So, here it is – the official first chapter! Some of my knowledge may be a bit off or exaggerated but I hope you can enjoy it regardless. If there is any mistakes, that is. I really need feedback to get better, so if you love or hate something then drop a comment!
""
Celeste Domitius-Spence is staring down at her homework with glassy, distant eyes. She cannot find it within herself to concentrate on her academics when she can see the stars outside her window, twinkling like a forbidden promise. She has dreamt many a time that a Time Lord would materialise in and take her off to their home planet. The fleet is not the place for someone like her; she can do so much more than attempt to understand how her kind developed time travel. She wants to put her knowledge to use; she wants to get her hands on a real TT Capsule. She wants to go to that star over there and discover what life form lives there; what life form used to live there, what life form may live there in the future. She wants to explore, not sit inside her bedroom all day, writing about why time travel is possible without gaining any experience of it.
It is a ridiculous dream. She knows that. But her father is on Gallifrey, according to her birth records, so sometimes whilst she drifts off in to the more imaginative parts of her mind she wonders what would happen if he ever came for her. He must know she exists. He has to – why else would he donate for 'the cause'? Yes, she assures herself, he knows of my existence. I bet he asks about me all the time. Any day now he will come for me; claim me from this dull fleet and take me home. And then I can go to the real Academy and get a Capsule of my own, and with that I can explore every galaxy I can find…
She exits her dazed state and begins tracing the words of her circular Gallifreyan writing. Professor Gratiana had told her that she is getting better at it, and she had been bursting with pride. Of course, she still enjoys writing in the usual human English handwriting too, but something about finally being able to write in the language of her home excites her. After she gains this knowledge and refines it they will not be able to deny her access to Gallifrey; if her father does not find her then she shall find him. She places her sonic pen in to her inner pocket and pushes herself out of her chair, deciding that a walk around the gardens is in order.
She supposes the concept of her fleet would be quite exciting to someone who has not grown up on a place like this. Two children race past her, giggling as their burgundy robes billow out behind them. She pulls her own closer, checking the pocket again to ensure her sonic is still there. She would be put in to confinement for a week if they knew she had built a sonic device, but she could not resist putting that knowledge to the test; it had cost her five weeks' worth of credits and even then she had to use the black market to buy the required pieces. It took a lot of time and effort but she managed to do it, in the end. She was incredibly proud of herself; if only she had someone to share her excitement with.
'The gardens' are not outdoors; nothing is when you live in a spaceship with built in temporal displacement. It is as close as you can get, however. This is Celeste's favourite place on the fleet due to the fact that it is a replica of Gallifrey's landscape blended with Earth's – the grass is blood red whilst the sky is the brightest shade of blue she has ever seen, the trunks of the trees are a deep brown whilst their silvery leaves sparkle in the twin suns' light. It is different every time depending on the day; sometimes it's entirely Gallifrey and sometimes Earth, sometimes the sky burns orange whilst the grass is green, sometimes there are wild flowers of all kinds of colours and sizes, and sometimes – although it is rare – she will enter to find that snow is covering the ground. But for now it is a blend of her home worlds, Earth and Gallifrey. But she would prefer it to be Gallifrey. She always prefers Gallifrey.
There are a few people in here already – clusters of friendship groups sat gossiping, families on picnics and whatnot. Celeste ignores them as she wanders over to her favourite tree, shrugs off her outer robe and places it on the grassy floor. Once she is sat down she pulls her knees in to her chest and begins idly stroking the blades of the red herb. This day is absolutely baking hot, so much so that some of the others have slipped their robes off their torso so they hang at the waist. If only I could be so bold, she thinks to herself, but unfortunately Celeste is a fifty year old with the body of a sixteen-year-old.
