COURTROOMS AND CONSEQUENCES
"I must confess, I am at a loss as to what we should do."
His two colleagues nodded in agreement. They had been debating the issues for some time, and seemed no nearer a solution. "Now that we finally have him," said one, "what do we do with him?"
"He certainly gave a spirited defence," admitted another.
"And there lies our quandary." The senior Time Lord rose from his chair, facing the other two. "The Doctor has revealed a flaw in us - that we do no more than observe, while he has gone out into the universe, allaying himself with the oppressed to defeat their enemies."
The first Time Lord was shocked. "Surely you do not condone such behaviour?"
"No, but consider this. In exposing the distinction between the Doctor and the rest of Gallifrey, can we now continue to watch over the cosmos as before, knowing that one of us could make a difference, as he does?"
"It is what we have done for a thousand millennia!"
The second Time Lord raised his hand. "Calm yourself, Lord President. I have to admit, I see the validity in the argument. This is not something we can turn away from. The Doctor has forced us to question our actions, and the issue must be addressed."
The President nodded. "I see that, but this takes us no further forward in deciding the Doctor's punishment."
"But whatever we decide, here in this room, will shape our future." The two men silently agreed with the senior juror, as they considered the options open to them. "If we were to impound his TARDIS and keep him here, there could be potential embarrassment for the High Council."
"I can imagine the consequences," the third juror agreed. "Allowing the Doctor, to all intends a criminal and a renegade, to roam free on Gallifrey."
"Nor can we treat him the same as the War Lord," the President noted, "for although he has broken our law of non-interference, it does seem to have been for the good of all."
The third Time Lord let out a sigh of exasperation. "So what do we do?"
"There is another choice."
He may have been there for some time, or perhaps not. But the three of them turned to acknowledge his presence. "What do you suggest?" the President asked.
"Exile."
The senior of the three approached. "Where to?"
Through the dark shadows, there was the merest hint of a smile. "The Doctor seems to have a fondness for the planet Earth," came the reply. "A time has been foreseen when that planet will face its greatest challenges, as alien races seek to either make first contact, or to conquer."
The President nodded his understanding. "The Doctor would be best placed to help this planet in its time of need."
"And to ensure his co-operation," the senior member suggested, "we take away his knowledge of time travel."
"And all your problems are solved," the stranger observed.
The President clapped his hands for attention. "Come. We must inform the Doctor of his fate." They made to leave, then turned back to thank the stranger for his counsel, only to find he had gone.
*****
It was much later, when the three jurors reconvened. "Have we done the right thing?" the President wondered. "To exile one of us to one planet would be purgatory."
"I am sure the Doctor will cope," the senior juror replied. "He has experience of Earth and their ways."
"And if our advisor was correct," suggested the third Time Lord, "the Doctor will be far from idle." A thought occurred. "Perhaps we can call on his services - from time to time."
"I wonder how he knew?" The senior juror was deep in thought.
"Our advisor? He is a Time Lord."
"Is he?" He chose his words carefully. "We know so little of him, yet whenever there is doubt within the High Council, he is there. Entering and leaving without a sound. It's as if he knows more than he is prepared to reveal."
The President was concerned. "You sound as though you doubt his sincerity."
"His sincerity, no. But his motives, yes."
"Could he be a CIA agent?" the third Time Lord asked.
The juror shook his head. "If the Celestial Intervention Agency were involved, we would know about it - they would make sure of that. No, I'm convinced he is some other . . ." he shrugged. "But the deed is done. Let us return to our duties. The Doctor has begun his exile, and as you say, he may be useful to us at some future time."
*****
Time Lords do not sleep. There is no requirement for them to do so. But that evening, the senior juror did sleep - restlessly. Strange dreams tormented him, images that he had long ago buried, almost as though someone were probing his memory.
"Wake up, Chancellor!" He did so, with a start.
The room was in darkness, but he could see the shadowy figure before him. "Who are you?"
"Your advisor, of course." There was a trace of mockery in his tone.
"Why can't I see you?"
The question was left unanswered. "Well, you have taken an interest in the Doctor's well-being, haven't you?"
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, come now, Chancellor. I know all about your trip to the Land of Fiction."
The intended retort dried in his throat. "How could you possibly know that?" he asked, unable to keep the tremor from his voice.
"I have my methods," came the reply. "And I make it my business to know such things." He laughed. "Spying on the Doctor in the guise of Emile Gulliver. And you doubt my motives?"
The Chancellor hid his fear well. "What do you want of me?"
His visitor seemed surprised by the question. "Why, nothing. I just thought we should meet. One to one. Unofficially."
"And yet I can barely see you," the Chancellor pointed out.
"You will know me soon enough. Our destinies are intertwined." The visitor rose from his seated position. "I shall take my leave of you now." He paused, as if remembering. "There is just one more thing."
He strode toward the Chancellor, arms outstretched. Before he could protest, his head was held in a vice like grip, as a pair of dark eyes bore into him. He heard only one word. "Forget!"
Released from his temporary immobility, the Chancellor fell back onto his bed, drifting into an unnatural sleep before his head hit the pillow. He would not remember the events of this night. But one day . . .
The Master looked down, admiring his handiwork. "We shall meet again, you and I. But even I cannot know when that will be. I only know that it will happen." Satisfied, he slipped back into the darkness.
Presently, there was no sign that anyone, apart from Chancellor Goth, had ever been in that room.
