The Call to War
Chapter 1: The End of Time
"ONE!"
Energy arced like lightning from the Master's outstretched hand, staggering Rassilon yet again as the portal collapsed. The mansion's hall shook violently as Gallifrey ceased to exist, ripped back into the Time Lock with all its Lords and Ladies.
"TWO!"
The Master's image flickered, his bioplasmic field failing under the strain of such a massive discharge of unstable energy. A grinning skull replaced his face for an instant as the Master threw bolt after bolt at his torturer.
"THREE!"
Rasillon was on his knees now, insensate and nerveless in primal fear as he was sent back. Back to his race's doom, and back to his own, final death.
"FOUR!"
The Master threw a final bolt, his humanoid image almost disappearing entirely as he staggered, being consumed by the light of the blinding white portal as it closed, slamming the walls of reality shut, with him, his planet, and his people on the other side.
No light.
No dark.
No up.
No down.
No life.
No time.
Without end.
Could be worse. The Master thought to himself.
Thoughts were all he had now, all he was now. None of his senses, even his most basic five, were picking up anything at all. His eyes couldn't even detect the absence of light due to there being no darkness. His ears couldn't even detect the absence of any sound due to there being no silence. He couldn't even taste the inside of his mouth, couldn't even be sure he had a tongue anymore. Without any feeling at all The Master drifted; a wisp of thought in The Void.
Better this than the Time War again. Better to have tranquil, endless, oblivion…
Not being close enough to Rassilon and the others to be pulled back all the way into the Time Lock was probably the closest thing to mercy he could expect from the Multiverse from which he had taken so much.
Silence for an age.
Violently jerked back to what passed for consciousness, the Master marshalled his thoughts into order. Something had changed. Before he could take the time to analyse what it might be, it happened again.
A thought, parsed into words, like his own internal monologue. But this did not originate from the Master's mind.
Herr? Hallo? Sind Sie in Ordnung?
The language the thought was 'voiced' in was of Human origin, from Earth. New High German if he guessed correctly. Mentally switching to the language, he responded with a directed surface thought.
Well, I'm in The Void. Apart from that, things are just peachy. Who or what are you supposed to be?
Ohhhh, you can speak German?
The tone that the intruding thought-communications carried reminded the Master of a child: Playful, light-hearted, and curious.
Yes. And five billion other languages. Now what is all this? How are you in my head? How are you here?
All that can wait! You're interesting, you're new, and you can talk! So let's just hope it's not true what they say about curiosity and cats…
The Master quirked a mental eyebrow.
Cats?
Hold on tight, Void-Man! I've never tried this before!
Another violent shock, this time from actual, physical, contact. Impossible. Nothing physical can exist in The Void!
The renegade Time Lord barely had time to process the feeling of a small, humanoid, gloved hand grasping his own before his mind and body were suddenly overwhelmed by searing pain.
The Doctor replaced the grate over the storage compartment, slamming his hand down on the section of floor good-naturedly.
"There we go, all packed away."
The Time Lord leapt to his feet, feeling younger than he had in centuries.
A simple run outside to the TARDIS had solved the puzzle. If a spacesuit from the 42nd century could withstand the fusion fires of Torajii up close, then it could handle a few hundred thousand rads from a Nuclear Bolt Reactor. Just a quick trip forward in time had been enough to find a replacement helmet. From Wilf's perspective, he had been out of the room for only thirty seconds. The suit held up, four knocks or no four knocks. The Doctor had said his goodbyes to Wilfred and Sylvia and was now back the TARDIS where he belonged.
Bathed, shaved, changed, and refreshed, he reached for a console control. His fingers barely brushed it before he froze. Bringing his hand sharply down onto the console's edge, he gripped it hard, his knuckles turning white. The Doctor grimaced as the events of the last few days came back to him like an avalanche of memory. All the pain, all the horror of The War, dredged up again. To be strung along by prophecies and myths, dooms and portents. To know he was going to die, only to gain a last-minute reprieve. To have to slaughter his entire race a second time, only to have it come to this!
He could smell it again.
He could smell him again.
The Master was still alive.
Dok eyed the 'offering' with distaste, taking in the sight before him. Warrant Officer Schrodinger stood before him at rigid attention, yet still managing to beam brightly up at his towering creator. The man in the labcoat and the boy in the Hitler Youth uniform were on the Graf Zeppelin's bridge, standing over what was clearly a mangled corpse.
"First of all, Warrant Officer, why aren't you at your post?"
