The car's tires squealed frantically across the pavement splashing up rain water on bystanders caught in the young woman's wake. She watched them shrink in her rearview mirror, shaking their fists and shouting muffled obscenities, as she offered irrelevant apologies to their reflections. "Sorry!" she glanced back, then quick ahead, weaving in and out of slower-moving traffic on the otherwise steady morning road. "Come on, come on!" she pleaded with the traffic light that had just turned to red in front of her. She drummed nervously on the steering wheel while looking at the cars in all directions around her, searching for a short cut. She noticed a right turn just ahead, a road she had never noticed before, probably due to her usual morning rush, she decided. None of the other cars were going that direction and hoping for a short cut she turned down the small, empty, rural road.
She tapped a few touchscreen icons on her windshield mounted GPS. A quick digital ding responded, awaiting her command. "Re-route," she ordered, then awaited the updated information regarding her destination. "Please, please be quicker," she muttered, afraid that this unexpected detour might actually make her trip into town longer than her original course. The spinning icon on the GPS' display stopped, accompanied by a triangular caution sign, an emboldened exclamation point and a message reading No new route available. "Are you kidding me!" she exclaimed, tapping the touchscreen buttons furiously, hopelessly wishing that would correct some kind of technical error in the device. She rounded a sharp curve in the midst of her frenzied tapping, looking up just in time to notice a tall blue box standing directly in the middle of the road. "Whoa!" she shouted, slamming on her breaks and sliding to a stop just inches from the object in front of her.
"What now?" she said, defeated, climbing out of her car to investigate the road block, checking the front of her car for damage. She noticed some lettering above what appeared to be a door at the front of the box. "Police public call box?" she wondered. "What's that?"
"That!" a voice called out from the other side of the box. "That is a telephone box from the 1960s which people could use to call the police for help or to get information before the days of cell phones and iPads and telecalls—" he checked his watch—"which you shouldn't have or know about yet, so never mind that last one." A tall man with dark, styled hair and a prodigious chin suddenly appeared from the other side of the box. He was pointing an instrument with a green light at the end in all directions which emitted a sharp whirring noise as he directed it from place to place. He spoke without looking in the young woman's direction, always studying the instrument in his hand.
"And why is there a telephone box in the middle of the road?" she asked confused and frustrated at his nonchalance in the middle of her hurry.
"Oh, yes, sorry about that," he answered, still studying his device. "I landed it here on accident. I was on my way to the Transparentia Galaxy which, as obvious as it sounds, is an entirely transparent galaxy. Not the most inventive moniker, I'll admit, but can you imagine? Whole see-through worlds full of see-through people in see-through cities and see-through buildings! Probably not the most comfortable washroom situations, I'd imagine, but like anything else you'd eventually get used to it, I suppose."
"Do what?" she questioned, shaking her head, at this point more confused than previously. "What are you talking about? What do you mean you 'landed' a telephone box?"
He flicked the prongs on the device in his hand closed as the light and noise suddenly stopped. "Seriously? I just told you about a galaxy full of transparent people and you're still stuck on the 'landed a telephone box' part?" He finally looked in her direction, scanning her with his green-lighted device. "I'm sorry. Where are my manners. You'll have to forgive me. Long trip. What's your name, dear?"
"Uh, Susan," the girl answered warily, uncertain as to why she felt she could trust this man.
"Susan! Brilliant!" the man exclaimed. "Excellent name. I once knew a horse named Susan. I do hope he's doing okay—er, did okay. The world's not always been so understanding as it will be."
The young woman shook her head, wiping her shoulder-length brown hair from her face. "Um, alright? And you are?"
"Ah, yes, of course. I'm The Doctor." He paused, as if awaiting her response.
She looked at him, puzzled. "So you're a doctor?"
"Not a doctor, The Doctor," he answered quickly, and paused once more, still awaiting her response.
She starred at him blankly. "Alright, then. The Doctor. Sorry," she answered.
His head sunk in disappointment and he let out an audible sigh. "So you're not going to ask, then?"
"Ask what?" she countered.
"Oh, just never mind. It's no fun if I have to lead you to it," he scoffed and turned back to studying the area around him with his green-lighted instrument.
"What is that thing in your hand? Some sort of flashlight or something?" she questioned.
"It's a screwdriver. A sonic screwdriver, actually," he answered. "So you'll ask about the screwdriver but not about the mysterious stranger with excellent hair who claimed he landed a telephone box? Heh, people."
Incredibly confused by their exchange, Susan suddenly remembered that she had somewhere important to be. "Okay, sure. Screwdriver. Nice hair—"
"Excellent hair!" he countered, hand-combing it in place.
"Whatever. Can you please just move your, uh, telephone box out of the way? I really need to go."
"It's not a telephone box," he replied.
"Well that's what you said it was," she said.
"Well that is what it is, it just isn't," he answered. "It looks like a telephone box, but that's really just a cloaking device. Ha!" he laughed.
"A 'cloaking device'?" she replied, sarcastically, imitating quotation marks with her fingers. "For what?"