She pulls her ID card out of the pouch around her shoulder and takes yet another look. It has her full name stated on the front along with her citizen number, her date of birth, her age and her Gallifreyan and human status. Celeste's mother was half Gallifreyan whilst her father was – or is, rather – a pure Gallifreyan, so Celeste is lucky enough to be 24% human and 76% Gallifreyan. The experimentation she underwent upon birth stated that she has a human anatomy with the exception of two hearts; this has caused a couple of health problems from time to time (for example, once she was emitted to the emergency ward after one of her hearts stopped beating, which she was later told was the 'humanity attempting to fight the Gallifreyan genes') but her Gallifreyan genes are dominant, so with the prescription of a drug she cannot even remember the name of (never mind pronounce) her hearts should carry on as normal. She brushes her hand over the bottle they are in. That is a bad habit of hers, but without those she would most likely die so it is an unsurprising one at that.
Somewhere between staring at her ID card and listening in to a conversation a group of her classmates are having, Celeste finds herself dozing off. Another defect of her human genes is that she has to sleep a lot more often than the pure Gallifreyans, although it is only for around five hours every twenty-four hours or so. So, to stop the tiredness from dragging her in, she heaves herself off the ground, throws her outer robe over her shoulder and begins walking towards the small gathering of trees a lot of them incorrectly refer to as 'the woods'. She can spend an hour or so cataloguing the Gallifreyan wildflowers she finds there before heading off to bed…
""
The Capsule Landing Bay located on the Altarafian fleet has not been used for many, many years now. In fact it was not scheduled to be used at all, so you can imagine the surprise of the bay's attendants when the wheezing, groaning sound they have only ever heard on films from the Academy fills and echoes the room. One of them taps the screen of their communicator whilst staring at the spot that it is simply appearing in to, missing the buttons that will patch her through to security. When the Capsule solidifies they see that it is a 1920's Police Box, an item that originated on Earth rather than Gallifrey. A young male stumbles out, coughing and spluttering as plumes of black smoke follow him – there are singe marks on his green velvet jacket and his face is covered in soot.
"Hello," He chokes, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping at his face, "Sorry to barge in like that, but I ran in to some unexpected problems with the candles, and… Well, no worries, the fire's out. I wish I could say the same about the smoke, but the Old Girl will take care of that. Anyway, I'm the Doctor."
The Doctor finds it very odd that the four humanoids surrounding him are staring at him with… What is that? It reminds him of the gazes of that scary lot of teenage 'fan girls' in the 21st century.
"S-sorry," The woman shakes her head and holds out her hand, "I am Athena. My colleagues are Sandra, Alexus and Jamie."
"Pleasure to meet you," He says, shaking each of their hands in turn before turning back to Athena, "Surprised to see me, I presume?"
"Of course," She nods, "We have not had a Time Lord land here for decades."
"Wait," He backpedals, "This is a Time Lord craft?"
"Of course… Do you mean you never planned on coming here?" She asks suspiciously.
"Like I said, issues in the console room, I had a bit of a wild flight and sort of just… Landed... I pray you will forgive the intrusion—May I ask what this fleet is for?"
"It may be best if we take you up to security before answering any more of your questions. I'm sorry, Doctor, but it is our orders to take any unscheduled visitors to them first."
"Oh, very well," He sighs, "Just don't interrogate me – I do so hate interrogations."
So, Athena and Jamie lead the Doctor towards a lift and hit the 'security deck' button as Alexus alerts the security wing to the 'new arrival'. There are one hundred floors on the craft, according to this lift, and they are on floor zero. For a while the Doctor passes the time by taking note of just what is on board by reading the various labels, and when he has finished that he takes to humming some Bach to himself until finally the computerised voice announces that they have reached the security deck.
"After you," He says to Athena, who nods curtly before leading the way. The corridor is so alien-yet-familiar to him that it actually brings back a spark of longing for his home planet. Oh, how beautiful it is, even if he despises the inhabitants he cannot deny the fact that it is an aesthetically pleasing planet. This particular ship has adapted both Earthly and Gallifreyan architecture to create a blend of both planets; the walls are covered in tapestries depicting the history of how Rassilon came to nurture the Time Lords in to what they are today; this looks oddly out of place when mixed with floor tiling made of Earth materials and various works of art also taken from the planet itself.