"I am."
Schrodinger raised his eyebrows innocently while inwardly rolling his eyes at the sour-faced man standing in front of him. Yes, technically he was supposed to be at the Opera House with the Colonel and the other humans while the Major, the Captain, and Dok went to South America. But, for someone who was everywhere and nowhere, what was the point in even assigning him a post?
"Hm. Maybe you are, but you should not divide your attention in future."
"Jawohl!" Schrodinger lifted his arm in an exaggerated salute.
Dok's frown only deepened as he tilted his head down, regarding the sad piece of meat before him with multi-lensed spectacles.
"And what… is this supposed to be?"
"I found it, Dok. And you'll never guess where! I-"
"And once again I am forced to admit the folly of engineering a spy with the characteristics of a cat. Originally it started as a private joke but it has now officially gone too far. You cannot simply bring dead things in with you to impress us, especially ones that you have just 'found' who-knows-where."
"No, Dok! You're not listening, I found him-"
"I don't care where you found him! He's disgusting, all charred and torn up like that, and he's gotten blood on the deck of the Major's nice, clean, zeppelin. Throw it overboard at once, and then I want you back here with a mop and bucket!"
"DOK! I found him in the Vakuum-Zustand, the Zwischen-Platz! The In-Between! He's... not normal."
Dok ceased his moral tirade and regarded his creation anew. He recalled the conversations they'd shared all those decades ago, when the young creature now standing before him was still discovering his powers and how to use them. To be honest, much of the underlying physics behind what Schrodinger could do still eluded the Doktor. The In-Between…
"Impossible, there's nothing in that- that Void. It's nowhere, its nothingness."
"But I can go there! And I found a friend. He spoke German and everything!"
Schrodinger looked sadly down at the ravaged body in front of him.
"But now he's dead. I shouldn't have tried to bring him back with me."
"I told you a long time ago, you can't take anyone with you. Although… This man's body survived an unshielded dimension hop partially intact. The corpse may be worth study."
Sensing grudging approval, Schrodinger stared at Dok in surprise, before grinning and lightly kicking the body at his feet.
"Ha! Still worth something, eh, Void-M-"
Schrodinger's sentence was cut off as the devastated corpse suddenly sat upright and grabbed his wrist with a hand that was half-exposed bone and muscle. Golden light poured from the body's eyes and mouth as it levitated into the air, still holding tightly onto Schrodinger's arm.
Eyes wide and panicking, Schrodinger switched rapidly between shouting for help and babbling apologies to the dead man, who was now suspended in a standing position in the centre of an aura of golden energy, hovering with its feet a few inches above the deck.
Dok staggered back in shock and amazement, taking in every detail of the sight before him. What was this? How was this happening? The urge to know and understand kept him rooted to his spot even as an unreasoning fear gripped him.
The zeppelin's bridge crew was in disarray. Half of them drew their sidearms out of instinct, but hesitated to shoot as instinctual dread coursed through the assembled vampires with each renewed, brighter pulse of golden light.
With a final, violent, blast of energy, Schrodinger was thrown clear of the un-corpse as a wave of force bowled Dok over and slammed the crew against their stations. The windows of the bridge would have been smashed had the blast-proof shutters not been down to shield the crew from the daylight outside.
The light remained too intense to look at directly for several moments, and only Dok, with his manifold lenses, was able to see any detail of the figure at the centre of the conflagration. Organs were re-grown, bones were mended, flesh and muscle coated the figure, now made scar-less and whole. Then he… changed. Dok only caught a quick glimpse of the fully healed man before the energy surged over his features, remolding his face and body. By the time the light finally faded and the smoke had cleared, a new man sat crouched naked on one knee in the centre of a circle of blackened char that now marred the Nazi crest on the bridge's deck.
Jerking his head upright, the Master surveyed the scene before him, taking in every detail in an instant.
Bridge of some form of transport, probably military judging by those weapons. Crewed by humans. All the technology looks archaic, mid-twentieth century at a guess…
"What year is it?"
The Master was shocked for a moment by the sound of his new voice, but quickly readjusted himself. Having gone through well over a dozen bodies in his lives, he had become accustomed to change. Rising to his full height, he noted the slightly altered stature of his new form; a little wider across the shoulders, a little more defined muscle than before. He absently ran his fingers through his hair. It was slightly curled, and black once again, judging from his body hair. While briefly wishing for a mirror, The Master noticed casually that every man on the bridge had their weapons leveled at him now, with the exception of the emaciated one in the labcoat. He smirked confidently. His frame literally hummed with excess energy, and it seemed the instability caused by his botched resurrection had finally been corrected. The way he was right now, the crew could empty their guns at him and he wouldn't even be scratched.