"For a space ship. Well, a time machine, technically, but it's a space ship, too. It's called the TARDIS," he answered, still studying his screwdriver.
The woman laughed, "A space ship? Ha ha! Oh, you can't be—oh whatever!"
He looked back, "No, really. I promise. It's a space-ship-slash-time-machine called the TARDIS. It stands for Time and Relative Dimen—"
"And why should I believe you, 'The Doctor'?" she interrupted, once more sarcastically. "I mean why would you go to all the trouble of disguising a space ship if you're just going to go around telling everyone you meet what it really is?"
He nodded, "Fair point, o-kay," he conceded. "The reason I'm telling you this is because I need you to trust me, because I need to trust you so when I ask you something I'll know that you'll be telling me the truth," he answered breathlessly.
"And what do you need to know?" she asked.
"Where were you?" he questioned.
"What do you mean where was I? I've been here the whole time!" she exclaimed.
"No, I know that, but I mean where were you right before I met you here," he explained. "I know when we are right now. Or at least when we're supposed to be. Two-thousand-thirteen, correct?"
"Uh, yeah," she responded.
"But where? What country, what state or province?" he asked once more.
"Uh, Illinois? America?" she answered getting more and more frustrated with every nonsensical moment that was passing.
"Illinois? America?" he asked studying the handle of his screwdriver. "What in the world is Illinois doing here?"
"What in the world is Illinois doing where?" she asked.
The Doctor started to answer, then hesitated. "This road, how did you get here, exactly?"
She looked at him questioningly. "I took a right off of Patterson Road. I was sort of hoping it'd be a shortcut because, once again, I really need to be going," she emphasized.
"Well there's no shortcut here, I'm afraid. In fact, this road is the furthest thing from a shortcut there's ever been," he replied.
"And why's that?" she countered.
"Because this road doesn't technically exist, or at least it didn't until about ten minutes ago. That's when I landed here and now I'm stuck. The temporal energy surrounding this road is fixed—time-locked—and whatever force is holding it in place disabled some of the equipment on-board the TARDIS on impact." He slid his screwdriver into his inner coat pocket.
She wasn't sure if she trusted him, but his demeanor indicated to her that at least he believed what he was saying. "So what's at the other end of this road?" she asked.
"Not sure. Would you like to find out?" he asked, smirking.
"And why should I believe any of this anyways?" she replied.
He nodded once more, "Again, fair point. Follow me," he said, unlocking the doors to the TARDIS and heading inside.
"What? In there?" she asked, slowly approaching the open door and looking inside. "Is there even room in there for both of—" she stopped as she stuck her head through the door, surprised by the metallic walls and impressive equipment scattered about the interior of the control room. She then hurried inside, then back out, around and back inside once more. "This place it's, it's—"
The Doctor, smiling, said, "I know, I know."
"It's bigger on the inside!" she exclaimed.
"Well, finally!" The Doctor replied. "So, you're not a complete drag after all."
"But how...I mean, how is this even possible?" Susan asked still looking around the TARDIS in amazement.
"Oh, it's all very technical, spacey, impressive-sounding jargon, but suffice to say—well, no, actually, don't. It's a very long explanation with a large amount of very big words which I much enjoy giving, but right now there are more pressing matters." The Doctor headed back outside, leading Susan along and closing the door behind them.
"The nonexistent road, you mean," she replied.
"Yes, yes, of course. I take it you believe me about that now?" he responded.
"Well, yeah, I guess so. I mean, I still have no idea who you are or what that thing over there is, but I definitely can't explain that so I'm just gonna take your word for it for now," she conceded, a bit more relaxed finally.
"Excellent! So, next order of business, then. Would you mind if we used your car to find out what's at the other end of this road?" he asked.
"Oh, no, no, no, no way," Susan answered, walking back towards her car still sitting by the TARDIS.
The Doctor slumped with disappointment. "Well, what do you mean 'no'? Aren't you even the least bit curious what's sitting at the other end of the road that shouldn't even be here in the first place?"
"Oh, yes, very," Susan replied. "It's very interesting and all that, but like I've said, I really, really, need to be going."
The Doctor threw up his arms in dramatic frustration, "Going where? What could possibly be more important at this moment than getting to the bottom of this very fascinating situation? It is very fascinating, remember?"
"Very fascinating," Susan said in a patronizing tone. "But, unfortunately, I'm already late for a very fascinating appointment back in Illinois," she opened her door and climbed into the driver's seat.
The Doctor tried to open her passenger side door, but it was locked. He knocked frantically on the window until Susan unlocked his door and he climbed into the passenger seat. "Susan, Susan, I'm not sure you understand. You shouldn't have even been able to find this place. I'm still not sure how you went about that one, but regardless, the chances of you being able to go back out the way you came are slim to none. This road is a temporary portal across time and space. Temporary. As in not forever. We could be light years away from Illinois by now."
Susan buckled her seat belt, "Well, that's a risk I'm just going to have to take." She threw the car into reverse.
The Doctor threw up his hands once more, "Alright, fine! Have it your way, then." He sunk back in his seat and crossed his arms, scowling out the window.
