I. THE WAR ROOM
The planet Gallifrey.
The Citadel Capitol.
The War Chamber.
It had long been abandoned ever since the planet was locked in a moment of time, the culmination of a devastating and seemingly eternal Time War – an easy escape for the Gallifreyans to go about their business; after all they were masters of time, but beyond that... It was a lonely, lonely universe being the only planet in existence.
Which was why this meeting was taking place.
"Welcome", a stern, coldly attractive woman - somewhat resembling the last Lady President of Gallifrey, Romanadvoratrelundar, but evidently a different woman altogether - was sitting at the head of the table within the War Council. Assembled around the piece of furniture were a handful of other Time Lords, all individually hardened by the War and their lonely predicament, "I doubt I need to inform you as to whom I am, but for record's sake I am Inquisitor Liza, the acting Lady President of Gallifrey, and, as you know, you are gathered here for a special mission –"
In the centre of the table a holographic image faded into being; despite the image's blue tint, the rather nondescript image of a middle-aged, bald man in an expensive suit appeared – on first glance just a regular guy, but there was a glint in his eyes… he was evidently a lot more important than he appeared. The image changed, fading into the equally innocent visage of an elderly, weary-looking man, and again into a blonde, stubbly man in a hoodie. "These are incarnations of the Master, real name Koschei – known criminal of our Time Lord society. A liar, a killer, a thief... He was last seen 'borrowing' a damaged Battle TARDIS and stealing an old Matrix Data Slice from the Archives – although not to his better health. Regrettably, he managed to regenerate and escape the lock placed upon us – but his genius is needed."
The image now changed, momentarily flickering from an old, mischievous-looking man in a long cloak, leaning on a cane, to a younger man with a shock of blonde curls in a lovely blue suit, and again to a different man in a tight-fitting brown suit, with short, spiky brown hair and a cheeky smirk on his face.
"As you all know, these faces are some of those of The Doctor. The man who trapped us in this state. He was our salvation, our hero… until he declined us our freedom – we were forced to deliver him a new set of regenerations, of incarnations, as only he knows how to release the planet. While this means that he may one day decide of his own free will to return and save us, it's very unlikely that we'll obtain any records of his visage from now on, as he regenerates further. Time Lords can change their appearance through the usage of their regenerative properties … while we here may only change our appearances in dire straits, the Master or the Doctor may employ this as a tactic to stay hidden from us. Either one of them could be anybody you meet in the outside Universe. Stay vigilant."
The image faded to nothing as the Inquisitor leaned forward; "You each have unique abilities highly capable for the task in hand. It is your assignment to find a way to free our lock in the same manner, track down these two Time Lords and bring them back alive for official proceedings." She leaned back now, clasping the tips of her fingertips together as she rested her head on top. "Questions?"
The Warlord listened, absent-mindedly cracking his knuckles. "What resources do we have to complete this task?"
The Time Lady once known as the Explorer, now Crusader – a woman solely dedicated to bringing order and safety to the universe one way or the other, listened to the briefing in silence, her hands together on the table. She nodded to the Warlord, then added: "I have another: Keeping in mind that the whole of Gallifrey has been unable to breach the lock and the two criminals are, well, outside, how are we supposed to reach them? As far as I am aware, we don't know how the Master did."
The Inquisitor looked curiously at the Warlord before turning her attention toward the Crusader. She pursed her lips before nodding slowly; "We may not know precisely how the Master escaped this hell, but I however know different. The outside Universe was accessed through the Untempered Schism - although we were ripped from the proper universe, the Schism still holds links; not enough to send a whole planet through, but perhaps one or two TARDISes. The reason we haven't made this public? Well, this tear in the fabric of reality truly is our last chance, and since our one and only other option has decidedly left us to rot, now is the time to do what we must. The Schism is likely to collapse after a single attempt."
She inclined her head back to the Warlord; "In regard to your resources: two Battle TARDISes have been secured for this purpose. On board is every weapon we had left - well, mostly every weapon. We do like to keep one or two things back, just in case..."
In case their eternal enemies in that wretched war, the Daleks, find a way back toGallifrey in order to finish the job, she thought to herself as she reclined her head back, hands still entwined below her chin. "However many of you go on this mission," she indicated to the other silent compatriots around the table, "You will have to make peace with each other in order to work together. Set aside your differences. Your main goal," her voice faltered momentary, "Is to make sure that the Time Lord race continues. One way or another."
