Sanctuary

Now Think of Tomorrow

As it turned out, Alison was surprisingly easy to locate. Rose went for the straightforward approach and asked the first person that she met where she might find her. The officious little man, carefully dressed in a pinstripe suit and carrying a bowler hat was only too eager to help after she mentioned that she was with the Doctor. It seemed that he had quite a reputation.

He directed her to a stairwell at the end of a bleak, out of the way little corridor. The unadorned walls and stone floor were in stark contrast to what she had seen of the rest of the Parliament building. Rose padded carefully along the corridor, looking over her shoulder as she walked. She wasn't being followed, but she felt like she was being watched.

The stairs looked unsturdy at best. She took hold of the banister and gave it a firm shake. The metallic ring echoed in the corridor. She had a final look over her shoulder and began to walk down the stairs.

They were longer than she had imagined, and seemed to grow darker the further down she went. Soon patches of her journey were in virtual darkness as the wall lights became further and further spaced out. The lack of illumination made her nervous and she was beginning to wonder if this was such a good idea. She had, after all, no idea where the stairs ended.

She kept walking, even if she turned back now it would be a long journey back up. The stairs had to end sometime, but when she found herself in complete darkness for more than a few minutes, Rose swallowed, almost convinced that the helpful little man had sent her here as a way to keep her out of the way. But then she caught a patch of greyness below. She raced dangerously fast round the stairs and finally found solid ground and another corridor.

Dimly lit, but the walls here were a gleaming white. She ran her hand over the surface and was surprised to find that it felt like plastic. She walked on.

After a few short metres, her way was blocked by a heavy double door, locked shut and with a palm-print scanner to gain access. Rose pressed her hand against the scanner only to have it give an annoyed beep. The doors remained shut.

She tried the old-fashioned approach, and knocked. "Hello?" she said. "I'm looking for Alison."

To her surprise, a few moments later the door slid open. Alison stood behind it, one hand on her hip and a wry expression on her face. "You're not really supposed to be down here," she said in a stage whisper.

"Says who?" asked Rose.

Alison grinned and step aside. "Well, come in then."

It was a strange round room, with almost luminescent white walls curving into an elliptical roof. Alison moved to the main workstation, located in the centre of the room. The doors slid closed behind her, and it somehow seemed so much quieter.

"Peaceful, isn't it?" said Alison, as though catching her thought.

Rose nodded, her attention caught by the nearest window, though the glass was too misty for her to see through. It was perhaps two metres tall and there were more set into the wall at even intervals around the room. She wondered what they were hiding.

"Is this where you work?" asked Rose.

"Not exactly," Alison told her. "I come here to think, to reflect, I suppose."

"It's something to do with this room then, this feeling? I feel a bit weird, kind of serene."

"We're cut off from the rest of the universe," said Alison. "This is…was a part of the Master's TARDIS. He didn't have much use for it."

"I didn't mean to disturb you," said Rose, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable.

"You're not. Really. In fact, I'm glad you're here. In Sanctuary, I mean." She smiled. "You remind me of home. You're from the twentieth century, aren't you ?"

"Just barely," Rose told her. "So how did you get here then?"

"Same way as you, I'd guess. Maybe a little more complicated."

"The Doctor wants to know what the big plan is."

Alison raised her eyebrows. "You don't muck about do you?"

"Hey, you don't seem the type to start shooting at me."

"That happen a lot?"

"Only one or twice a week. If I'm lucky." She planted her elbows on the workstation and rested her head on her hands. "Come on then, what are you doing here?"

"You really want to know?" asked Alison.

"I'm all for saving the world."

Alison slid into the seat on the other side of the console and leaned forward, as though afraid she would be overheard. "That's what we're trying to do here. Those people that you saw, they're not like us. You and me, I mean. They don't have any homes to go back to. They're the unlucky ones. They're the ones who survived."

"The Time War? They like the Doctor then?" asked Rose.

"Time Lords? No. No, you'd be surprised how many species in the universe resemble humans…or Gallifreyans. Thank you, Rassilon." She smiled suddenly, falsely, but Rose didn't recognise the name.

"The Doctor says the Master's…" began Rose.

"…evil? Not to be trusted? Going to kill him?" asked Alison. Rose nodded. "I wouldn't blame him. And he's right, I suppose," she sighed, and caught Rose's startled look. "Don't worry. Things have changed quite significantly since they last…since your Doctor last met him. And one thing I've noticed is that however much they hate each other, they're not afraid to put their differences aside when the situation calls for it."

Rose blinked, realisation setting in. "You know the Doctor?"

"In a way," said Alison. "I'm not supposed to…" She broke off, looking away.

"Alison?" Rose asked softly. She reached across the console and took the other woman's hand. "Alison, what's wrong?"

Alison shook her head, and Rose could see her biting her lip. She tried to think of the right thing to say. "Alison, whatever it is, I want to help you, okay?"

She smiled another false smile, and touched a control on the console.

One of the windows on the far side of the room cleared to reveal a person, a man, inside with greying hair and gaunt features. His eyes were closed, his skin a sickly pale colour.