Susan laughed in disbelief, "I'm sorry, but you don't really think you're coming with me, do you?"
"Well of course I do. Whatever's back there is not guaranteed to be safe and I can't very well let you go it alone, now can I?" he argued.
"I'm a big girl. I'll be fine," she countered.
"Well regardless of your size, I'm afraid I insist. Now. We can sit here debating this all day if you'd like. I've got loads of time. Made of it. Quite literally. Or you can just accept the fact I'm going with you and we'll see what's going on back in good ol' Illinois. Whaddya say?" The Doctor smirked and settled more comfortably into his seat.
Susan shook her head. "Alright. Alright, fine, whatever. But when I get to my appointment you can not come. Seriously. Got it?"
"Got it, Mum!" The Doctor answered, saluting.
Their argument settled, Susan backed her car away from the TARDIS and headed back the way she had come. As they drove down the winding, rural road, The Doctor scanned the hillsides with his sonic screwdriver, studying the instrument closely. Susan watched carefully around corners although no other cars, or any signs of life for that matter, appeared to be anywhere near. As they rounded one of the many twists and turns on the desolate road, Susan shot up in her seat, surprised by what she saw in front of them. "Doctor, how is that possible?"
The Doctor, also taking notice, straightened up slowly as if attempting to decipher the illusion. "I don't know, Susan. But I don't think you're going to make it to your appointment on time." The two starred in mutual disbelief, The Doctor smiling with anticipation, Susan looking more distraught. The TARDIS sat in the middle of the road in front of them, their car on the opposite side of the box that they had just driven away from.
"But we were going the other way, weren't we?" Susan asked.
"Yes. Yes we were. But apparently, that other way is the same way as the other way," The Doctor concluded, the pair getting out of the car and walking toward the TARDIS.
"But how is this possible?" Susan asked once more, trying to make sense out of the situation.
"How is anything possible, dear? Lots of things are possible. In fact, almost everything is possible. Not everything is possible, though, mind you. If so then one possibility would be that nothing at all is possible and then everything would be impossible. So, really, this isn't all that unusual," The Doctor reasoned.
Susan chuckled nervously, "Not, 'all that unusual'?" she questioned. "Maybe not for you in your 'time-machine' with your 'sonic screwdriver' and space and aliens and all that but for me—Oh. My. God! You're an alien! You're an alien, aren't you?" Susan said, stepping back a few feet.
"Oh, um, yes. Yes I am. Sorry, I thought I'd mentioned that already," The Doctor answered, looking around for any sort of evidence that he might be able to find to help to explain their current situation.
"But how do you look like us? Is that a cloaking device, too? Or a space suit or something? Are you small and green in there like on television?" she asked uncertainly.
"What? No! Don't be ridiculous, Susan. I don't look like you. You look like me, actually. My people were the Time Lords. We existed first," The Doctor replied.
"So where're the rest of you, your people?" she questioned.
"That's another long story which we will get to eventually, but right now let's focus," The Doctor answered. "I need you to think, Susan. Why are we here? What could this place be? Does anything stand out? Anything different or out of the ordinary?"
"Seriously?" Susan answered quickly.
"Oh, well, you know, besides all that!" The Doctor said, realizing the irony in his question. "But just think. How were you able to find this place? Did you pass by any strange buildings or see anything different on your way prior to pulling onto the road, itself?"
Susan though carefully about her commute, "No. No, I'm sorry, I don't remembered anything else unusual about this morning. I mean, it's possible, but I was in such a rush that I didn't pay very much attention."
"Yes, yes! Of course! Oh you are thick, Doctor! You're getting so very, very thick in your old age," The Doctor scolded himself. "This appointment you keep mentioning, where was it at? Did it involve anything unusual or particular that may have caused you to be targeted?"
"Targeted?" Susan asked in shock. "What do you mean 'targeted'? Targeted by what?"
"By whatever brought you here. By whatever made this portal in the first place. They were clearly after something very specific to open an intergalactic portal terminating in Illinois. So what was it? Why now? Why you?" he stepped closer toward Susan with each word, backing her up slowly against the side of her car.
"I don't know. I don't know why me or why now!" she answered looking around somewhat nervously.
"No, no, I don't believe that, Susan," The Doctor said accusingly. "I believe there's more to you than you're letting on. I've known lots of people, Susan— some special, some ordinary—but lots and lots of people in my twelve hundred years and I've gotten pretty good at knowing when I'm being put on. So, please, let's try this once more. Why you, Susan? And this time, the truth."
The Doctor starred at Susan dead in her eyes. She felt threatened, but not exactly afraid of him. It was more like when a parent scolds their child, she decided. She started to speak reluctantly, "Alright. You're right, Doctor."
"I usually am," he replied.
"There's something in the trunk of my car. I'm not sure what it is. It's in a lockbox. I was supposed to deliver it this morning, that's why I was in such a hurry. I got the box last night and was given an address to be at this morning, but I swear that's all I know about it!" she admitted.