"Interesting blending of cultures," He muses, "Would I be correct in assuming that this is some way of making peace?"
"Hello," Another voice interrupts – the Doctor turns from Athena to rest his gaze on the newcomer, he is well-built and at a medium height with a buzz-cut hairstyle and friendly eyes, "The Doctor, is it not?"
"It is indeed, and you would be…?"
"Sergeant Oragon, Sir. A pleasure to meet you," He shakes his hand, "Sorry about all of this, but we are going to have to take some information down before you can roam freely."
"It doesn't involve a trip to a hospital, does it? I hate the places – all you need to do is check my pulse to know I am a Time Lord-"
"No, nothing of the sort, we just need to check your name against the records and get you an ID Card printed, then you are free to do as you like."
"Very well," The Doctor smiles, "Then you may lead the way."
He does just that, taking the Doctor to a small office in which a lady called Henna is sat behind the desk. He types his real name in to the database before asking very nicely for her to put his preferred alias on his card – she does as he asks without argument, explaining to him that a lot of people make similar requests due to the length and complicated pronunciation of their names. When he finally has the ID card he thanks her, bids her farewell and slips it in to his pocket.
"All done, Doctor?" He nods, "Excellent, now Athena here can take you up to the civilian floors; feel free to have a look around. You will be assigned a room by an attendant upon asking for one if you are in need of rest."
"Thank you," He says with a heavy amount of sincerity. He has never met such co-operative and friendly members of his own race before; the Time Lords of Gallifrey are not usually so welcoming, though he supposes he has given them enough reason to not exactly jump up and down in anticipation of his visits…
"So, am I allowed to ask what this fleet is for now?"
"Of course – the main reason for the creation of the Altarafian fleet was to create a race combining human and Gallifreyan DNA using an advanced version of the loom technology from the home world. Beings in pure human and Gallifreyan from still exist, but three-quarters of the people on this ship are part human, part Gallifreyan."
"Is a perfect fifty-fifty combination of both even possible?" He asks, "I cannot imagine that it would be, especially using looms," He tuts, "Unreliable things."
"There is no other way," Athena sniffs, seeming insulted at the Doctor's slight snub at the Time Lord technology, "When attempting natural reproduction we were unsuccessful."
"Right…" He falls silent, staring at a scratch on one of the lift's doors as he contemplates what he has learnt. So, the Time Lords have decided that humans are not just worthless apes after all? That they could be significant in the future for their race… But how? Why? He would have expected them to have stuck their nose up at an experiment like this. And how did they get the humans to agree to this? They are in the 34th century, and he knows for a fact that the humans have despised the Time Lords since they discovered they could have prevented the Dalek invasion in the 22nd century. None of it makes any sense.
He continues to contemplate this whilst he focuses another area of his mind on the main decks, which they have finally reached. The hallways are all identical to one another and still adorn the tapestries, which he finally notices are now packed with the same ridiculous propaganda that they are fed on 'the home world.' He almost makes a comment of this aloud, but with the way Athena acted at the slightest questioning of the Time Lords ways he thinks better of it. If these people are all as mindless as his own then he must be careful. It makes sense for them to be, he reminds himself, as they have never had the opportunity to discover what really lies out there. The people on Gallifrey, however, have that opportunity but elect to ignore it.
"We are not in Kasterberous," The Doctor notes some time later – after being shown the dining halls, their version of the Academy's classrooms and the different areas of work available on the fleet.
"I beg your pardon?" Athena asks, clearly confused by the statement.
"Gallifrey, it's located in the constellation of Kasterborous. But they have decided to put you in the Cancerian constellation… Why?"
"What does it matter?" She asks, rolling her eyes, "If it had been important for us to be close to the home world then they would have put us there."
