match Cyberman or Dalek signature to the southwest. You’re going to accompany me there and take readings. It’s something… different. Something I’ve never seen before. I intend to find out what it is.”There was a quality of childish joy to The Master’s voice that the probe was not programmed to pick up. Despite this, The Master’s voice was still cold, and carefully annunciated. He was as an actor on stage, the protagonist of his own personal tragedy.The Master clapped once, the doors of his TARDIS obeying him. The harsh winds bent around the raised shield around his craft. From a coat rack next to the console, he grabbed a long velvet coat. It was black, matching his trousers and undershirt. He threw it over his shoulders, connecting the buckles across the chest. He secured his gloves and boots, the whine of leather ringing out, an indication of his success. He turned back to the console, reaching for a small rectangular device. He turned it on, the device softly humming. He placed it in his pocket.“Old habits…” he muttered to himself.“Stealth field.” He said in a commanding tone.A small emitter popped up from the top of the probe, starting to spin. It spun faster and faster, starting to give off subtle pulsations of energy in a two meter radius around it. The Master stepped inside, becoming hidden from both sensors and the visible spectrum. As he moved towards the door, he reached for a charcoal-colored scarf. He wrapped it around his neck, pulling it over his face.“Old habits…” he repeated again, exiting his TARDIS.“Scan begin.” he said, moving through the wreckage.He stepped carefully, navigating the torn streets and toppled buildings. Bodies were strewn about, piled up after being killed or harvested. Blood pooled in the streets, and the air was thick with the stench of rot. The Master was no stranger to this. Among the dead humans, Cyberman carcasses and destroyed D some burning, some melted, and some torn apart from the inside. The Master’s footfalls created ripples in the pools. Bloody footprints followed in his wake. He stopped cold, the distinct sound of screams carrying on the wind catching his ears. Immediately after, his probe began beeping.“Abnormal temporal readings detected, abnormal temporal readings detected!"This gave The Master pause. The Cybermen had no access to such technology, and The Master would not have missed a Dalek Time Ship if it was present. This was something new.“Temporal?” He hissed. “Show me! Show me now!”The probe began floating towards the signature, The Master giving chase. Upon reaching the source, the two of them were faced with a downed hoverbus, with three humans trapped inside. The door had been fortified to keep all intruders out, but a lone Cyberman seemed intent on breaking through. It pounded on the door without relent.The Master drew as close as he dared, moving next to the bus to get a closer look.“Curious…” He whispered. The Cyberman seemed to be at the peak of its development, the prominent shoulder pads, internal workings centered on the chest, and distinct head shape devoid of the large flashlight-like device. It was with those observations, any familiarity with what this Cyberman in front of him was, ended. There was something else about it, something that was different from any Cyberman The Master had ever seen before. He squinted, trying to make it out. The Cyberman was covered in what appeared to be static, as if being viewed through a broken video monitor. It seemed as if it was there, yet it seemed as if it was not. The color was also wrong. The regular silver color was tinged purple. It was a collection of subtle things all adding to one large oddity.The humans, who appeared to be some sort of family, were completely unremarkable. The only thing of note about them was the fact that they were somehow alive after all this time. The Cyberman continued to pound on the door, the barrier somehow holding. It was then, the Cyberman spoke. Its voice was unlike any that The Master had ever heard, sounding like a poorly tuned radio.“Inside. Your. Head. We. Sit.”What happened next surprised even The Master, as the Cyberman began fading from view, dematerializing before his eyes.“Curiouser and curiouser…” The Master remarked to himself.Before he could take any further action, his probe began beeping again.“Temporal energy spike! Temporal energy spike!” The Cyberman quite suddenly rematerialized inside the bus, cornering the humans.“History. Weeping.”One of the men, the father, ran at the Cyberman, a show of pointless bravado. As he uselessly lashed out at it, the Cyberman slapped him aside, snapping his neck instantly. At the sight of the crumpled body, the mother wrapped her arms around her son. The Cyberman took great strides forward, the screaming of the humans ringing out. From the outside of the bus, all The Master saw was the splash of blood and brain matter against the interior window.“What does it mean..?” No sooner had The Master spoke, the Cyberman dematerialized leaving the broken bodies behind.Everything fell quiet when it disappeared, as if all sound had been stolen away. When it vanished, something began to well up from within The Master. Hairs on the back of his neck stood up right. Another sound began ringing through the air, akin to metal dragging slowly across more metal. It was the sound of a Dalek flying through the air.The damned thing had obviously been brought over by the abnormal energy signature, and landed immediately in front of him. He froze, not daring to move. Dozens of possible situations ran through his mind. There were seven out of all of them where he could escape with his life, two of which where he would not be grievously wounded, and one out of those two where he would make it back to his TARDIS. Even that plan had to many variables, and this Dalek was already too close. It rolled towards him, unaware of his presence. Its eyestalk craned about, scanning the area.