THE DOCTOR'S STORY - chapter 1
One of the most inspiring and beautiful things I've ever seen on TV is the episode of Doctor Who when he describes Gallifrey. The music gave it such a sense of sorrow, of a truly ancient race left in ashes. I recorded the episode and watched those two minutes of footage over and over and over again. For me that was such a classic moment in the series, I thought I had to write about it. So I did. Here goes...
In an abandoned warehouse somewhere in London, three companions sat shivering, huddled around a small fire that offered little comfort in the cold and darkness of the winter night. They had made makeshift chairs and a table out of the leftover crates and barrels. Many of the windows were smashed, and papers littered the floor, along with used syringes and spilt chemicals. They gathered warmth from the fries one had bought from the local chippy, and each was silent in their thoughts.
Eventually, one said to another,
"But all the legends of Gallifrey, they made it sound so perfect." The old one leaned back in his chair, considering how to reply.
"Well, perfect to look at maybe. And it was. It was beautiful. They used to call it the shining world of the seven systems." A look of deep and ancient sorrow filled his eyes, as he forced the memories forth from his many times broken hearts. "On the continent of wild endeavour, in the mountains of solace and solitude, there stood the citadel of the time-lords, the oldest and most mighty race in the universe. Looking down on the galaxies below, sworn never to interfere, only to watch." His eyes swelled with tears, as, unbidden, images of his home, encased in the shield-dome, leapt forth into his mind. After a moment of silence, he murmured,
"I never told you the story, did I?"
His friends cast glances at each other, morbid curiosity filling their minds. "No," One said, and the Doctor smiled sadly. "I thought not." He sounded old, so very old, and the other two immediately felt ashamed for their lack of tact.
"It's OK," the captain said, giving him a reassuring pat on the back. He seemed to struggle for words, only to be saved by the woman.
"Come on, it's late," she said briskly, "Let's go to bed." She moved to put out the fire, but the Time-Lord whispered,
"Stop, you must hear this, as it may be my last chance to tell it. I would not have my people's legacy forgotten." With reluctance, his friends sat, and they waited in anticipation for him to speak. He gathered his thoughts for what seemed like an eternity, before finally beginning...
Vrax whistled as he strolled through the slums to his home. He had come from a successful deal with a merchant, buying tools for his mother to work with. She was an engineer, working for the local mech, who fixed all sorts of things for the aristocrats and nobles of the upper city. Most of the items he worked on were of the illegal sort, the kind of thing the law didn't approve of, even on this poverty-ridden and unjust planet.
His father, Beirus, spent his hours in the steam bars, in a blissful daze as his skin glowed with chemicals. His mother hated him for it, and more than once she had thrown him out, only to watch as he stumbled into the nearest hovel. Once he had tried to take Vrax with him, to 'give him a sense of the thrill,' but Nearim had forbidden it. Vrax didn't want to go anyway.
He finally reached his home, a small ramshackle place, with only three rooms. Most of the dwellings here had been built from whatever was to hand, and the only thing between their home and the street was a thick dusty curtain. Theft didn't often occur though, and everyone worked together in order to survive.
"Mum, I'm back," he shouted, and she came around the corner, all greasy and dirty. She was excited, he could see that much. He hurried over to her, concerned.
"Mum, what's wrong?"
"Have you not heard? Our fleets are above the wretched world of Tarrim IV, and are engaged in the final process of our glorious victory! We will be free from their pestilence once and for all!"
She spoke with such vengeance and glee, the sparkle in her eyes so bloodthirsty. Most Deridians supported the war against the Tarrim, but by contrast the majority of the youth opposed it. That was until their first Tarrim raid, when they lost their parents or their brothers. Until they saw their first Deridian cruiser go down in fire and anguish. Their thoughts of peace were quickly turned to those of hatred and revenge.
Far away, in a unknown region of space, five stars were shooting towards each other. All of them were huge, nearing the end of their life. They had wreaked destruction wherever they went on their eternal journey, and Koschei had studied them all those long years, often passing through the systems they had destroyed, leaving only ash in their wake. In the next few weeks they would collide, and he was in the final process of analysing the simulations for possible effects. Only one thing was certain, that the consequences would be enormous for everything in that galaxy. He smiled to himself. He loved to watch worlds die, through the many centuries since he had been exiled from Gallifrey. The words of his master came back to him,
"We are sworn only to watch, never to interfere." He snorted softly, look how you turned out
He had killed his mentor and three others, stealing a ship and destroying the dock. He had made his way here, to the only outpost the ship had logged. It was defenceless when he got here, and he quickly asserted himself as ruler of the asteroid. And there he had stayed, slowly going mad over the centuries, his brilliant mind plotting terrible things, terrible evils, to exact upon those who had exiled him. He was the architect of the stars' course, one of the most devious and devilish things he had done. But not even he could have determined the consequences...
