Chapter Eight: My Defining Moment

There comes a time in every being's life, New Jedi Order-regardless of age, gender, species, creed, whatever-when he or she must define who he or she is for the rest of time. Now, I've had plenty of defining moments for all my different lives, and they usually come right after a regeneration, when I define to myself what this next life will be like. Will I be funny, carefree, and child-like? Or will I be dark, brooding, and boring? But I've had one defining moment above all, one that would set the tone for the remainder of my incarnations up to the present day. Oddly enough, this moment didn't come at the beginning of one of my lives, but the end of one. The end of my eighth life, to be a bit more specific.

My eighth life was around for about ninety-two years, if I remember correctly. A fairly average lifespan for me, I'd say. Much longer than my sixth life, who called it quits after sixty years and a bump on the head, but I digress. This story is about my eighth life, not my sixth.

Of all my incarnations, my eighth was the least experienced in combat. A lot of my previous incarnations, and even my current one, at least had some combat under their belts. I might avoid it, but I fight when it's necessary, as you know. My eighth life, however, avoided combat at all costs. He absolutely hated it. I was a pacifist as my eighth life. I doubt my third life would approve.

Around the Temple, my eighth life was a respected and revered Jedi. I often gave lectures to the Initiates, to which they paid rapt attention. Even some of the Masters and Knights attended a few, seeking to learn from me, I'd imagine. I think one of the reasons many of the Masters respected me during my eighth life was for the fact that, during that time, I almost never drew my lightsaber, save for basic lightsaber training for the Initiates. Indeed, my lightsaber hadn't seen any real combat in almost a hundred years by the end of my eighth life.

But, eventually, there came a time when I began to feel that I had stayed the full welcome of my eighth life. With the exception of my sixth life, I had always gotten these feelings toward the end of each incarnation. It often ranged as far as duration was concerned, from several days in my fourth life to as little as an hour or so for my tenth, but the feelings was usually the same. My time in that particular body had come to an end, and it was time for me to regenerate.

Regeneration is an...interesting subject, New Jedi Order. Oftentimes, those who hear or read about it need to hear or see the information again to make sure they fully understand it. I will not be surprised if this is the case with you, and I want you to know that confusion is perfectly normal when experiencing a regeneration, second-hand or otherwise.

Basically, what happens is that when a Gallifreyan such as myself is mortally wounded or, in this particular case, chooses to regenerate, his or her body is enveloped in this golden light that essentially serves to rewrite the Gallifreyan's entire body, And I mean the entirety of everything. Height, weight, size of the hearts, length of the fingers, you name it. Even the mindset of the Gallifreyan in question is changed, sometimes very radically, as was the case with my fifth regeneration. Sometimes, though very rarely, a Gallifreyan will switch genders during a regeneration. Obi-Wan, Luke, Jennara, and Leia will most likely remember that I voiced my fears of having regenerated into a girl immediately after my tenth regeneration.

Now, a Gallifreyan is allowed twelve regenerations, a total of thirteen incarnations, before his or her life runs out entirely. But Gallifreyan bodies are different than the bodies of, say, a Human or a Bith or a Wookiee. They can last for much longer durations of time, upwards of a thousand years, I'm told, per incarnation. We can live for very long times. I, however, chose to regenerate early, having accomplished what the Force intended for that specific body to do.

And now, my eighth regeneration and my defining moment as the Doctor.

I had been having the feeling that the Force was calling me to regenerate for about a day or so. I, of course, meditated on it, to make sure that what I was interpreting as the Force's will was true. After several hours of concentration, I emerged from my chambers, solemn, but excited. I wondered what my new face would be like. Would he (or she, I wondered) be funny? Charming? Witty? Sarcastic? What would his stance be on fighting? Would he enjoy it, as my third life had? Would he try to avoid it, as my fifth life had done? Or would he downright reject it, as I was currently doing in my eighth life?

All of these questions and more would be answered within the hour.

I called a meeting of the High Council, and the other eleven Jedi Masters who comprised the august body, Tyvokka included, greeted me as they walked into the Council Chamber.

"You summoned us, Doctor?" said Tyvokka in his native Shyriiwook after we had all sat down.

"Yes," I said. "Ladies and gentlemen, the time has come for me to regenerate once again. The Eighth shall become the Ninth."

I had a knack for a bit of dramatic flair in my eighth life.

Several Council members looked quizzically at me, but Tyvokka nodded in understanding. He knew exactly what I had meant, having seen my previous regeneration firsthand.