“RECENTLY EXTERMINATED HUMAN SIGNATURES DETECTED.” The Dalek bellowed out, The Master wincing.Beads of sweat began to run down his face as he stood still, having no desire to leave the stealth field.“TEMPORAL DISCHARGE DETECTED.” The Dalek screamed.So, The Master thought, it could sense it too.The Dalek inched closer and closer, The Master not moving. The subtle displacements in the air due to his very standing there would be enough to alert it if he wasn’t careful. He cursed himself for not reaching for a weapon sooner. It was inches from his face now, close enough that he could stare directly into its eyestalk. He could see the harsh blue glow emanating from its eye shift and twist, as if trying to focus on him. His hand trembled slightly, taking all he had to reach for something.Quite suddenly, the Dalek’s eye went dark. “EMERGENCY. EMERGENCY. I CANNOT SEE!!!” it exclaimed.From the inside of the casing, there was a great and terrible gurgling sound, the Dalek inside obviously in distress. Its casing was being dented outwards with great metal bang, something trying to punch its way out. The Dalek let out one final scream of agony that seemed to shake the ground before the hand of a Cyberman, still covered in the blood of the human, burst out of the casing and grabbed The Master by the throat.The Cyberman burst out of the Dalek, its static aura still evident. It lifted The Master into the air.“Unhand me, damn yo- ARGH!!!” The Master was cut short by a violent electric shock erupting from the Cyberman’s fingertips, still wrapped around his throat.It kept him suspended off the ground, staring deep into his eyes. Their eyes were not dissimilar, both cold and dead – but there was no understanding between these two, no covenant to honor. There was only life or death. Its cold fingers voraciously closed around his throat, threatening to snap his neck.“Taking. Time. Apart.” The Master’s vision began to blur, nothing but the sound of drums remaining.
: The Time Lord Stratagem
In which the Sontarans demand entry into the Time War, and The Doctor and Romana respond.
The Castellan had lead The Doctor and Romana back to the war room. A small table of generals met with them, and a plan to negotiate with the Sontarans was proposed. The Doctor's opinion on the matter was that engaging in open conflict with the Sontarans would be a waste of time, resources, and possibly lives. Romana and the rest were incredulous, but eventually seemed to concede. The plan to negotiate had been The Doctor's, so he was assigned leadership of the operation. Romana, intent on preserving her worth as Lady President, was keen on coming along. She commissioned three battle TARDISes to come along with them, as a last resort if things were to go awry."How long has it been since we've ridden together?" The Doctor asked, as the two of them walked towards the hangar, flanked by the three crewmen coming along with them."Not since... hm..." Romana furrowed her brow.Remembering travels with The Doctor in terms of straightforward progression was difficult enough, further exasperated by the dozens upon dozens of paradoxes ravaging time due to the war."Not since... the anti-time incident." she finally replied.The Doctor offered her no response outside of a small grunt. Even by the standards of the Time War, the "anti-time incident" as Romana put it was not something he ever wanted to think about. As they all approached the TARDISes, The Doctor stepped in front of the group. He turned to them and stood at attention. He folded his arms behind his back, beginning to speak."Men, Lady President," he started, his tone offici a stance his dear friend the Brigadier had taken so many times before when addressing his soldiers.The Doctor lost himself in the memory as he spoke, mirroring Lethbrdige-Stewart's movements as they played out in his head."You honor me with your presence here. All of you. Today, we march forward on a mission of great importance. The Sontarans represent a dire threat. They've invaded us before, and if we allow them entry into this war, they will bathe the starways in blood of innocent and evil alike. Now, you lot, tell me, what regiment are you with?"A soldier standing in the back, rather small in comparison to the rest, spoke up. "The 10th timeborne division, Sir!" The Doctor regarded the smaller solider, walking up to him and peering downwards. "A strong voice from such a small boy! What is your name, son?"Romana watched, an amused smirk slowly crawling across over her face. She had seen The Doctor take positions of command before, but had never truly gotten used to it. The Doctor himself imagined himself during his fourth life, watching his friend command his soldiers and thinking how silly it all was. He was thankful he was able to learn so much from the man, and use it all now."Private Mason, Sir!"The Doctor appraised Mason, looking him over. Too often, The Doctor was the small man, trying his best in situations bigger than him. He had learned to appreciate this quality in others when he saw it."Good to know you, Private Mason. You understand all I've said, yes? That this is a mission of peace?"Mason nodded again. "Yes sir!"The Doctor stepped back, regarding the rest of the soldiers again. "We are not to fire on them. We talk them down, then we leave quickly. We