"Right. Okay, then. That's better. Thank you, Susan. I appreciate the honesty and I'm sorry if I sounded cross. I get a bit carried away sometimes," he apologized, smiling once more. "Well, come on then, let's see it," The Doctor requested.
Susan moved to her trunk, opened it and retrieved a matte grey metal box. It was the size and shape of a briefcase, only slightly thicker, with a handle on either side and a single keyhole near the top. By the way Susan struggled to lift the box, The Doctor assumed the contents were much denser than its apparent size would suggest. "Here, give me a hand with this thing," Susan motioned fore The Doctor to take one handle from her and the two sat the lockbox on the ground.
The Doctor attempted to unlock the box with his sonic screwdriver, although it failed to do so. "Well that was unexpected."
"What's wrong?" Susan asked.
"The screwdriver is typically able to open any lock. Unless it's made of wood, of course, " The Doctor replied.
"Oh, of course," Susan patronized.
The Doctor shot her a know-it-all glance and preceded to explain, "So unless we're dealing with a wooden lock for a heavy metal box, which seems unlikely, there's only one alternate explanation—a deadlock."
"And a 'deadlock' would be...?" she questioned.
"The most sophisticated and secure security mechanism in all the universe. It's the only kind of lock whose mechanism is resistant to sonic technology."
"Besides wood...you mean?" Susan joked.
"Yes, well. I'm working on that, alright," The Doctor scoffed. "Fat lot of good that would do use here, anyways with a deadlocked metal box. We need to find out where it came from, but there don't appear to be any markings." The Doctor though for a moment while examining the box, "Who were you supposed to be delivering this to, anyways?"
"The person I spoke to didn't give me very many details. Just where to pick the box up and where to take it to," Susan answered.
"And where was that?" The Doctor followed up.
"An abandoned industrial park in downtown, The Lancaster Compound. It's been vacant for a decade or so now," she answered.
"And it never occurred to you to question why someone wanted you to deliver a mysterious package to an abandoned industrial park in downtown Illinois?" The Doctor asked.
"No, not really. I mean, I already knew why. It's stolen," Susan answered.
"Stolen?" The Doctor asked in surprise. "What do you mean stolen? From who?"
"Stolen as in it doesn't belong to whoever gave it to me or where it was going. And I don't know who. Like I said, there weren't many details," she answered.
"So what makes you think it's stolen then?" The Doctor interrogated.
"Because that's what I do. That's why they contacted me. I recondition illicit property and oversee its transport from one person or entity to another for a nominal fee," Susan explained.
"So in other words you're a thief," The Doctor countered.
"Well that doesn't sound nearly as professional, now does it?" Susan replied. "Besides, people always look at you with such judgment when you tell them you're a thief."
"Perhaps because it's wrong," The Doctor accused.
"Hey, listen. I do what I need to do to get by. I don't know how aware you are of it, but 2013 isn't exactly an open market for college dropouts with no local connections. I know it's not an honest living, but it's worked for me so far," Susan argued.
"Yes, well. Be that as it may, it looks like you've bitten off a bit more than you can chew with this job," The Doctor said. "What else can you tell me about the person or people who contacted you? Was it a man, woman, a group of people? No names or titles or anything at all?"
"The whole exchange was done through email. Honestly, I thought it might have been some sort of sting operation or something. The whole situation sounds a bit storybook. 'Pick up a mysterious package from the anonymous stranger, deliver it to the creepy ol' industrial park'. But a job's a job and you can't be too picky these days," Susan recalled. "There was one thing, though, come to think of it. The last message said when I got to the park I'd have to use a buzzer on the gate outside. I wouldn't see or hear anybody, but I was supposed to say the Robin sent me. Some sort of code or something I guessed."
"Robin? What sort of malicious ne'er-do-well is named Robin these days?" The Doctor said. "It's a very strange situation, indeed. And, unfortunately, not one we're going to figure out by sitting around here all day. We need to find something, anything, that might help us find a way out of this place. I'll look over here, you take over there," The Doctor directed.
As he stood up to walk away, Susan stopped him, "So what? I tell you I'm a criminal and now you're just trusting me to help get you out of here? And for that matter, why should I trust you? Maybe you've got something to do with all this. Why else would you be here, after all? Why should I believe anything you tell me?"
"Because I'm stuck in here the same as you. If I had anything to do with this, I would have retrieved the package straight away and dispatched of you through some nefarious means, don't you think?" The Doctor asked.
"Well, yeah, I suppose so," Susan agreed.
"Besides, we all have our past misdeeds and I'm in no position to judge you for yours right now. Let's just call it honor among thieves, whaddya say?" The Doctor smiled.
"You're a thief, too?" she asked. "How convenient."
"Oh believe me, it's been anything but," The Doctor replied. "Quickly, now. Get to looking."
The pair set about picking carefully through bushes and branches, raking back leaves and turning over stones. Susan, not quite sure what she was supposed to be looking for, watched The Doctor and did as he did, figuring he was not as clueless as her in this regard. She watched as he scanned the surroundings with his screwdriver, tasted dirt from his fingertip and placed his ear next to several of the trees and knocked rapidly on their side. "I take it this isn't your first rodeo?" Susan joked.