"Doctor," said Tyvokka. "I have a proposition for you in regards to your impending change."

"What do you have in mind, Master Tyvokka?" I asked.

"After viewing your previous regeneration, I have devoted a great deal of my time to the study of your species's rare gift," explained Tyvokka. "And I believe I have found something most interesting."

"Go on," I said, curious.

"There is a Gallifreyan potion that will allow you to choose the basic outline of your next incarnation," said Tyvokka. "You could be a healer, or a politician, or a warrior."

I had heard of that potion. Evidently, it was pretty rare and, therefore, extremely hard to come by. If Tyvokka had acquired some, then I would have been very amazed.

"Of course, I haven't actually procured any," said Tyvokka, "but I have learned a technique that should have a similar effect. We, the Council, can guide you in your regeneration."

"I appreciate the offer, but why do you ask this, Master Tyvokka?" I asked.

"A Gallifreyan leader named the General made contact with the Supreme Chancellor today while I was meeting with her," answered Tyvokka. "He is desperate for your help, Doctor. The Time War, as he called it, is spiraling out of control. The General believes that your assistance is the last hope for Gallifrey. He wants you to become a warrior and fight with his armies."

I paused for a long moment, thinking about my options. I could become a warrior and fight with my people, possibly saving Gallifrey, or I could do nothing, regenerate randomly, and leave my planet to die. I did strongly consider leaving at first. I had the chance to save my planet from total destruction. All I had to do was fight with the Drolemit Gallifreyans.

But then I remembered the rage I had felt during my first visit to Gallifrey, in my second life, wherein I had almost lost myself to the Dark Side fighting against the Skaroans. I got the feeling that I would lose myself completely if I fought. Plus, the battleground was personal to me. Gallifrey was where I was from. To fight for the stability of that planet would, in turn, destabilize me with my personal attachments to the planet.

I had made my decision, and I unknowingly defined who I was as the Doctor.

"No," I said quietly. "I can't do it. I can't fight on Gallifrey."

"We will abide by your decision, Doctor," said one of the other Council members, a Bothan named Gir Kre'Sei. "We will not pressure you in any way."

"Thank you, my friends," I said. "It's just that to fight on Gallifrey would be far too personal for me, seeing as I'm from there." I neglected to tell them about my fear of turning to the Dark Side while fighting, but I think that they had figured that out for themselves.

"It is understandable, Doctor," said Tyvokka. "And I personally commend you for your bravery. It is one thing to show bravery in battle, but another entirely to show bravery by not fighting at all. Shall we?"

"Of course," I said with a smile. "Few are fortunate enough to witness a Gallifreyan regeneration."

I stood up, and the Council followed me to a secret room within the Temple to which only the Council had access. That particular room has been used almost every single time I have regenerated, with the exception of my sixth regeneration, when I had been off-planet on a mission, and my tenth regeneration, when I was unable to go to the Jedi Temple because it was being heavily guarded by Imperial stormtroopers.

But it's not the room that helps me. It's the beings around me. It seems that whenever there are Jedi around me, my regenerations go much smoother. Maybe I'm subconsciously stabilizing myself with their Force energy to recuperate my own. I'm not entirely sure, but that seems to be the way it goes with these things. Such was the case here.

I walked to the center of the room, preparing myself for the inevitable.

"If you wish to change your mind, Doctor, we will understand and help you," said Tyvokka from the edges of the vast, dimly-lit room.

"I've made my choice," I said resolutely. "I will not fight in the Time War."

"Very well," said Tyvokka. "When you're ready."

"Physician, heal thyself," I murmured as I spread my hands wide.

I closed my eyes, giving myself up to the Force, letting the regeneration begin at the Force's leisure. It took maybe a few seconds to start.

Regeneration is a bit of a painful process. It has to be, as you're literally rewriting just about everything that makes you you, save for the memories. This particular regeneration was the second-most powerful I have ever experienced, with the exception of my tenth regeneration, which, Han Solo will probably most vehemently tell you, nearly took out his ship, the Millenium Falcon.

The golden light enveloped my hands, my feet, my entire body in a calming warmth. It crept up from my chest to my face, soothing me and calming me as I let myself go to the regeneration. After a few seconds, I began to feel a tingling sensation all over my body, followed by a burning feeling that grew more intense with each passing second. And after a while, I could hold it in no longer. I was ready. I released the energy, officially beginning my eighth regeneration.