"Exactly."
"I have to return to work," She says, clearly becoming agitated with him, "Have a comfortable stay, if you need anything then the attendants will be happy to help."
"Yes, yes, thank you for your time," He murmurs absently, walking over to the window of the hallway they are stood in. He listens to Athena's footsteps grow quieter as she retreats, and when the lift has closed behind her he pulls out his sonic and begins scanning the walls…
""
Celeste hears it as she is heading back to her dormitory; the familiar buzzing sound of a sonic device. But no one living on board the fleet is allowed one of those. A thrill of excitement races through her veins as she realises – there must be a Time Lord on board. She is almost running in her haste, weaving through the corridors until the buzzing is louder and louder. When did the Time Lord arrive? Why now, after all this time? Is it her father, has he finally come for her? He could be looking for her now. I'll find you, she internally promises him as she rounds the next corner.
The man she encounters looks fairly young. If she were to place his age in human years she would say he looks about twenty-five. He has wild, coppery-brown curls of hair that stop at his somewhat square jawline. His skin is pale, and he is dressed in what she thinks is turn of the Earth's twentieth century clothing. When he turns to her she notices two things; his eyes are full of life and, in a Gothic way, he is really very handsome.
"Hello," He coughs, seemingly embarrassed to be interrupted. He shuts his screwdriver off and slips it in to his pocket, "I, ah, was just running some tests on the strength of the walls," He pats it and grins, "Yes, very strong; very good indeed."
Celeste cocks her head to the side, "Are you a Time Lord?"
"I am," He looks suspicious, "Why do you ask?"
"Well, I have always wanted to meet a Time Lord. No one from Gallifrey ever visits any more, they have not for around forty years now…" She shakes her head in embarrassment as she catches herself rambling, "Sorry, I have not introduced myself. My name is Celeste Domitius-Spence, but I prefer Celeste."
"Well, Celeste, you may call me the Doctor," He says, smiling warmly as they shake hands.
"The Doctor?" She blinks, "I have read about you."
"You have? Really, how many books do they want to put me in…?"
"We have many different books from various species in the universe on board," She explains, "And you seem to be popular – and sometimes unpopular – in many of them. Would I be able to ask you something?"
"Yes, of course."
"Why did you flee Gallifrey?" She asks, gazing at him with a look he recognises as genuine confusion, "A lot of people want to move over to Gallifrey, you see. It is such a wonderful planet; I do not understand why you became a renegade when you were fortunate enough to be born there."
"Oh, Celeste," He sighs, feeling a strong sense of pity for these poor people. The Time Lords have trapped them here to keep breeding and breeding, never allowing them to leave and never checking up on them, still feeding them the over exaggerated and edited versions of their history. Has this experiment been abandoned? Have they just left this civilisation out here to rot away? "I would explain it to you but I'm afraid you would not believe me. However, if you help me I can try."
"Help you how?" She pries.
"Well, I was not really checking the strength of the walls when you showed up. I was actually attempting to find one of the digipads, but had no luck. Usually people are stupid enough to build them in by windows – perhaps the Time Lords knew I would come here…"
"In the books I have read you are an omen of danger," She notes, "Should I be afraid of you?"
"Do you feel you should be? Or do those same books depict me as a hero, a God, a saviour across the cosmos?"
Celeste could tell him that there are too many contrasting answers to that question for her to truly know; this particular Time Lord was not one she ever considered she would meet. But now she has he does not seem unfriendly or evil; in fact, he just seems curious. His eyes bear a twinkle of excitement and his smile is a promise of adventure, and Celeste could do with a little bit of adventure in her life. This may be her only chance to get it, so going against everything she believes in she says:
"All the digipads are guarded by the attendants; it has always been that way. It is to stop unworthy personnel from ruining the coding of the ship."