"I'll ask you again-"
A clanking sound behind him made him spin around in reflex, reaching instinctually for a weapon that wasn't there. The door at the back of the bridge opened, revealing a towering form. Clad in a dark-green greatcoat and military cap, all that was visible of the man behind the uniform were two red eyes in a grim, square-jawed face and a fringe of white, unkempt hair over his brows. Two guns were holstered at his hips; pistols with extremely long barrels. Their muzzles almost scraped the floor as the massive soldier walked steadily toward the Master with his gloved fists clenched, murder in his eyes, cruelty written in his face.
Taken aback by the sheer aggressiveness of the man, The Master dropped into a martial arts stance, preparing to fight his way past the advancing soldier and seek his answers elsewhere. The standoff was ended by a voice calling from behind the white-haired man's massive bulk.
"Captain! Hold for a moment, if you please."
The monolith ceased his march and stood in place, crimson irises still locked with the Master's piercing brown eyes. A second man stepped into view from behind the Captain. Short, blonde, and profoundly fat, the newcomer wore a white three-piece suit and thick, round spectacles which eerily reflected the lights of the bridge, giving his eyes a disquieting lamp-like quality.
"…Doktor, would you be so kind as to tell me why there is a naked man on my bridge?"
Jolted from his stunned silence, Dok got fully to his feet and responded haltingly.
"Major, it- Schrodinger- He brought- He was dead!"
Turning to and fro, Dok spied Schrodinger cowering on the deck immediately behind him, curled partially into the fetal position. Yanking him up by his arm, Dok reprimanded him sharply.
"You ignorant coward! Explain yourself to the Major!"
Dok's angry grimace changed instantly as he saw the expression on Schrodinger's face. His ears were folded against his head, his face was contorted in fear, and tears welled in his eyes.
"Dok, he- I- I couldn't move! He held me there… I couldn't move."
His fears intensifying, Dok glanced over at the man who had changed his face, now in conversation with the Major.
"Why couldn't I move, Dok?" Schrodinger was breathing heavily now, tears beginning to trail down his cheeks. "Y- You told me that was impossible. You promised!"
The man in the labcoat had no words for his creation, for once in his life completely at a loss. Dok swore under his breath.
"What in the hell is he?"
As the 'Doktor' searched for his feline companion, The Master remained focused on the suited man in front of him, clearly the one in charge.
"I think I might have inferred enough to clear up what has happened, if you'll permit me. Major, was it?"
The Major angled an eyebrow slightly and inclined his head.
"I was trapped in the Void, the nothingness between dimensions. If I'm correct, and I usually am, your young boy… cat… thing… is a dimension-jumper, yes?"
"That's one way of describing his abilities, yes."
"Ah. Good. Well you see, he found me and tried to bring me back to reality, but as I could have told him was I given the chance…" The Master fumed silently. "Unshielded travel through dimensional walls is a tricky business. By the time whatever was left of me arrived… wherever this is… I was very much dead. Luckily I possess a trick allowing me to 'cheat death'. After a fashion, that is. It is a fairly violent process, however, and must have startled your crew considerably, for which I apologize most sincerely."
Best to be sincere, helpful, and cooperative until I get my bearings. No use making enemies until I know where I am.
The Major seemed to take the Master's exposition in stride, pausing for only a moment to digest before speaking.
"What is your name?"
The Master ran through a mental list of aliases he had used over the centuries. So many names, all of them steeped in death, but none of them rang true in his soul like the first name: The first and most important of his titles.
"I am usually referred to as The Master."
The Major's mouth, which had been at a perpetual good-natured half-smile since he entered the bridge, now grinned fully. He nodded again, as if he had just confirmed a theory to himself.
"Is that so?"
"Universally." The Master responded coolly.
The Major's shining lenses were tilted exactly to meet the Master's own piercing gaze. The scene remained static, the two men sizing each other up, the only sound the distant drone of the zeppelin's powerful engines.
"Well then, first thing's first." The Major broke the silence, his genuine smile never leaving his face. "Captain, give this man your coat. He must be freezing."
With no visible hesitation, but with great deliberateness, the Captain undid his pistol belt, letting the massive weapons drop carelessly to the floor.
