Warnings: Dark!Fic, Character Study, Mild Horror
A/N: Written for who_contest's Prompt: Vast. I was completely unsure on what to write for this prompt. I played with ideas about microcosms and macrocosms and various themes therein. So when this idea came to me out of the blue, I had to jump on it, even as it was a daft and ludicrious idea for this prompt. I was aiming for clever, but not really sure if I hit my mark or not, so I'll just settle for readable and/or vaguely enjoyable and I will be content. As always, this fic is mostly unbeta'd and written in one go, so please forgive any mistakes and/or blatant vagueness. And (as per usual), I apologize for any repetition, misspellings, sentence fails, grammatical oh-noes and general horridness. Unbeta'd fic is overly-thinky/dark/blithery and unbeta'd. (Prequel to 'I See, I See').
A/N 2: Belated Birthday Gift for my dearest, Azzie, Fic-Wife, Confidant and Friend. Happy Birthday, darling! I do hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer(s): I do not own the scrumptious Doctor or his lovely companions. That honor goes to the BBC and (for now) the fantastic S. Moffat. The only thing that belongs to me is this fiction - and I am making no profit. Only playing about!
The room was deathly hot. Actually, it had been for quite a while; but if you looked at the man within the room, he didn't seem affected by it in the slightest. Nor had he been overly ruffled by the cold that had permeated the room previously. He seemed indifferent to either lack of light or extreme light. He had made no comment at all on the absence of water or other refreshment and his statements when questioned were bland, vague or just unhelpful. He didn't seem deceitful (intentionally or otherwise), but the very fact that he was a liar was indisputable. The man stood out like a sore thumb. His very clothes cast him as an outsider – and every other bit of information they gathered seemed to only back it up.
He claimed to be a traveler – and while his clothes were unsuitable for long journeys, he seemed to be telling the truth in that respect. He also claimed he knew nothing of the war and oddly enough, that also seemed to be the truth.
But when they got to his name…
"Are you sure Dewynter encountered no one on the way back to base – spoke with no one before they entered?"
"Quite sure, Sir," the Inquisitor said blandly. "Both Dewynter and the stranger were questioned on this. V.A.S.T. detects no anomalies in their accounts. But that wasn't the reason I called you, Commendante – "
"Yes, I am quite aware why you called me, Inquisitor Tren, your report was very thorough. I will be taking over from here. You are dismissed."
"Commendante." A text-book salute, door swung open to allow him to pass through, his own salute merely a wave as he took in the stranger seated so calmly before him.
"Ahh, I was wondering when you would arrive." The man (the Doctor, as he called himself), looked at him with eyes that seemed far too old for his face, though his smile was benign and welcoming. "Seems I should wonder no more."
That smile would be the first thing corrected as far as Commendante Sias Rychtell was concerned. The man was a liar and likely a traitor. It was high time he was informed of what happened to people who chose to be either during this era of war. Consequences were harsh in the current clime – and if this report was accurate (and he was certain it was) – this stranger was in for a sentence that the Commendante would more than happily administer. Being a traitor and a liar was bad enough.
Being a Psy was even worse.
The V.A.S.T. hummed to itself, detectors registering the stranger's every falsehood, even as he said nothing at all.
"I am Commendante Rychtell, Appointed Commander of this Base. And this," with a wave to the machine that was now silently unfolding itself from the wall it was anchored to. "Is the Visceral Aural Sensitivity Template…better known as Soothsayer."
War was hell; Soothsayer the answer.
The stranger's hell was only just beginning.