"Absolute codswallop, but thank you all the same. Now, Celeste, I'm going to need you to help me here," He gives her that exciting smile again and she feels her own excitement building, "Now, seeing as you're more familiar with the design of the fleet than I am, I need you to take my sonic and hold it against the pad for ten seconds."
"I have a sonic of my own," She bites her lip after the words fall from her mouth, and he raises a brow in confusion as she reaches in to her pocket and pulls out the obviously handmade sonic pen. His eyes light up as soon as it is in his view.
"Well, well, well, may I take a look?"
"Of course," She continues as she hands it to him, "But please do not tell anyone about it. I will be put in confinement for owning that."
He tsks at her words before admiring the pen, smiling like a child who has just discovered the whereabouts of his Christmas presents.
"This is wonderful for something so basic. Really, you should be proud of yourself."
"Thank you," She blushes, "It took me a long time and a lot of credits, but it does work."
"Yes… It really is lovely, Celeste, but I'm afraid its setting won't collect the information I need. But that's quite alright, if you take mine now I will fix yours up to my screwdriver's standard later."
"Really?" She beams, "Thank you!"
She leads the way until they reach one of the attendant stations and then he goes on before her, giving her another of those smiles before he does so. She stands and waits, listening for when they leave.
"Hello? Excuse me, I was told if I came to an attendant I would be given a room."
"ID Card?" She hears the attendant ask. After a moment of silence he adds, "Right this way, sir."
The footsteps echoing against the metal walls lessen in volume until they are gone completely, and with that Celeste slips out of hiding and rushes over to the digipad. After sliding the metal cover from its place she holds the sonic screwdriver up and presses the button. She has never felt so daring in her life – this is quite exciting, she notes, disregarding the rules… Maybe that is why the Doctor fled from Gallifrey. She grins to herself once ten seconds has passed and then distances herself from the digipad, slipping the Doctor's screwdriver in to her satchel as she does… It is then that she realises that she has no idea where he is.
"Excuse me," She calls as she sees the attendant returning, "I have been told to deliver something to the visiting Time Lord. Could you tell me which room he is in?"
"This floor, room eighty-four," He says, nodding curtly as she thanks him. She wonders the hallways for a while until she finds the room, and when she does she knocks.
"Hello," He chirps, sliding the door open, "Did you manage it ok?"
"I did, may I come in?"
"Of course," He moves away from the door and she enters. She has never been in the Time Lord quarters before; they are quite wonderful in contrast with her own shabby little bedroom. But why are these rooms so nice when nobody inhabits them? Surely they should allow the people who live here to have such luxuries…? She pushes that from her mind and pulls out the screwdriver, "I hope so, anyway."
"You're questioning it, aren't you?" He asks, and she pretends to be confused, "Strange, is it not, that they give you such small rooms whilst treating themselves like royalty. Why would they be so inconsiderate?"
"I was not," She mutters indignantly, "Perhaps that is because they are our creators, it is only right that they have better rooms than us."
"Oh, Celeste," That guilty look is back, "I am so sorry," Before she can put up an argument he plucks the sonic from her fingertips, "Now, let's have a look…" It buzzes in his hand and he listens for a moment… Actually, it is quite longer than a moment. Around five minutes pass – and the buzzing is beginning to hurt Celeste's ears – before he shuts it off.
"I see… This is cold, even for them!" He says angry, "They have abandoned you, Celeste."
"What?"
"The Time Lords, they're not planning on coming back. I was checking to see if there is any tracking device or calling beacons on board. There are, but they have been shut off… But why, it still doesn't make any sense."
"A lot of things you keep saying make no sense to me. Why would they need a beacon or tracking device when they have the space/time co-ordinates of where we are? You may be incorrect, Doctor."
"No, I'm right," He replies, "I know that because this ship was built with a bomb at its core… And if they haven't been back for this long that means this experiment of theirs has been written off as a failure."
"What are you…? What do you mean? Please explain this properly," He places his hands on her shoulders and meets her eyes.