The Doctor laughed, "Ha, no I should say not. I seem to find myself in situations like this a lot these days. One time it actually did include a rodeo. So even if this were an actual rodeo, it still wouldn't be my first."
"If a person didn't know any better, they'd think you go looking for trouble by the way you tell it," Susan replied.
"And what makes you think you know any better, eh?" The Doctor smirked.
"I never said I did," she smirked right back.
The Doctor started to reply, then noticed, "Hang on,"—knock, knock—"this one's hollow." He scanned the exterior of the tree. "And it's emitting a transuniversal communications signal."
"How's a tree emitting a communications signal?" Susan asked.
The Doctor fiddled with the handle of his screwdriver, "Because it's not actually a tree. It appears to be nothing more than an artificial projection of nature to make us think we're outside when in reality...," he paused, "...we're in a prison." He reached inside the tree and flipped a hidden switch which sent the rural backdrop scattering away. Instead, they now found themselves standing in austere, metal room. There were no windows and only a single reinforced door with no handle on their side; a row of stark fluorescent lights cast a harsh blue light around the room.
"Well, I think I'd have preferred if you'd have left that one alone," Susan remarked, looking around the small dark room.
The Doctor ran to the door and attempted to sonic it open, "Damn. Deadlocked," he said, then ran to a small terminal in the corner of the room which had appeared where the tree had been. The Doctor typed frantically on the small control console, eyes glued to an attached monitor, "Oh, it's not so bad. You've just got to look at the bright side, that's all."
"And that would be?" Susan asked.
"Well, I don't know! We've been imprisoned in a cell by unknown captors with no food, water and apparently no restroom in which we ended up when we both accidentally entered an intergalactic portal made to look like some rural back-road after you stole some mysterious, impregnable metal box and were told to deliver it to an enigmatic figure in an abandoned industrial park in downtown Illinois. I was obviously lying to make you feel better. It's called, 'being polite,'" The Doctor answered.
"Well it works better if you don't admit to it immediately after doing it!" Susan exclaimed.
"Right. Well..." The Doctor said. "Regardless, I'm currently trying to trace the communications signal back to it's point of origin to see if we can contact whoever it is that has us trapped here." The Doctor continued typing until a loud beep sounded on the console. "There we go," he pressed a switch on the console and leaned in. "Hello? Hello, can anybody hear me?" Silence. "Hello? Hello, is there anybody on the other end of this line?" The Doctor continued.
A voice broke through the silence on the other end. "Hello. Who is this? You are not authorized to use on this line. This is a secure line, to be used only by authorized personnel unless otherwise permitted by Sontaran High Command!" the voice answered.
"The Sontarans?" The Doctor said to himself. He pressed the switch, "This is The Doctor. You seem to have my friend and me trapped in a prison cell and we'd appreciate it if you would hurry up and let us out."
"And he's supposed to just let us out then? Just like that?" Susan questioned.
"No, they'll probably just kill us now that they know I'm here. Never hurts to ask, though. Not exactly like we're on the verge of anything more productive how we are, eh?" The Doctor answered.
"Kill us?" Susan shouted. "Why would they kill us? We've not done anything wrong!"
"Well, perhaps you haven't, at least to them anyways. But you are in possession of what I'd assume at this point is stolen Sontaran property and you're in here with me," he replied.
"And what's wrong with being in here with you?" she asked.
The Doctor hesitated. "Let's just say I have a bit of an, um, reputation with these blokes."
"What sort of reputation?" Susan glared at The Doctor.
He paused. "Not a good one," he finally answered.
The voice crackled to life on the console once more, "After consulting with the officers of the Sontaran High Command, they have hereby granted your request for release from imprisonment."
The Doctor smiled at Susan, "Well, that's good news then, eh?"
The voice continued, "Please standby as we transport your containment unit aboard our Command ship. Upon landing you will be asked to surrender yourselves to a prison guard unit who will then direct you to their ship's prisoner correctional facilities for you summary execution. A customary Sontaran victory reception will be held in the mess hall afterward which your companion is welcome to attend prior to his or her own execution which is currently being scheduled by Grand Strategic Command. Please enjoy your trip."
The Doctor frowned, "And that was decidedly less comforting to hear." He stood up and began pacing around to cell as the room swayed gently back and forth around them.
"Oh my God! I'm going to die on an alien space ship," Susan declared.
"Oh, hush up, now. No one's going to die," The Doctor reassured.
Susan wiped the beginnings of tears from her eyes, "You really don't think so?" she asked.
"Everything's going to be fine," The Doctor reiterated. A moment later the room shook violently, apparently signaling their arrival aboard the Sontaran ship.
The deadlocks on the door released and it slid open revealing a unit of twenty fully-armored Sontaran troops on the other side, their guns already aimed in their prisoners' direction. "Prisoners. Please extend your arms forward for arrest and do not attempt to resist. We will proceed immediately to the execution auditorium once we have ensured your restraint," the apparent leader of the guard unit directed.
Susan shot a furious glance at The Doctor, "I thought you said everything was going to be fine!"
