Crossed Wires
by ErtheChilde
'You're trying to say that everything you do is reasonable, and everything I do is inhuman. Well, I'm afraid your judgement's at fault.'
General AN: I decided I didn't like the formatting and chapter lengths of Crossed Wires, so I spent the day fixing that. As of Chapter Three, I've added a little to certain chapters, and moved others to their own chapters. The only completely new material today is introduced in the last part of Chapter Eleven, but I highly suggest going back and rereading from the beginning because I have made certain chapters longer and added a few things in others.
TEN
For a long while, the Doctor stood in silent repose at what had just transpired.
Guilt and pain washed over him at having gotten another innocent person killed, all because he was trying to free himself. The logical part of him – the stuffy Time Lord part that he had taken to ignoring – argued that the end justified the means. The other part of him – the one that had always rebelled at such logic, reminded him that he had at least given the Aylan a fighting chance.
Son Cavak had not died tied to a stake in an arena, murdered in front of millions. He had died in battle, sort of, and that was important to his culture.
If the Doctor was given the chance, he would fight too. Until the last.
'We'll go down fighting, yeah?' a voice murmured in his memories. 'Together?'
Memories of that basement in Cardiff returned to him, Rose's innocence and bravado in the face of certain death, and he flexed his fingers once more. He imagined the phantom feel of her fingers against his, missing her by his side but so very glad that she hadn't been caught up in all of this.
He used the memory of her bravery – of her forgiveness – to bolster him.
He needed to harden his hearts against his guilt of the Aylan's death because it was too important that he get out of here now. He had to save this moon from the travesty of a government and get back to Rose and the TARDIS.
Oh, Rassilon, what if she left the TARDIS?
He'd said an hour, and it had definitely been more than that! Even if there was technically no time in the TARDIS, Rose would be counting down – on the damned watch he had given her – and would get worried. She wasn't exactly a patient person to begin with, and he could just imagine that she might –
No. No, she wouldn't. She's smart, she knows how stupid it would be to leave the TARDIS on an alien world with no way of communicating.
He hoped.
It was another worry that he had to force out of his mind. Thinking on it wouldn't help him escape from here. And if the timer on his cage was any indication, he likely didn't have more than a day to figure out a solution.
If only he had –
He could feel eyes on him, in the focused way of someone actively staring. It was different from the speculative look the other aliens had been giving him whenever he did something like test the electric bars or attempt to communicate with anyone. This was more focused, intense – thoughtful in a way that suggested something was trying to categorize him.
Before he could decipher that, though, he was nearly bowled over by the sudden, shocking brush of something against his consciousness.
A query of some sort.
He looked up, seeking the origin of it with both his eyes and his mind, and found himself staring being watched from a cage across from him and a few rows over. The heavy-boned alien held there was humanoid in shape and size, but taller than a human male. Its eyes were slits, and its flattened face scrunched forward like someone had seized it and pulled it down to its chin. It would've been a brave move for anyone to try, considering the mouth full of sharp fangs…
A Sxaravid.
What the hell is that doing here?
Sxaravids were pretty much the universe equivalent of a dung beetle. Their entire life revolved around consuming the deleterious of life – rubbish, clothing, space junk, concrete – though their preferred diet was meat-based. They also happened to be chrono-sensitive and gravitated toward areas of high temporal activity because of the amount of organic and inorganic material ended up drawn to there.
Although strong and faster than many sentient bipedal species, they were actually one of the more primitive devolutions the human race would one day take. They had no recognizable language, but were mildly telepathic, which they relied on along with their strong empathic senses, to communicate.
What one was doing in here among the rare specimen of alien that the Doctor had so far categorized, he didn't know – but he imagined it had something to do with the savage nature of the Sxaravid species.
Maybe the bear-aliens realized that putting more than one Sxaravid in an area with another was asking for trouble. They weren't cannibals, but get them together and they'd quickly overrun a place like locusts.
Not that any of that mattered to the Doctor right now. Because Sxaravids had enough telepathic ability to communicate.
Granted, it would be imprecise and painful, considering how long it had been since he tried to communicate with someone without using touch to ground himself – and that wasn't even taking in to account how painful it was just to feel another mind in the empty space where the other Time Lords had always resided – but it would have to do.
He closed his eyes and focussed, drumming up the strength remaining to him after his failed attempt at slowing time for the Aylan. He would not me attempting that particular trick again any time soon, if ever.
The Doctor had to force himself not to wince at the shock of intentionally touching another mind with his. He knew intellectually that the aching was more psychosomatic than anything else, but it didn't stop his heartsrate increasing in response to pain stimuli.