"Celeste, this means that the Time Lords are done with you. They were done with you around forty years ago, and now it's just a matter of time before they blow your fleet up."
"But they wouldn't," She shakes her head, "They wouldn't do that to us, if they were planning on doing that then they would have done it straight away."
"Not necessarily. They may have left you for a while, watching you from a distance, but experiments like this were banned by the CIA centuries ago… I can't detect any form of communication with Gallifrey. If I'm right then that means the CIA know about you and they're going to come and find you, but the Time Lords can't let that happen – countless members of the High Council would be imprisoned for such a crime."
"But they would not do this," She just manages to whisper the words as tears fill her eyes, "Please, Doctor, stop this. You are scaring me. I know you dislike the Time Lords but they would never do that to us. They gave us life, they provided us with education akin to their own, and they created us for a reason!"
"I'm really, truly sorry, but they haven't. They created you simply because they could, they decided to mix your DNA simply out of curiosity, and if they had found something they liked then they would have taken you all to Gallifrey after you were loomed. But they kept you here and continued the indoctrination so you wouldn't try to escape… Everyone on board this ship is a prisoner, and I don't believe you haven't ever considered that; an intelligent girl like you."
"I just… I…" Tears begin to blur her vision. She has never had to handle something as horrible as this before; for fifty years she has lived on this ship, and she would be lying if she told him that she had not been looking out at the stars just this morning feeling like she was – is – trapped on the fleet. But the fleet is her home, and the Time Lords chose this for a reason… A valid reason… They had to, they just had to, and she cannot accept what the Doctor is saying. But the voice of reason in the back of her mind is telling her that it all makes sense; that all of the puzzle pieces have slotted in to place. That he is right.
"Celeste," She hears him say, vaguely noting he has taken her face in his hands, "If you want these people to survive then I need you to help me. I know this is a lot to take in, but if we don't act now then this entire fleet is going to burn."
"They will not listen to you, Doctor," She murmurs dazedly before shaking her head and snatching it from his hands, "Even I cannot wrap my head around such a concept!"
"But you must," He pleads, "Please, I don't want to watch you all die. The Time Lords are not who you think they are and I can prove it, just give me the chance… Don't die in ignorance, and don't ever die for beliefs implanted by a race that abandons you."
"You are a part of that race," She reminds him.
"Yes, and that's exactly why I fled."
She stares up at him, looking for any tell-tale signs that perhaps this is all one big joke. But all she can see is the grief and the fear – so raw and true that it makes her wonder if he really had no idea about them, because how could somebody care so much about a society of people that he had only just met? He hates the Time Lords, so it cannot be because of that…
"Please."
"Alright," She nods, "The best thing do to is to get in to the media wing, once we get there you can use your sonic device to hack every screen on the fleet. You better be good with words, Doctor, because it will not take long for the security guards to catch us. If this does not work we will be forced to leave."
"Yet it's a risk you're willing to take," He notes rather fondly.
"If it means saving everyone then yes… Though I am still not one-hundred percent sure you can know for certain."
"Oh, I never do, but I am right about seventy percent of the time."
"I am going to lead you to the media wing before you talk me out of it," She tuts before pushing her way out of his room. A new wave of adrenaline is rushing through her veins, and she wants it to last as long as possible. Anything to keep her mind off that sick feeling building in the pit of her stomach – the dread that the Doctor may really be speaking the truth; that the Time Lords never cared for them, never planned to take them to Gallifrey…
They take the stairs. The media wing is only a few floors below them. Such easy access is permitted because most of the media is run by the civilians. The Doctor mutters something about that being due to reproducing the propaganda, but she elects to ignore it. When they reach the floor he uses his sonic on the digipad and the door slides open. Celeste has never been in the media wing before – this particular room must be where the news articles are wrote, for there are dozens upon dozens of desks laid out with computer pads attached to them. The room is very grandeur. It vaguely reminds Celeste of the photograph of the Roman temple she once caught a glimpse of in the library, combined with the very human-esque quality of the Academy's classrooms. It is a very odd mix; very familiar but unfamiliar, more so to the Doctor than it is to her.