"Well, exactly how long am I supposed to wait before admitting I was lying once again?" The Doctor asked as the two had their hand and feet manacled. The entourage made their way down blue-metal corridors past marching armor-clad Sontaran soldiers who shot beady-eyed glances at the prisoners. Their captors lead them into a large, sleek auditorium in which thousands of soldiers sat, lining the walls of the stadium from wall to wall, ceiling to floor. The ambient chatter of a thousand identical voices stopped at once the moment the guard unit lead The Doctor and Susan onto an elevated platform in the exact center of the room.
Their helmets off, Susan noticed that all of the Sontaran's appeared to be precise copies of one another. "Doctor? Why do they all look the same?"
"Ah, yes! Well, that would be because they all are the same. The Sontarans adopted a strict method of pure genetic reproduction a very long time ago. All of these soldiers are exact genetic copies of each other, or at least the ones who were produced in the same genetic batch, anyways. Sort of takes the fun out of the whole propagation-of-the-species ordeal, but they are a proud warrior race whose soul objective is intergalactic war and conquest," The Doctor explained.
"Oh. Well. There goes using my womanly-wiles to get us out of here, I guess," Susan chuckled nervously.
"Yes, I'd already considered that as well, believe me," The Doctor added to which Susan's elbow responded to his side. "Ow!"
One of the Sontarans, apparently the leader of this particular crowd, stood on a balcony a few stories above the floor over-looking The Doctor and Susan on the platform. After the crowd had silenced, the leader began to speak, his tone heavy and deliberate, "Doctor. Human companion. My name is Stalwart the Certain, senior member and representative of the Grand Strategic Council. You stand before us today accused of crimes against the Sontaran race and facing execution for these crimes. Is there anything you'd like to say?"
The Doctor stepped forward, smirking, "Oh, we get a chance to plead our case? Brilliant!"
"No," Stalwart replied, succinctly. "There will be no trial. It is simply customary and honorable to offer your adversary the chance to speak their final words prior to a public execution. We're not savages, Doctor."
"No, no, of course not!" The Doctor agreed, "But let me ask you this. Where is the honor in publicly executing one of your greatest adversaries in the first place? Wouldn't it be much more honorable to meet me on the battlefield where we would have an equal chance to send each other off this mortal coil in a blaze of infinite glory?"
"Quite," Stalwart answered. "However, considering our past encounters with you—and our subsequent failures at disposing of you in a more honorable fashion—the Council has decided it to be in our best interest to deal with you immediately in spite of our traditional reservations. Your existence poses a great threat to our cultural objectives and as such, it has been deemed necessary that we forgo standard operating procedures in lieu of the advancement of our species."
"Now where's the fun in that, eh?" The Doctor retorted.
Ignoring this response, Stalwart continued, "It has been further decided that your companion—"
"Susan," The Doctor added.
"Yes. Susan. It has been decided that Susan shall be imprisoned until which time we can investigate and determine how she came to be in possession of Sontaran war spoils," he declared.
"Ah, well, that's good. No execution for you then, at least," The Doctor said to Susan.
"Until we have discovered the means by which she came into said possession of our spoils, Doctor. Afterward, she will be executed," Stalwart added.
"Okay, I am really going to have to make sure they're done talking before looking for the silver linings from now on," The Doctor said. "Say, Stally, ol' pal. What exactly did Susan have possession of anyways, just between us convicts...and the, uh, thousand or so of you gents?" he questioned.
"Ms. Susan was found to be in possession of a box which we had placed in our spoils collection upon apprehension of the leaf-thing," Stalwart answered. "The leaf-thing was a prisoner of ours as well, facing charges following the destruction of one of our patrol ships. He was believed to have been the individual responsible for the ship's destruction and we were holding him until our investigation had completed."
"The leaf-thing?" The Doctor asked himself, curious about the designation. "But how could one man take out an entire Sontaran patrol ship by himself? There had to be a thousand troops on that ship, not to mention all the security equipment."
"The leaf-thing released a neurotoxic gas aboard the ship which eliminated nearly every soldier before they were even aware that a threat was present. Unfortunately, they had their guard down and the majority were not wearing their protective helmets which could have filtered out the poison. It was an act of utter cowardice and one which we fully intend to avenge. An undetonated canister of the toxin was found on the prisoner when we apprehended him attempting to escape in one of the ship's emergency vessels. He claimed he was merely a stowaway and that the canister was already in the escape pod when he entered it in an attempt to flee the attack. That same canister was detected in the box you and your companion had with you in the prison cell. We had programmed that cell and hundreds like it with a sensory mechanism to locate and return the specimen for further analysis in an attempt to create some additional precautionary measures should we ever be exposed to the substance again. The cell's perception filters had been programmed to mimic a natural, wooded environment in an attempt to lure in the leaf-thing as we assumed he would be carrying the canister. Once it detected the presence of the canister it was to sever the intergalactic channel between our command ship and the canister's location, thus imprisoning the fugitive. Our plan appears to have been successful in all but one regard," Stalwart explained.