The guard gave him a final rough push and the Doctor stumbled into the room ahead. "D'you mind?" he snapped over his shoulder at the closing door. He readjusted his leather jacket and looked around: another day room, but, unlike the one that had been given to Rose and him, this one had a claustrophobically low ceiling and was all deep burgundy and dark wooden panelling.

Over on the far side of the room was another door, open and leading out onto a balcony. The Doctor could see the Master there, hands neatly clasped behind his back as he admired the view.

Well, this was were he wanted to be anyway, decided the Doctor and joined the Master outside. The sunlight was harsh, but the view was lovely and the geography of the colony spread out in front of him like a patchwork quilt: it was a strange mixture of the primitive and the technological. He waited for the Master to speak.

"Why didn't you just ask?" he said finally, turning to face the Doctor and leaning back against the balcony wall.

"You'd really just tell me?"

The Master smiled. "Of course."

"You seemed quite keen to leave earlier," said the Doctor.

"There was something I had to attend to."

"I didn't notice."

"Servo-receiver," he said, tapping his ear.

"What's it saying now then?" asked the Doctor. "It tell you what we were saying in our rooms then?" There was no reply. "Didn't think to just transmat down and tell us what we wanted to know?"

"And deprive you of the pleasure of your paranoia? Besides, I felt a small experiment was in order. You are, Doctor, as predictable as ever."

"So sorry to disappoint," said the Doctor, folding his arms.

The Master shook his head. "No, not at all. On the contrary, I am very much relieved."

The Doctor gave him an incredulous look, still he couldn't help but notice how tired he seemed. It was disconcerting, to see something approaching vulnerability in those eyes. In his memories they had been familiar, at first, then grown cold and distant before they finally, and once he had thought terminally, changed to an animal's, fiery with anger and madness. He almost closed his eyes at the memory, the horror of it rolling over his senses as he felt the sun on his back and the dirt under his nails and the rich, raw anger that had almost made him kill this man.

"So how come you're not dead?" he asked bluntly.

"Now I think it is you who are disappointed."

"I want to know how you survived," said the Doctor with a touch of aggression, and taking a step forward.

The Master was unimpressed. "If you are trying to intimidate me, I assure you that even after all you have done, I am quite capable of killing you, before you kill me." A smile, and a flash of teeth reminded the Doctor how dangerous he was. He noticed the Master's subtle change in stance as if he were preparing for violence, and stepped away from him, leaning casually on the balcony wall.

"I did what I had to do."

"You destroyed our race," said the Master quietly. "You committed genocide, Doctor!" The anger was there, but tightly controlled. The Doctor, on the other hand, had no compunctions about keeping his temper.

"I had no choice!" he shouted.

"No choice?" hissed the Master. "Isn't that what one says when one's conscience is bothering them? How is you conscience today, Doctor? Is it quiet enough to hear the dead screaming?"

"I didn't realise you had such a fondness for our home world."

The Master looked away, turning to look at the view once more. "To have savoured the final defeat of the Time Lords, to have watched as Gallifrey burned into ashes." He looked back at the Doctor. "Oh yes, Doctor, that would have pleased me once. But I would have destroyed them in revenge, not anger. A tool as powerful as Gallifrey should not have been disposed of lightly; it could have been used to bring about a new universal order." As the Master paused, the Doctor felt almost relieved: this was the man he remembered, and familiar territory was so precious to him now. "Oh, I would have seen them cowed, seen them suffer, before unleashing them into the universe. They would have been…undefeatable."

"Obviously not."

"Inadequate leadership."

"You'd have done things differently, I suppose?"

"And who were you to decide the fate of our species, Doctor? Who were you?"

The Doctor's eyes flashed with fresh anger, and he felt his hands clench into fists. It was an effort to stand still, to keep it all in focus, to remember where he was and who he was with, and, yes, that he had to be careful, even now. He spoke slowly. "I was the one who was there," he said. "I was the one given the choice between the millions of our race and the infinite billions of the universe. That was my choice." The Doctor stepped back suddenly. "That was my choice," he whispered, a hand reaching out to grip the stone wall of the balcony. "My choice." He blinked and his legs gave way beneath him, and felt himself slide to the floor. "I killed them. I watched them die. All of them. Burning bright enough to block out the suns."

"You took no pleasure in it." The Master loomed over him, his dark father confessor.

"Satisfaction." The Doctor closed his eyes. "I felt satisfaction. Because it was over. It was finally over. And they're dead. And I'm here. I'm here. And so are you. Why aren't you dead? Why aren't you dead?" His voice lashed out, harsh and accusing. "Why you?" His thoughts crashed over Romana, Susan, Azmael, Drax, even Borusa, gathering fierce momentum. "Why you? All those good people, all dead, why did a sick, twisted creature like you survive? What right have you to be alive?"