"Right," he says as he forces the filming studio's door open, "How long do we have to do this?"
"I would estimate around ten minutes," She replies, catching her gaze on the camera left in place from earlier on, "I took a class in camera work twenty years ago. It made me decide against working in the media, but I still remember how to use it."
"Excellent! You get that switched on and I will seal the doors, hopefully that will give us a little bit of extra time."
The pacing of all of this is very fast, Celeste thinks to herself as she rushes over to the camera and switches it on. For the past fifty years she has done the same thing every day, then suddenly she gets her wish – a Time Lord appears – and her whole world and every belief she has ever had is completely thrown off-kilter. She is not sure this is what she would have bargained for, well, if she had bargained with a superior force for this. She has never been scared before. Really scared. And usually when she is it is just a bad dream, she always wakes up… But this is not something she can wake up from. This threat and fear is real, if the Doctor is right. She does not want to believe him, but would she be helping him right now if she did not?
"Ready," She nods, "You just need to intercept the signal. The televisions are on the same loop at this time of night."
"Very good," He pulls out his screwdriver, presses it to the rather complicated-looking electronic box in the corner of the room and then comes back to the camera, "Is it working?"
"We have to hope!" She says; at that point a tolling resounds through the fleet – it sounds horribly familiar to the cloister bell of his TARDIS, "Yes, definitely working!"
"Right!" He looks to the camera, "Everyone on board this fleet needs to listen to me, and they have to do so very carefully. We may not have much time…"
""
"This is not possible!" A wire-y man cries as he attempts to override whatever the Time Lord has done to the media wing's controls, "How has he managed something like this?"
"-Lords that you have treated as deities all your lives are going to blow this fleet up, and I need to get everybody off here. A few of you may know of me, my name is the Doctor, and I am here to help. My name is known throughout the cosmos; I am the Oncoming Storm, the Bringer of Darkness-"
"Doctor, now is not the time for boasting!" Another voice hisses from the television, and Oragon stops as he recognises it as Miss Domitius-Spence's.
"I know that girl," He growls, "I should have known she would be behind this. A lot of the prisoners have spoken of her purchasing odd materials; it should come as no surprise that she would help a renegade to attempt something like this!"
"Why did you let him on board, Sir?" Athena asks from her station, "If you knew of his reputation."
"I thought we could learn something from him; perhaps send whatever information he gave us to the Time Lords. But all I hear him spewing is lies!" As Oragon shouts the final word he brings his fist down against the desk, eyes landing on the screen once more as he glares in envy and fury at the Doctor. What a stupid man, running from Gallifrey. And now here he is attempting to tell them that their Lords do not care for them? "He wants an army, of course! Is it not obvious? He wants us to turn against our home world; he wants to take it for himself!"
"Sir, if I may, are you sure about that? From what I have seen on his records he has saved many people; he has even saved Gallifrey on a handful of occasions-"
"Of course he did, he would not want it destroyed when he wants it for himself!"
"But he has already been president, why would he need an army?"
"Because they will have seen him for what he really is. Come along, we are putting an end to this."
""
"—If any of you believe me, or at the very least if you don't want me dead after hearing all of that, then please come down to the media wing and I will protect you. But I would much rather you all believe me for I really don't want to watch you die due to ignorance."
"The override has been… Override-ed?" She feels stupid the second she has said it and immediately shakes her head, "They have managed to stop the broadcast."
"Do you think it was enough?"
"I am not so sure. A lot of the people on board are much, much older than myself. Perhaps some of the younger civilians will listen, but I doubt the people in command will-" She cuts off, gasping as she hears the scraping of the main doors being forced open, "Doctor, they are coming for us!"