The Crusader leaned slightly forward, attentive, when the Inquisitor revealed she knew how the Master had escaped the lock, and it was possible to follow his tracks. The mission suddenly didn't seem so impossible anymore.
She decided to ignore the last part. When it came to that, if it did, she would set her mind on devising a tolerable way to prolong the species. For the time being, they had two criminals to track.
"What about vortex scanners?" she asked. "Both the Master and the Doctor regenerated since the last records of them. We may waste a lot of time searching for them if we can't find fresh tracks."
The Crusader presented a good question, but one with a misunderstanding of the best course of action in tracking the current incarnation of both Time Lords they were after. "Although neither Time Lord has a TARDIS personal to themselves," the Inquisitor began, reclining now in her long and slightly pointless explanation, "They each, like all of us in this room, carry their own personal symbiotic nuclei - their personal link to the Time Vortex, to regeneration and - most importantly - to the Matrix. We may no longer know what their current faces look like, but we do know which incarnation each are on. The Doctor should be in the first incarnation of a secondary regeneration cycle, with the specific data match to the man long held in record since his initiation to the Gallifrey Academy. The Master, however..."
The holographic image projector flashed up an image of a being wrapped in dark clothes, it's face was... burnt. Damaged. Destroyed. "This was the thirteenth and last incarnation of the original Master. He claimed three different faces under circumstances but remained in the chronological regeneration number of thirteen," Liza informed them.
"Once resurrected from the bowels of the Doctor's stolen TARDIS, we implemented a new cycle of regenerations upon the Master so as to act as spy for us amongst the Daleks in the build-up to the Time War. Off course, he fled from the War and we lost track of him, but the Master who escaped earlier was in his third incarnation of his second regeneration cycle, meaning the one we are looking for is in his fourth incarnation of his second regeneration cycle - his symbiotic nuclei code will be encoded into both Battle TARDISes, set to his current incarnation so there is no... mix up in the timeline. The same has been done for the Doctor. It is presumed that the Doctor in his new face has met and knows the Master in his own current face, but only fate will tell."
She allowed this information to sink in a moment before decidedly voicing another fact they needed to know: "I will not be accompanying you on this mission - being the highest authority on Gallifrey since the High Council were... relinquished, I will be needed to keep things running as smoothly as possible; I will however be available for communication at any given time," at this point Liza reached into her pocket and pulled out several identical looking badge-like devices all holding the Seal of Rassilon, an ancient Gallifreyan symbol, "These will allow direct access to myself without protocol, and will help commune with each other should telepathic tendencies not able."
The Crusader listened to the explanations and scoffed as the Inquisitor told them the Master had fled the Time War. Of course he did.
She took her communication device before looking up at the Inquisitor again. "I have another question: The Master and the Doctor are to be brought alive to face justice, but what of aliens who might get in the way? You gave us heavily armed Battle TARDISes so I assume you expect fierce opposition."
"The Doctor was foolishly interfering before the War. In the process, yes, he gained much loyalty from the idiots that chose to side with him. And the Master, as we know, is rather apt with hypnosis and manipulation. If they knew we were coming, either could amass an army with ease," said the Warlord, grunting out each syllable with quiet aggression.
"Indeed; the Doctor has thousands of allies – plenty of races whom have benefited from his use of luck and sheer determination; they won't be so happy to see him locked away for the remainder of his long, long life," Liza nodded at the Warlord.
"And the same issue, but perhaps slightly twisted in the case of the Master. As the Warlord has so… eloquently put it," now she was addressing the table at large, "The Master can gain a lot of cult following; species threatened or coerced into submission until they do his will. While as Time Lords we used to have a non-interference policy, in this case I would suggest to remove as much opposition as possible – by any means."
Of course she meant weaponry, but she also implied the use of time displacement – removing an entire species from existence just to stop their influence in battle. This was a tactic that at one point was ferociously opposed to, but during the course of the Time War was in fact implemented into the very Battle TARDISes the group were being deployed in – used for the exact same reason the Inquisitor had now silently insisted upon, in many a conflict against the Daleks.
The Daleks who could influence the universe in ways only the Time Lords could equal, who could threaten an army to fight for their cause just because they could. The Inquisitor shuddered at the thought … what if the Daleks had survived the end of the War? What if, in the outside Universe, they had been assembling an army, dominating the surviving worlds … what if–
"Sorry for the late entry!"