In the skies above Tarrim IV, a great battle was playing out, between two ancient foes. Neither were in any shape to continue the conflict, but with each life lost, the hatred increased. This was the fourth major conflict in the last decade, and both planets were in a constant state of political upheaval, no party lasting more than a few months. Ferrix Badgel was the current ruler of Tarrim, newly elected a month ago. The war had been going weeks before he had got into power, and it had taken weeks to call the armies back in. He intended to change things for his people. When he looked out of the window of his office, he saw a world dominated by war. There were few buildings left standing after the last raid, and he was currently based in an old factory. The Deridians had followed their fleets home, and this battle was the result. He sighed as a ruined fighter came streaming down to smash among the charred city.
Turning, he spoke to one of his guards, "Patch me through to their commander."
The man nodded. "Yes sir." He talked into a communicator, and after a few minutes, he said,
"The line is open, sir."
"Commander of the Deridian fleet, I wish to negotiate a temporal truce between our great worlds. This battle is an unnecessary loss of life and resources. I'm sure you, like myself, only want the best for your people."
"I would agree with you sir, that this is a low endeavour indeed. If it were not for my superiors, I would have ended this war long ago. Lions led by donkeys, sir, that's what we are."
Ferrix could hardly believe his ears. "I'm sorry, are you a Deridian that isn't bloodthirsty and murderess?"
Laughter came through the link. "I'll prove it," he said, and cut the line. Ferrix stood motionless, stunned by their exchange. He had had far worse expectations for a Deridian Commander. He sat for several minutes, until one of his guards spoke. "Sir, I'm getting confused reports of the Deridians ceasing their assault. Shall I give the order to counter-attack?"
"No! Order your men to stand down. Do not fire on their fleet. I'm going up there." The guard watched him with a perplexed expression.
"Sir?" he said uncertainly.
"You heard me!" Ferrix snapped, donning his official garb.
"Yes sir!" The unfortunate guard radioed the commands to the fleet.
When Ferrix reached the landing pad, a ship was waiting for him, with a battalion of troops and several anxious generals all clamouring to convince him not to go. He dismissed them and the soldiers, and made his way to his own private ship. As he climbed into the cockpit, his leading commander pleaded with him to stay, but his mind was made up. He closed the canopy and fired up the engines, shooting off into the smoky sky.
All planets look beautiful from space. It was the mystery, the many wonders contained within the protective bubble of the atmosphere. From space, any planet could be anything, from ancient and wondrous civilisation to the mere beginnings of life.
A battered ship approached Gallifrey, streaming through the rich atmosphere and on towards the citadel. The occupant relaxed a little as he saw the great shield-dome, glittering in the mid-afternoon sun. It was good to be home, after these long months in the military. His family would be waiting, his wife, his young girl and older, rebellious teenager.
Theta Sigma was the ranking military officer on his ship; a small vessel, barely able to achieve light-speed. His job was to patrol the perimeter of the Gallifrein territory. It was a lonely and tiresome task, as the time-lords were the stuff of legend among the millions of inhabited worlds in the universe, and many didn't believe they even existed, let alone have the resources and incentive to go searching for them. The border was a silent place, undisturbed even by asteroids.
He dialled the dock, and the reply crackled through the rusty comm.
"DX121, this is Dock 3. Proceed along course 0.47 into bay 16."
"Thank you," Theta replied, and programmed in the coordinates. His ship immediately angled towards a remote part of the city, and he felt a slight bump as the Shield allowed him through. His ship settled in the hanger, and he started to shut down the systems. The controller came through again.
"Do not attempt to exit your craft. Decontamination will commence shortly." Oh great. The decontamination process often took several hours to complete, before frustrated pilot was allowed to get off his craft. Theta groaned with impatience as several men in environment suits came striding out, numerous instruments and chemicals strapped to them. He sat back and relaxed, waiting for the signal to leave.
Deep in space, the gas giants careered closer to each other...