cannot afford to burn any more resources than we already are. Can I trust all of you to follow my orders?"The soldiers all stood at attention, saluting in unison. "Yes sir!"The Doctor nodded. "GOOD! Now! Get to your TARDISes! The co-ordinates will be transferred to you. See you on the other side, gentlemen!" The Doctor bellowed, the soldiers running off to their ships, vanishing soon after. Romana and The Doctor made their way over to their familiar blue box."You seem to have fit into this role rather well." Romana remarked.The Doctor opened the door, swinging it open and finding comfort in the endearing creak it let out."As well as I've had to, Romana." The Doctor replied, his voice tired.He didn't like what he had become, but this was what he needed to do, personal feelings be damned."After you." he said.Romana entered the TARDIS, The Doctor following shortly after. He closed the door, and walked past her to the console. He started flipping various switches, attending to his bells and whistles. Romana looked around, the TARDIS not having changed much since she last saw it. It was still very gothic in nature, with ornate, wooden paneling running along the floor to the console. Innumerable clocks dotted the walls, all measuring various time zones across the universe and ticking like mad. Dressers filled with all sorts of random items and trinkets picked up from years of traveling, messy shelves and desks, this was a home. This was still a home, and Romana loved it. The ceiling served as a giant view screen. and she watched as the hangar faded away, replaced by the billowing time vortex.The Doctor turned to her and leaned on the console, resting his hands on the edges. He looked up, watching the smoky swirls wreathed in lightning as they flew. The wheezing and grinding of the central column was the only sound between the two of them. As the vortex swirled around their impossible little box, the two of them locked eyes, There was something they both felt. Something the two of them understood completely, while at the same time being unable to fathom. Whatever it was kept them from speaking. Was there nothing to say? The two of them knew this was not the case. Perhaps whatever needed to be said eluded them because they did not know how to say it. It was something always at the back of their minds, while simultaneously on the
and they didn't even know what it was. Perhaps they didn't need to know. Perhaps they always knew.
: The Empty Sky
In which the confrontation with The Sontarans comes to a head.
The Doctor and Romana came out of the Time Vortex, the three battle TARDISes following suit. Before them was an immense fleet. Thousands of Sontaran warships, stretching on as far as the eye could see. The ships were ready for a fight, the TARDIS sensors picking up that their weapons were ready to fire at a moment’s notice. The Doctor flipped a switch on the console, opening up a communication channel to the others.“Mason, come up on my starboard. The rest of you, to port. Line up in a straight line. That’s it…”The TARDISes lined up with The Doctor, floating side-by-side. The monitor hanging from the top of the central console began blinking repeatedly, the words “INCOMING TRANSMISSION” appearing in big block letters. The Doctor pulled the screen down and turned a dial on the side, focusing the picture. Through the static haze, the face of a rather cross Sontaran appeared on the screen.“And who do I have the honor of addressing this fine… er…” The Doctor looked over at the clocks spread across the wall of the TARDIS. “Evening. Right. This fine eveni-“The Doctor was cut off by the Sontaran before he could finish, a deep, booming voice blaring out of the screen. “You do not recognize the greatest Sontaran war leader OF ALL TIME? Puny, impudent TIME LORD! I am GRAND MARSHALL STRAAD! Great Commander of the almighty SONTARAN BATTLE FLEET!”Bits of spittle flying out of Straad’s mouth flecked across the screen on his side, Straad wiping them away angrily. The Doctor crossed his arms, looking over at Romana. She simply nodded. Motioning for him to continue.“Well…” The Doctor cleared his throat, “Consider me regaled, Grand Marshall Straad, Great Commander of the almighty Sontaran Battle Fleet. I-“Straad once again spoke up, interrupting The Doctor. “We care NOT! The Great Sontaran Empire desire entry into your WAR WITH THE DALEKS! The greatest war that HAS EVER BEEN! We will not be KEPT FROM IT! We desire THIS! We shall TAKE IT! We will BURN THE DALEKS ACROSS TIME! We will burn ALL WHO OPPOSE US! Sontar-HA! Sontar-HA! Sontar-HA!”The raising of voices across Straad’s ship was evident. His crew was cheering with him, losing themselves in their joyous chorus.The Doctor considered his options. The Sontaran race was a race built on war. It was fundamental to their very existence. They would snuff out the stars themselves if it meant they could have a good fight, and the resulting chaos was not something that Gallifrey could afford to deal with. Whenever Sontarans had tried to get into the war before, they were always in smaller teams, more than manageable by even a single TARDIS crew. This was a different matter entirely. This was on a scale that had not yet been seen. Romana stepped up to the screen, The Doctor standing aside.“Grand Marshall Straad!” Romana started, the Sontarans still chanting. “I am Romanadvoretrelundar. Lady President of Gallifrey. I implore you to see reason. I implore you to work with us to reach an accord.”The Doctor stepped forward in protest, but was stopped by Romana raising her hand.“There will be NO ACCORD! We will DESTROY T