The Mechanic stumbled in, looking about nervously. A young woman in stained overalls, her hair messy and sweat dripping from her brow, still somewhat attractive despite the unkempt look about her. She halted for a moment, taking in her fellow operatives. "I was working, and … and in the middle of something. I haven't missed anything, have I?"
"Not at all," murmured the Warlord, unimpressed with the new arrival. "Only the entire point of the meeting, the summary of the mission and every detail of how we are expected to achieve it."
"Well," fired back the Mechanic, "Thank you so much for wasting time having a go instead of taking the time to inform me."
"Oh, you're very welcome," the Warlord gave her a sarcastic smile, rolling his eyes at the girl. "Fine. If nobody else is going to do it – what do you know of the renegades the Doctor and the Master?"
"The Master? A crazy man, from what I've heard. And the Doctor saved our asses in the time war, I believe. Unless that's not the official way of doing things."
"He trapped us!" snapped the Crusader, "You stupid girl. This is not salvation, this is imprisonment!"
"And from what I have heard," said the Warlord, "The only imminent danger we were facing was him. The rest was... prepared for and would have been manageable. Our mission is to bring the both of them back to Gallifrey. Force them to free us and try them for their crimes."
Leaning back in her chair at the interruption, Liza kept her lips pursed as the Warlord filled in the Mechanic of what had so far been planned, the Inquisitor squinting her displeasure at the other Time Lady's high opinion of the man who has imprisoned them.
"As the Crusader has to aptly put it," Liza responded quietly, directing her full attention now to the latecomer, "The Doctor was the one who imprisoned us. Our fate would have been more simple had he enacted the Moment he stole from our very vaults, to lock our fates in the last day of the War but instead we are trapped here, concealed in this prison outside of space and time itself." She sighed to herself before producing yet another communications device and sliding it over to the Mechanic.
"I trust we all know what to do? It is the Doctor who will have to place us back into the universe – and knowing his fate if he did so, more specifically his trial, he wouldn't be so happy to release us like that!" She snapped her fingers, "So initiative and bravado are needed; get him to free Gallifrey by any means necessary. And let us not forget the Master – he needs to be brought back to trial himself, a proper trial with proper punishments. I feel his remaining regenerations will be forfeit at the very least."
"Trapped? I'm surprised someone didn't make this happen long ago, considering how little we tried to interfere before the war." The Mechanic took a seat, "Hasn't the Doctor been on trial before? Or is that just a rumour I heard the last time the High Council fell apart, before the War?" She grabbed the communication device, checking it over, nodding at the Inquisitor.
"Yes, it's not the first time the Doctor has been tried for his crimes," The Crusader answered the Mechanic's question. She turned to Liza, letting her elaborate. The Crusader's knowledge of these events was imprecise at best, but the Inquisitor was bound to have read the report of her predecessor.
The Warlord spoke, "For different crimes. Before the War, The Doctor was harmless, just bumbling about the Universe causing havoc in that stolen relic of his. A little bit different to a plethora of war crimes, isn't it?
"Oh, because the Time Lords 'never' endangered anyone in this war of ours. Especially not the High Council, with their harmless plans for universal genocide. Or the War Council, for innocently setting loose every doomsday weapon we had, most of them not even against the Daleks!" The Mechanic snapped back at the others. Their superior manner was really starting to piss her off.
The Warlord stood up, shooting an angered look at the Mechanic, "Something that I am sure will be taken to trial. However, all of those things were done with authority and proper permissions. The Doctor acted recklessly and without any permission or even so much as a casual request. And not to mention that, without us, the Daleks are sure to be outside this bubble, taking over the Universe! You know very well that interference goes against our highest laws, but we went to War because we had to!"
The Mechanic didn't respond, staying quiet. She was now almost certain that she was the only one in the room with these views, although the silent, stony-faced blonde man seated next to the Lady President hadn't betrayed what his feelings were either way.
Inquisitor Liza listened with curious ears to the debate that slowly formed around the table between the Warlord and Mechanic, the latter of whom was obviously a Doctor Sympathiser – surprisingly there were a few Time Lords like this still on Gallifrey; many whom had associated with the last President Romana, whose relationship with the Doctor was widely known, accepted and later frowned upon. It was probably one of the reasons the High Council went against Lady Romana in favour for Rassilon.
"Tell me, Mechanic, why are you here precisely? Is this a trick of the High Council to even out opinion, or maybe you overheard this meeting was taking place and you wanted to… shake things up a bit?" monotonous though her tone constantly remained, the admirable smirk wasn't unseen on her lips.