"But I didn't know what I had, your honor!" Susan shouted in her defense.
"That is true, Stalwart," The Doctor defended. "Susan was anonymously contracted by an as-of-yet-unknown individual and asked to deliver that parcel to a discrete location back on Earth."
"Where on Earth, Doctor?" Stalwart questioned.
"Ah, you see that's where this whole conversation starts to fall apart, I'm afraid," The Doctor answered. "For if we were to tell you where you could find this individual, what more use to you are we?"
"Blackmail is a coward's game!" the Sontaran warned, his voice shrill with impatience.
"And what of trickery and entrapment, then?" The Doctor countered. "Those are not ideals promoted by the Sontaran race. I've seen enough of you to know."
Stalwart straightened up with pride, "The Sontarans have always valued strategy!" he proclaimed.
"And it appears as though you're starting to value hypocrisy, councilman," The Doctor said sharply.
The Sontaran smashed his fist onto the railing of the balcony, "You dare call me a hypocrite, Doctor? The great pacifist for whom others sacrifice their life? The legendary peace-maker who eliminates whole civilizations as it suits his needs? His own people, even?"
Stalwart's words dripped with venom as they pierced The Doctor's hearts. Susan looked at The Doctor in disbelief, taken aback by what the Sontaran claimed. He turned his head to her, caught sight of her surprise and lowered his eyes in shame. "That was different, councilman. What I did was necessary, though I regret it every day."
The councilman scoffed, "You are not above us. You are no better than those you claim to protect the innocent from. You call yourself the protector of Earth while other planets speak of you in whispers for fear of your wrath. Even your precious Gallifrey fell victim to your judgment. Spare us your self-righteous indignation, Doctor."
The Doctor's breath felt heavy in his chest as tears began welling in his eyes. He thought of Gallifrey and of his people. He remembered the faces from Demon's Run and the carnage of Zarathustra. He saw the faces of Rory and Amy in his mind, and heard the last words of Clara Oswald echoing as each time she died again in his mind. He felt the cold absence of River Song. "You're right," he said through trickling tears. "You're absolutely right. I am a destroyer. I am utter devastation!..." he lost his breath, then quietly rumbled, "I am the oncoming storm." The Doctor took a long, solid breath, then continued, "I am all these things of which you accuse me. And as such, I'm your only hope."
Stalwart leaned forward on the railing at which he stood, intrigued, "Go on."
"Think about it, councilman. This individual has already bested you once before. An entire patrol ship gone—obliterated without the slightest warning. And now you hope to seek him out? What makes you think he'll be any less prepared the next time? And he's already escaped you once. He's seen your army, he's sat in your prison. He knows you better than you know him. And he's armed. He's armed with a weapon that has already destroyed a thousand Sontarans and chances are he's prepared to slay a thousand more. You said earlier that your people value strategy. What sort of strategy is running headlong into your own destruction?" The Doctor stared directly at the councilman, his eyes on fire with anger and pain.
"As I said, Doctor," the councilman replied, "our soldiers have the benefit of experience this time and will be fully armored. Our helmets can filter out the toxin."
"But you lack an antidote in the event that they should somehow be exposed to the poison once again. If he got onto your ships once, he could do it again. So what are you planning on doing? Flying around space for the rest of your existence fully-armored, just in case? Besides, he could have more weapons on Earth and you weren't ready for his last," The Doctor argued.
"The Sontarans do not fear death, Doctor! It is our honor to die in battle!" the councilman shouted. "We do not need your help eliminating our adversaries."
"But this one's cunning, councilman. I mean, don't get me wrong, you set a good trap and all—worked like a charm on us, obviously—but this one saw it coming. He's been two steps ahead of you the whole way and if you keep charging proudly to your deaths you risk losing everything. Think about it: one man took out an entire ship. What could an army of leaf-things do, then? Hmmm? You don't even know how many you're running up against this time. And it's not just this one man, or him and his people. You're talking about invading Earth. And while I have no doubt that your military prowess outmatches the humans, you know as well as I do that they have nuclear arms. You'd be playing a dangerous game for both races as a whole by storming in with your guns blazing," The Doctor's mind still raced with the guilt his earlier memories had wrought, but there was so much more at risk now, he feared. A Sontaran invasion of Earth was not going to end well for either side. He just hoped he could make them understand.
The councilman considered The Doctor's words carefully, "Your argument is reasonable, Doctor. It would be erroneous for us to engage in open combat with the leaf-things if indeed there are more on Earth at present. That said, the humans are of little consequence to us. There is no reason for us not to consider simply eliminating the Earth outright." He paused. "However, the Earth's destruction has been discussed by the Council previously and the majority are in favor of securing the planet's resources for our own use. While humanity is of little concern to us, the spoils of their planet would benefit the Sontaran race greatly."
"Well that's sure reassuring," Susan muttered, The Doctor signaling her to keep silent.
"The Grand Strategic Council must reconvene on this matter, immediately. Your input will be considered, Doctor, but this is by no means an acquittal of your crimes. We will meet and discuss the best course of action in light of these present complications. Guards, return the prisoner's to their holding cell. And do not leave their door unattended," Stalwart ordered, turning to walk back to the Council's chambers.