He doesn't think he needs them… The Master puzzled over the mysteries of this man and his behavior. Is it sheer obedience; military discipline? Does he so casually dismiss me as a threat? Or does he still have something up his sleeve?
The Captain then unbuttoned his greatcoat, revealing a bare, muscular chest, at no point taking his eyes off of the Master. He then handed the tent-like bulk of the heavy garment, as wordlessly as ever, to the dark-haired man.
The Master nodded politely in thanks and began to don the coat. It was, of course, too big, but it did do something against the chill which he was starting to notice as the excess energy of his regeneration began to wear off. Why do they not care about the cold? No-one else is dressed warmly… are they not full-human after all?
As the Master dressed himself, the Major spoke again. "I must confess something of an advantage over you at this point, Time Lord."
Stopping mid-button, the Master regarded the fat man anew.
"My organization has people everywhere, including operatives deep within UNIT, an international task force that I believe you have… some passing familiarity with?"
The Master's eyes narrowed. "So you've read my file. Am I supposed to be intimidated?"
The Major threw his hands up in a surrender gesture, concern diminishing, but not quite eliminating his smile. "No, no! Of course not, my Gallifreyan friend. I simply wish to show that there is no need to explain to me who or what you are. I am well aware of how… dangerous you are when you believe you're being underestimated."
Fully clad at last, The Master stood to his full height, haughtily looking down at the Major. He spoke his next words carefully, enunciating precisely and slowly.
"What year is it? Where am I? Who are you people?"
His smile reappearing, the Major responded. "It is anno domini nineteen-hundred and ninety-nine. You are on the bridge of the Graf Zeppelin II, a rigid airship flying approximately two-hundred metres above the Atlantic Ocean, and it is my distinct pleasure to introduce and welcome you to the Millennium Group."
Author's Notes: Well, there's the first chapter.
I wrote the bulk of this story over the last few months, but the idea for it came into my head about a year ago. Turns out being unemployed frees up a lot of time to write wacky crossover fan fiction. I didn't trust myself to upload it chapter by chapter because I know how hard I'd be on myself if for any reason I couldn't update regularly (even if nobody was reading it). So I held off until it was 100% done.
This will be a crossover in the style of 'new-characters-interacting-with-an-established-story'. The story of Hellsing Ultimate will be primary. This is very much 'Doctor Who characters in Hellsing'; not 'Hellsing characters in Doctor Who'.
My decision to include the Tenth Doctor in this was motivated by my love for David Tennant's incarnation of the character, as well as my feeling that he would fit in well with the dark and turbulent events of the Hellsing OVAs.
This was never intended to be a 'fix fic'. I wanted to include Ten in the story, but wanted it to take place after The End of Time so that I could introduce The Master to the story the way I wanted. Therefore I needed Ten to not die, so I found a solution. Similarly, as entertaining as the 'rabid-dog' characterization of The Master by John Simm was, I needed a different Master for story purposes, therefore the regeneration.
I'll be including references to the 'Classic Series' of Doctor Who, but an encyclopedic knowledge of the show's 50-year run is in no way required to understand this fic. I'll be including explanations of my shout-outs at the end of each chapter.
On that note, the spacesuit used off-screen by the Doctor to save Wilf was the same one he used in 42 (2007) when he was dangling outside of a spaceship literally within spitting distance of a sentient star that hated him. He needed a replacement helmet as the visor of his was broken in The Waters of Mars (2009). It just makes sense to me that it would be able to protect him in this case as well; making his sacrifice in The End of Time more of a suicidal bowing-to-the-inevitable than it might have been otherwise.
But like the man says: I'm just a viewer with an opinion.
The Doctor and The Master enter this story between OVAs three and four, when Alucard, Seras and Pip are still stranded in South America, and while the Major is still travelling by zeppelin from Rio to Millennium's secret base.
The Master's claim to speak five billion languages is a reference to the Doctor's boast to the Daleks in The Parting of the Ways (2005).
The exchange where The Master introduces himself to the Major is taken directly from his first appearance in Terror of the Autons (1971).
The endearingly bad German accents the English Dub voice actors employ for the men and women of Millennium will only be transcribed when they are speaking to someone in English. I see no reason to write a line in a thick accent when it's a German talking German to someone who understands German. When the characters don't have an accent, it's because they're speaking among themselves.
Obviously this story will contain spoilers for all ten episodes of Hellsing Ultimate and for Doctor Who up to the beginning of Series 5 (That's Season 31 to you old-school fans).