The Mechanic turned towards the Inquisitor, wondering the reason for asking. "I was hoping you could tell me, since you seem to be in charge here. I was just told to show up and not tell anyone else this was going on." With the Inquisitor's second comment, though, she figured she was right – these people weren't exactly the most sympathetic of people to the Doctor. She looked around. "Although whoever told me that doesn't seem to be here..."
"It seems a practical joke of sorts has been played on you… dear." Liza responded on the Mechanic's second remark, forcing herself to sound at least friendly in such a situation – the others were remaining tight-lipped, seeing what the outcome of this intrusion would be before they moved forward. "However, I'm sure a person of your particular… craft could be vital to the mission, even if her outlook is flawed."
She indicated the holo-projector in the centre of the table, now displaying an image of two formless cylindrical objects with armoured attachments presenting themselves. "Two Battle TARDISes for your journey. You have mechanical prowess, I assume, judging from your chosen title? Never before have we piloted a TARDIS, no matter what make or model, through the Untempered Schism– just because the Master did doesn't mean he, or his stolen TARDIS, remained completely intact. You, my dear Mechanic, would be vital in keeping both machines stabilised during the journey, at the same time, so we don't lose number, weapon or…" she glanced beyond the hologram, to the other faces present, "skill."
The Mechanic sighed internally upon learning she wasn't supposed to be here. "It's possible, I suppose. I am a decent engineer, you could say..."
"Decent will have to do." Liza snapped. Her eyes still lingered on the Mechanic, but her mind wandered elsewhere. She thought of the previous Lord President, Rassilon the Reborn, Rassilon the Resurrected. Somewhere else in the Citadel, some private clinic, he lay, mortally injured, dying from injuries inflicted upon him by the Master on the final day of the War. Liza had silently pleaded for him to die, but if he had a backup plan, another body, then he would undoubtedly take charge of Gallifrey once again, and her plans for rebuilding would be lost. The man was a tyrant.
The Crusader spoke up, "Is there a list of known deserters?" she asked. "I assume those who survived the Daleks, who weren't on Gallifrey, aren't to be prosecuted, at least not for the time being… in that case, are some of them likely to provide some support against the Doctor and the Master? And if not, are we to treat them like criminals too — or perhaps to consider they forfeited their rights as Time Lords the moment they deserted?"
Liza had to think before answering this time, aware that she herself would be sending a message through to those Time Lords free of Gallifrey once the group before her had gone, but not wanting them to know that quite so quickly. "I am sure" she started slowly, considerately, "That there were plenty of Time Lords away from Gallifrey during the final onslaught; what they have done with their lives and where their allegiance lies thus far remains to be seen – judge them by their actions as you move forward, but remember deserters and betrayers will not be tolerated."
"Understood," the Crusader acknowledged coldly. Deserters had been either forcibly sent back to the front or executed during Rassilon's time in the war; if bringing other potential deserters back for trial wasn't part of their mission, as the Inquisitor seemed to imply, then there was only one fate worthy of them if they stood in the way.
"No more questions?" asked the Lady President, glancing at the other team members around the table. The blonde man next to Liza, the Mechanic still keeping an eye on him, seemed to look up at this… but still he did not speak.
Satisfied that their meeting was over, that the Time Lords knew their tasks at hand, the Inquisitor stood; "For the purpose of travel, the Battle TARDISes have been moved into the Schism chamber – once you get used to these, we shall put you through the Untempered Schism itself as planned, but that is where we shall need you, Mechanic…"
As the Lady President moved towards the chamber's exit, the other Time Lords followed suit – first the Warlord, then the Crusader, and then the blonde man. He caught Mechanic's eye, held her gaze just for a moment … then looked away, moving quietly out the door. The Mechanic sighed, considering her options.
Her allies in this mission were, as a matter of fact, complete and utter lunatics. Untrustworthy, loyal to a fatally flawed cause, and too passionate, too violent, too … mercurial.
But … the outside Universe. The Mechanic knew that she needed to escape, that she was not likely to last much longer without getting off this planet. It truly was a tough dilemma.
She had made her choice, though.
Sighing, the Mechanic followed the blonde man out of the War Chamber. She knew, deep down, that this was a decision she was extremely likely to regret.
This fic is somewhat based upon DWRP Forum's "The New Gallifreyan Avengers" thread. Substantial credit goes to Terrance Sigma, Lord Garnetto, AkibaSilver and The Daleks' Advocate for the creation of some of the characters featured in this story.