The Doctor erupted, "There's no time for this, councilman! If we are gone too long the leaf-thing will certainly figure out something is amiss! He probably already..."
"This is my decision, Doctor," Stalwart interrupted. "Now you can either return quietly to your cell and await the Council's verdict or we can simply proceed with our original intentions for both you and your companion and let Earth's fate fall where it will."
The Doctor, presently defeated on this matter, relented, "Fine. But make it quick," he scowled, turning to be lead back to their prison cell. The court adjourned and the spectators returned to their posts as The Doctor and Susan were dragged by their restraints back down the blue-metal hallways they had already traveled once.
They soon found themselves sitting on the floor of their cell, the room barren of anything save the travelers, the control console and the TARDIS which was still recovering from the hard landing in the cell and the temporal displacement shield which had held them in a time lock previously. "So. What now?" Susan asked The Doctor, struggling against the restraints still locked around her wrists and ankles.
The Doctor sat looking at the floor between his feet, "Now we wait, unfortunately," he said solemnly.
"But can't you use that little screwdriver thing to break us out of these handcuffs?" she pleaded.
"It's no use," he replied in a desperate tone. "Their deadlock restraints. The sonic's no good against them."
"Well what about that thing?" she said indicating the TARDIS. "Can't we just time-fly out of here, or whatever?"
The Doctor let out a frustrated sigh, "It's still repairing from our crash-landing earlier. I'd imagine the temporal shield that surrounded this place earlier is still active also, since they know I'd here. The TARDIS should be fully repaired in a few minutes, but it won't matter. Even when it's ready, we're still time-locked and trapped in an impregnable Sontaran prison cell. And even if those weren't the very real and difficult problems that they are, the Sontarans have regained control of the toxin and without it we have premise for meeting with the leaf-thing back in Illinois."
"Yeah, about that," Susan started, "what is this 'leaf-thing' you two kept going on about back there? Is that some sorta codename or something?"
The Doctor laughed, "Oh, you wouldn't believe me if I told you." He slid further down against the wall, slouching over, arms on his knees, his head resting on his forearms. He was quiet for a very long time.
Although she had not known him long, from what she did know, Susan suspected his silence to be out of character. "Are you alright?" she asked scooting closer to his side.
The Doctor sniffed and used his shackled wrists to rub faint tears from his eyes, "Yes. Yes, I'm fine," he answered unconvincingly.
"What the councilman said in there—about people sacrificing their life for you and you wiping out whole civilizations and everything—is that true?" she asked already knowing the answer to her question.
The Doctor searched for the words to form an explanation, but found only one response suitable. "Yes," he answered, his eyes could not bear witness her reaction and remained focused on the floor beneath them.
Susan did not shutter; she had not expected any other response. "Well..." she started, uncertain where she would end, "I'm sure you had your reasons."
The Doctor breathed heavily, remorse tight against his chest. "Yes, I had reasons," he replied through quivering lips. "I had many reasons. A myriad justifications. I have responses ready to go at a moment's notice for everyone about everything. But not a single one of them is worth a life. Every killer has his reasons. Most are just far better than I at accepting them themselves."
Susan leaned against The Doctor, resting her head on the shoulder of his tweed jacket. "I know how much it hurts you. True, I don't know what it feels like, but I can see it in your face. I know I barely know you at all. This morning you were just some idiot with a blue box and a light-up screwdriver making me late for my meeting. But back there on that stage you went to bat for me. You don't know me from Eve, and I don't know you from Adam, but still, here we are and as best I can tell we don't have anybody fighting for us except each other. I asked you earlier today why I should trust you, but that was more like me asking myself why I already did. There's something about you. You're...unfamiliar. Different. I mean, you know, besides all the time travel and space ship stuff. You have this sense about you that makes me know I can trust you. And not just because you took up for me in there or looked over my past earlier."
"Why, then?" The Doctor asked finally turning his head, looking desperately in Susan's eyes.
Susan shook her head and smiled, quietly chuckling, "I have absolutely no idea."
The Doctor smiled back, yet obviously insincere, "Well, then. That's somehow fitting, I suppose." He appreciated Susan's sentiment and that she cared enough to say anything at all, but her effort seemed dim in the shadow of his regrets.
Susan straightened up, sitting back against the wall once more. "I know it's not enough, Doctor. I didn't figure it would be. I'm not very good at this," she admitted.
"Good at what?" The Doctor asked afraid he had offended her.
"Hope," she answered succinctly.
The Doctor started to respond, but his thought fell short of any word. He looked at her, wishing there was something he could say. She looked at him, wishing he would say anything, yet neither spoke. Their glances soon averted the others, returning to the floor, the ceiling or the wall. They sat in silence, uncertain what to say, so instead they thought. Susan of her home, The Doctor of everything but. Together they sat and listened, each silently praying for a voice to crackle to life across the intercom. Whatever the verdict, they had each separately decided, it could be no worse than this utter quietness and the cacophony of their thoughts.