The Master accepted the words calmly, his expression unreadable. "Perhaps my…unique perspective on the universe means that I can survive, whatever the circumstances." He laced his fingers behind his back and turned away. "I was far enough away from the epicentre to see the time wave approaching. Your time wave. Oblivion was seconds away. So I took my TARDIS beyond the edge of the universe, right out of time and space, and then I watched you play god."

"As simple as that?"

"Simple?" snarled the Master. "You rewrote existence. You played with the forces of creation. Do not insult me by calling my survival simple. Seconds to calculate the escape route, but with an intellect such as mine…of course, escaping was one thing, returning quite another." He gave a ruthful smile. "Time is vindictive, and even in the TARDIS we were subject to her whims. It simply took a little longer for her to find us. But I defeated her. I knew I could, knew that the universe needed me."

"You telling me this little set-up is supposed to be altruistic?"

"It is my gift."

"Don't make me laugh."

"Everyone here is a survivor, Doctor. Everyone here owes their life to me. Their lives are mine, but they give their loyalty willingly. I saved them, Doctor." He paused. "From you. I'm sure that you will enjoy the irony. I, on the other hand, have enjoyed nothing for a very long time. Survival has occupied my every thought, driven my every action. And now I have saved you too."

"Yeah, right."

The Master raised his eyebrows, surprised. "You don't believe me?"

"I don't trust you."

"You did more than destroy the Time Lords, Doctor. You destroyed everything that they ever created."

"I know what I did. I know the consequences."

"Do you? Our people held absolute power over the cosmos for over ten million years, but even before that they wielded great powers. Powers that they were not afraid to use."

"Or abuse."

"Semantics. They were the first to discover the true secrets of time, the only to truly understand and control it. Oh, I know how refined the Daleks' control became towards the end, but though they may have been able to defeat the Time Lords, they would never leave the same mark upon the universe."

The Doctor frowned. "If you're talking about that junk Rassilon left behind…"

"No, Doctor! I am talking about the forces we unleashed when we first penetrated time. Those raw forces we once worshipped as gods that were kept in check by the designs we forced upon them. Raw, savage, sentient forces."

"You think I believe this? Any of this? Especially the bit about this somehow being for the good of others."

"I doubt you would ever steal files from the Time Lords. No matter how intriguing their reading."

"I didn't need to. I was Lord President of Gallifrey, if you recall."

The Master laughed easily, a rich, genuine sound. "Ah yes, an illustrious regime lasting at least, oh, several days."

"And I don't remember anything like that," said the Doctor, refusing to rise to the bait.

"You don't remember how to construct a demat gun either," said the Master.

"That's different."

"No," insisted the Master. "You had access to that knowledge when you were President, however briefly, but anything that dangerous even the High Council weren't foolish enough to let every doddering old fool who took the Presidency to retain it beyond the tenure of their office."

"But, of course, you managed to find it."

"Doctor, I spent months learning all the secrets of the Matrix, all that dark knowledge that the High Council would prefer to remain obscured in myth. And I know that there is a very fragile frontier protecting us right now: an eggshell, and should someone make an unfortunate misstep…"

"But I already have," said the Doctor quietly.

"Yes, that little incident with Miss Tyler's father was what convinced me to act."

"Why?" asked the Doctor with a shake of his head.

"I told you, Doctor. I need your help. Much as it pains me to admit this, I am only one man, and there is a limit to what I can do. But with your help, and the knowledge that I saved from the Matrix, we can take control of the time vortex. We can be the new universal power."

The Doctor flashed a grin. "For a moment, I really thought you might have changed."

"Well?"

"What's your hurry?" asked the Doctor. "If you're right, there's no-one else who could possibly obtain the sort of control you're talking about for millions of years, and if anyone does mess about too much there's nothing to stop the Vortex from reacting."

"All the safeguards put in place by the Time Lords have gone; even the smallest time experiment could be disastrous on a universal scale."

"How compassionate of you," interjected the Doctor.

"And I wasn't the only one who's attention you've caught. Come with me." The Master turned on his heel and strode inside. After debating a moment whether or not he was petty enough just to stay on the balcony because the Master clearly expected him to actually do as he was told, the Doctor followed him inside.

A circular table dominating the centre of the room now had a holographic display hovering over it. The Doctor recognised the image instantly, the spiral arms unmistakable: Earth's galaxy, and it had once been Gallifrey's galaxy, though at that magnification it looked identical to the galaxy that he remembered.

"Very pretty," he said, pretending not to notice the Master rolling his eyes.

The display changed, and focussed in on one of the spiral arms, then moved out to its limit, and showed a small cluster of stars surrounded by the ominous black of the intergalactic void. It moved across the arm until it reached the furthest star, a dull and dying red giant, with a small planetary system of two worlds, neither looked to be remotely inhabitable.

The Doctor looked through the display to see the Master watching him, his features eerily illuminated by the star systems circling over the table.

"Yeah, alright, it's a lifeless little world at the edge of the galaxy. So what?"

"I was not the only one to survive your carnage," said the Master, moving to stand next to the Doctor. "The inner world of that system is known by the inhabitants as Outpost Shada. It is the last colony of the Time Lords, and that is who I have saved you from.