"Oh no," He looks so sad that she has to look away, "Oh no, no, no, no, no! They didn't listen! Why do they never listen?" The security manage to smash through the door and begin surrounding them, but Celeste feels so ill with fear that she cannot make out what is being said. She sees the Doctor arguing with the sergeant, but then they are herded in to the lift and they are going down but the Doctor is still shouting, furiously attempting to get through to them. But he may as well be talking to a brick wall, he realises, as they are not listening.
"I'm going to get them for this," The Doctor hisses, "Do you hear me? Are you listening, almighty Time Lords? I will tell the CIA about all of this – you will not get away with this!"
They are pushed in to the TT Capsule, and as soon as they are inside a wheezing, groaning sound fills the room as the plinth in the centre begins pumping energy in to the core. It is putting them in orbit. The Doctor runs to the console, screaming at her to stop – to do something, to save them before it's too late. Suddenly static resounds throughout the room, and for the first time Celeste comes to her senses just a little bit. Enough to notice that there is a Time Lord – a true Time Lord from Gallifrey itself – on the ancient television screen hanging above the Doctor's head.
"Doctor," The voice rings out.
"Straxus," He says, voice quivering with rage, "I was right, wasn't I?"
"We have no other choice, if the CIA get hold of these people then they will bring upon them something much worse than death… It is a gift."
"Death is never a gift! You… You did this to them, you locked them up on that fleet, and now they are going to die – a whole race of wonderful, interesting beings brainwashed by you. They think the universe of you and you're going to burn them!"
"Your words are hypocritical, Doctor. You speak as though you have not committed genocide yourself – do you truly believe you have any right to judge us when we are no different?"
"I WILL NEVER BE THE SAME AS YOU!" He roars, "NEVER, EVER TELL ME WE ARE THE SAME!"
"We have put your TARDIS in orbit, you are far away enough to avoid the explosion. Leave now and you will not have to witness it."
"Oh, are you saving me the trouble? How thoughtful of you; why don't you save it for those innocent beings you're about to murder?"
"Goodbye, Doctor," Straxus finishes, ignoring his bitter jibes. The static sound fills the console room again, and when it is gone the screen reverts to showing them the outside area, in the distance Celeste can see the fleet. Her home, the home that the Time Lords are really about to destroy.
"You were right," She chokes, dragging herself to her feet; The Doctor's eyes are full of sorrow as he stares at her for a moment, and then he is flicking levers and pushing buttons, and she knows the theory of that sequence well enough to know that he is getting them out. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" She shrieks, rushing to him and scrabbling at his hands, attempting to stop him, "YOU CANNOT JUST LEAVE, YOU HAVE TO SAVE THEM – THAT IS MY HOME, THEY ARE MY PEOPLE! YOU CANNOT JUST LET THEM DIE, YOU ARE NO BETTER THAN THEM IF YOU DO THIS!"
"There is nothing I can do," He wails, "Please, Celeste, I am so, so sorry, but if we near the fleet now we will be caught up in the blast."
"NO!" She continues, her throat becomes hoarse and tears are blurring her vision but she cannot bring it within herself to care. She feels sick, she feels scared, she wants her bed and her books – she wants the familiarity of the fleet and the Academy and the library, her library. She wants the red grass beneath her feet and the blue skies above her head, she wants the tinkling laugh of the children playing games and Professor Gratiana's warm smile, "I CAN'T LET THEM DIE, I CAN'T, I HAVE TO GO BACK! THEY ARE MY PEOPLE, MY HOME! PLEASE, SAVE THEM! SOME OF THEM MAY HAVE LISTENED, SOME OF THEM MAY BE WAITING FOR US AND WE ARE JUST GOING TO LEAVE THEM?"
The loud wheezing, groaning sound fills the console room again, but the Doctor was too late. As they begin to dematerialise Celeste catches sight of it on the screen; the force of it rattles the Capsule so fiercely they are both knocked to the ground, and the sound of it is so heavy that her ears pop. She looks up at her home as they enter the Time Vortex, screaming as she watches it burn.