"I must confess, I am at a loss as to what we should do."
His two colleagues nodded in agreement. They had been debating the issues for some time, and seemed no nearer a solution. "Now that we finally have him," said one, "what do we do with him?"
"He certainly gave a spirited defence," admitted another.
"And there lies our quandary." The senior Time Lord rose from his chair, facing the other two. "The Doctor has revealed a flaw in us - that we do no more than observe, while he has gone out into the universe, allaying himself with the oppressed to defeat their enemies."
The first Time Lord was shocked. "Surely you do not condone such behaviour?"
"No, but consider this. In exposing the distinction between the Doctor and the rest of Gallifrey, can we now continue to watch over the cosmos as before, knowing that one of us could make a difference, as he does?"
"It is what we have done for a thousand millennia!"
The second Time Lord raised his hand. "Calm yourself, Lord President. I have to admit, I see the validity in the argument. This is not something we can turn away from. The Doctor has forced us to question our actions, and the issue must be addressed."
The President nodded. "I see that, but this takes us no further forward in deciding the Doctor's punishment."
"But whatever we decide, here in this room, will shape our future." The two men silently agreed with the senior juror, as they considered the options open to them. "If we were to impound his TARDIS and keep him here, there could be potential embarrassment for the High Council."
"I can imagine the consequences," the third juror agreed. "Allowing the Doctor, to all intends a criminal and a renegade, to roam free on Gallifrey."
"Nor can we treat him the same as the War Lord," the President noted, "for although he has broken our law of non-interference, it does seem to have been for the good of all."
The third Time Lord let out a sigh of exasperation. "So what do we do?"
"There is another choice."
He may have been there for some time, or perhaps not. But the three of them turned to acknowledge his presence. "What do you suggest?" the President asked.
"Exile."
The senior of the three approached. "Where to?"
Through the dark shadows, there was the merest hint of a smile. "The Doctor seems to have a fondness for the planet Earth," came the reply. "A time has been foreseen when that planet will face its greatest challenges, as alien races seek to either make first contact, or to conquer."
The President nodded his understanding. "The Doctor would be best placed to help this planet in its time of need."
"And to ensure his co-operation," the senior member suggested, "we take away his knowledge of time travel."
"And all your problems are solved," the stranger observed.
The President clapped his hands for attention. "Come. We must inform the Doctor of his fate." They made to leave, then turned back to thank the stranger for his counsel, only to find he had gone.
*****
It was much later, when the three jurors reconvened. "Have we done the right thing?" the President wondered. "To exile one of us to one planet would be purgatory."
"I am sure the Doctor will cope," the senior juror replied. "He has experience of Earth and their ways."
"And if our advisor was correct," suggested the third Time Lord, "the Doctor will be far from idle." A thought occurred. "Perhaps we can call on his services - from time to time."
"I wonder how he knew?" The senior juror was deep in thought.
"Our advisor? He is a Time Lord."
"Is he?" He chose his words carefully. "We know so little of him, yet whenever there is doubt within the High Council, he is there. Entering and leaving without a sound. It's as if he knows more than he is prepared to reveal."
The President was concerned. "You sound as though you doubt his sincerity."
"His sincerity, no. But his motives, yes."
"Could he be a CIA agent?" the third Time Lord asked.
The juror shook his head. "If the Celestial Intervention Agency were involved, we would know about it - they would make sure of that. No, I'm convinced he is some other . . ." he shrugged. "But the deed is done. Let us return to our duties. The Doctor has begun his exile, and as you say, he may be useful to us at some future time."
*****
Time Lords do not sleep. There is no requirement for them to do so. But that evening, the senior juror did sleep - restlessly. Strange dreams tormented him, images that he had long ago buried, almost as though someone were probing his memory.
"Wake up, Chancellor!" He did so, with a start.
The room was in darkness, but he could see the shadowy figure before him. "Who are you?"
"Your advisor, of course." There was a trace of mockery in his tone.
"Why can't I see you?"
The question was left unanswered. "Well, you have taken an interest in the Doctor's well-being, haven't you?"
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, come now, Chancellor. I know all about your trip to the Land of Fiction."
The intended retort dried in his throat. "How could you possibly know that?" he asked, unable to keep the tremor from his voice.
"I have my methods," came the reply. "And I make it my business to know such things." He laughed. "Spying on the Doctor in the guise of Emile Gulliver. And you doubt my motives?"
The Chancellor hid his fear well. "What do you want of me?"
His visitor seemed surprised by the question. "Why, nothing. I just thought we should meet. One to one. Unofficially."
"And yet I can barely see you," the Chancellor pointed out.
"You will know me soon enough. Our destinies are intertwined." The visitor rose from his seated position. "I shall take my leave of you now." He paused, as if remembering. "There is just one more thing."
He strode toward the Chancellor, arms outstretched. Before he could protest, his head was held in a vice like grip, as a pair of dark eyes bore into him. He heard only one word. "Forget!"
Released from his temporary immobility, the Chancellor fell back onto his bed, drifting into an unnatural sleep before his head hit the pillow. He would not remember the events of this night. But one day . . .
The Master looked down, admiring his handiwork. "We shall meet again, you and I. But even I cannot know when that will be. I only know that it will happen." Satisfied, he slipped back into the darkness.
Presently, there was no sign that anyone, apart from Chancellor Goth, had ever been in that room.