If the Sxaravid noticed his pain, it didn't remark on it. In fact, the alien seemed greatly humbled by the Doctor for some reason that he couldn't quite –
Ah.
He remembered now.
Sxaravids had a great reverence for Death, and this one could sense that he was still recovering from a war that had been rife with it. The Doctor knew that the scent must surround him, that the reek of loss and pain had become so firmly entwined with his being that he would probably never be without it again.
The creature's thoughts once again brushed against his own, another query and then an offer.
The Doctor felt sick just parsing it, for the Sxaravid was implying that it would help the Doctor, even though it was aware its death was assured. In fact, like the Aylan, it seemed quite intent on it. It believed that there would be great honor in its demise if it served the Bringer of Darkness in its final moments.
The Doctor recoiled slightly at both the name and the offer.
Even in his desperation, the idea of causing yet another death so soon after the first made his skin crawl.
It reminded him too strongly of that time. The period of his life that he strove every day to forget, to push to the back of his mind.
Using another creature for his own purposes was so Time Lord, so not the way of the Doctor, and situations like this just kept popping up.
He swallowed, fighting back those thoughts. He couldn't afford to think like that right now. What had he said to Rose?
'This is who I am, right here, right now, all right? All that counts is here and now, and this is me.'
Past actions and past guilt couldn't enter into things right now, not if he was going to save these people. And anyone else hurt by the regime. And Rose, if she was being her jeopardy friendly self and wandering about up there like she shouldn't be but which he suspected she might be.
And at the end of that list, of course, there was himself. He had to keep going, didn't he? Gallifrey had to keep living through him, and it wouldn't do if he was turned into a pincushion in front of millions of panda horse aliens with an aversion to foreigners.
He forced himself to accept the Sxaravid's offer.
There was little other choice, he knew, and although he was doubtful that this would have a decent resolution, he might be able to impress upon the Sxaravid not to cause too much harm.
This time when the timer went off, there were at least four guards that went to get the Sxaravid.
Evidently the Doctor's thoughts on why it had been locked away were correct – they probably knew its nature from painful personal experience.
As with the Aylan, the Sxaravid allowed itself to be led from its pen and remained relatively calm, its attention on the four weapons surrounding it as the guards led it up the aisle. As before, the majority of the imprisoned aliens looked away, and the fox savage seemed to bounce on the spot, eager for more bloodshed.
I hope for the sake of your kind you're just an aberration, he thought to the creature. It wasn't many species he was glad were extinct, but this one was close to being added to the Doctor's very short list.
The Sxaravid remained compliant until just in front of the Doctor's cage. Then it suddenly threw itself forward, snarling like it intended to attack the Doctor, while apparently trying to break it open with its bare hands.
Electricity ran through the bars, shocking it, but in its adrenaline fueled rage it didn't seem to notice. The guards tried to contain it again, the four of them surrounding it and attempting to jolt it with their batons.
They hemmed it in against the bars, and the smell of burning flesh got worse – with it, the Doctor felt the last shreds of rational sentience disappear as well. He tried to caution it, to bring it back to itself and keep it on task.
The Sxaravid suddenly whirled around and tore into the throat of one of the guards. There was a pained, surprised yell that devolved into gurgling, and the Doctor yelled in protest at this, trying to tell the Sxaravid that this wasn't needed, but it didn't seem to hear him.
It was beyond listening to even the Bringer of Darkness, it seemed.
More guards had joined the fray, and in the melee the Doctor almost didn't notice something small and metallic slide across the floor and through the gap in his cage until he stepped on it.
Just as he picked up the key shaped object to secret away, the consciousness of the Sxaravid abruptly disappeared. He could see that the many guards now surrounding the beast had finally managed to put enough of an electrical charge through it that its heart had stopped.
The finality of it hit the Doctor like a physical blow. He had forgotten to shield himself from the creature's thoughts.
The guards must have suspected that the Doctor had been instigating things, because a vicious charge went through his cage as well, causing his knees to buckle and him to slump to the floor.
Luckily, they seemed so bound by their own rules and protocol that they didn't move his execution time, because the numbers stayed the same. There was also no indication anyone was coming to let him out now.
Which was good, because now he had a tool with which to get out.
From his place on the floor, he saw the other aliens looked down at him now, seeming intent and keen or curious as to why two prisoners now had tried to free him from his cage.
Looks like I've got a captive audience, he thought grimly, trying not to think of what Rose would have said to that had she been there.
Right now he had to pull together a plan, knowing it would all hinge on the moment when they let him out. He had no idea how much time he had, having not figured out the exact numbers on his timer yet, and he had to orchestrate all of it without words.