If you ever want to know what a regeneration feels like, imagine the worst burning you have ever felt and double it. Now triple that, and you have a regeneration. Of course, I don't feel that particular burning until the very last second, when the pain is at its worst, and I can feel my body changing very rapidly. During the last second of my eighth regeneration, I could feel my shoulder-length hair receding back into my head. I felt myself growing taller, and my ears and nose getting bigger. My robes were pressing against my body as it grew too large for them. The fiery feeling had reached its climax, and I let out a yell, first in my own voice, which rapidly changed into my new, then-unfamiliar voice. And then, just like that, it was over. I was a new man.

I collapsed on the floor of the regeneration room, exhausted from my ordeal. I panted heavily as though I had just done an extremely vigorous workout, even for a Gallifreyan. I looked at my new hands, noticing the torn sleeves of my old robes. I would eventually change them, of course, but for now, I just needed to lie where I was for a moment.

"Doctor?" came a voice in Shyriiwook. It was Tyvokka, and the big Wookiee Jedi Master was kneeling before me, putting his huge paw underneath my head, supporting me as I sat up.

"How do you feel?" asked Tyvokka tentatively.

I looked around at him and the rest of the Council for a brief few moments. Then, my face split into a wide grin that my ninth life would be known for throughout his time as the Doctor, and I uttered the very first word my ninth life ever spoke, which would also serve as his catchphrase, of sorts.

"Fantastic!"

I've got to tell you, New Jedi Order, that not fighting in the Time War ended up being one of the smartest things I have ever done. In my tenth life, during a quest set to me by the spirit of Qui-Gon Jinn, I came across a vision of myself, what I would have become had I fought. He called himself a bunch of different names: Beast, Valeyard, Oncoming Storm. I called him the War Doctor. Anyway, the War Doctor was an agent of the Dark Side, and a very powerful one at that. I think I was sporting bruises from my fight with him for several days afterward. He repulsed me, and though I had initially regretted my decision after Gallifrey finally fell, I realized that my eighth life was right to abstain from the Time War. I didn't want to become that monster in any way.

Gallifrey would eventually fall about a hundred years after I regenerated into my ninth self. Everyone on the planet died. The Master, the General, the Bishop, the Commander, the Praetorian, everyone. They all died. Gallifrey was rendered uninhabitable, which killed all life on the planet, and it eventually crumbled into dust and nothingness. The Time War had killed Gallifrey. I don't claim to know what started the Time War, and I doubt even Rassilon knew what had caused it during his time. But I do know that it had destroyed my home planet, and I alone survived because I did not fight. For a while, I wasn't sure if I should have been grateful or guilty, but I eventually learned that Gallifrey would have been destroyed anyway, regardless of whether or not I fought. It was just a question of whether or not I would have been the one to kill it. Yes, the War Doctor would have destroyed Gallifrey himself had I become him during my eighth regeneration.

The lesson we can find in this instance of my life is this: It doesn't matter where you come from, which group you belong to, or even what species you are. None of that matters. It is your choices that define who you are as a being of the galaxy. Your choices will affect the outcomes of wars, political campaigns, and especially your own lives. What role you play in this galaxy is determined by your actions. I could have been the most powerful ruler the galaxy has ever known, but I would have had to lose what makes me the Doctor in order to do that, and no amount of power is worth that. My eighth life defined who I am, and I am grateful to him for that. My eighth life didn't know that, of course, but he knew that he made the right decision, and I still know that today. And now, the time has come for you to define who you are, New Jedi Order. So, how will you be defined?


Hey, all! Hope you had fun reading this chapter of Star Wars (Starring the Doctor)! It's actually one of the last! We've got two more chapters, then a short epilogue, and that's it. It's been quite a journey, and I'm glad I got to share it with all of you. Anyway, I'll save my goodbyes for the epilogue! For now, tell me what you thought of this chapter in a review! I do read them! I promise!

This chapter was a lot of fun to write, and I hope I got Paul McGann's Doctor okay. I did my best with what little on-screen material I had to glean some kind of character from him, although what was there did a brilliant job of it. McGann is actually one of my personal favorite Doctors (he's somewhere in the top five), so I hope I did his character justice!

As I briefly discussed last week's Doctor Who episode on Sunday, I won't talk about it here, but I'll talk about tomorrow's episode next Friday, when I post the Ninth Doctor's story. It'll definitely be there.

Time seems to be passing more slowly now that I'm at college, and I don't really know how to feel about it. Just some random thoughts that popped into my head.

Next Friday: The Ninth Doctor takes on a fearsome terentatek in the bowls of the Kashyyyk Shadowlands!

And that's about it for this author's note. Until the next chapter, my friends!