It was a rude awakening.

A sudden buck that seemed to vibrate throughout the Tardis threw the Doctor from both his chair and his sleep, and he emerged through what felt like a minor tectonic shift on his knees, having slipped over the harsh, rough floor on them. However, he didn't remain there very long, and had soon scrambled to his feet, finding it need enough to ignore the persistent stinging from the badly scraped skin over his patellas.

The quakes continued, thrashing over each other as waves on a beach, and the Doctor found himself gripping the edge of the control unit to keep upright. Whatever tendrils of sleep had been clinging to his mind were now wrenched away, and he found himself anxiously scanning the Tardis console, eyes flashing from one flashing button to the next.

As impossible as it sounded, as impossible as it seemed, the only conclusion the Doctor could draw was that everything – every control and instrument in sight – was malfunctioning at once. The time/flight stabilizer, the navigational control, the time sensor... even the lights!

Bracing himself against the spasming shockwaves, he struggled around to the power response dials, flicking each of them to 'off', something which should have cut off every unnecessary function.

No such luck.

It was as though everything had been overridden, the remote had been taken from his hands and he now had no way of controlling it. And yet it was still moving, it was still ripping through the fabric of time and space, tearing the fabric and splitting the seams. So if he wasn't controlling it...

...Somebody else was.

Open horror at the realization crawled over his features, and that would be the last thought through his conscious mind - that sickening thought that somebody else had power over his ship – as the next shockwave to hit him would buckle his knees, and he would be sent slamming to the floor, forehead cracking against the control unit as he fell.

Insentience was instant.

-+-

"He has the same hair..."

Slender, feminine fingers were poised close to the screen and, slowly, a set of intricately painted fingernails came to rest on the flickering glass, almost caressing the image there.

"Your excellency?"

Quite aside from the gentle mumble of the first voice, a rougher, unrefined voice entered the sound track, and the male from which it stemmed inched closer to this 'excellency', squinting at the screen.

"He has the same hair, Jeracij, as when I knew him."

Jeracij's features rearranged themselves into the picture of shock. So the legends were true... the excellency had known this renegade Time Lord. She had traveled with him, sailed through the galaxy, even regenerated in his presence... the ancient rumors were true!

A punishable thought skipped quickly along the Councilor's mind, and he hastily shot a few side glances, as if he had thought it too loud, and somebody was liable to hear. Of course, no such thing would ever happen, as mind reading devices of such high perception were strictly banned in the excellency's private quarters.

But... oh, could it also be true that she had once had romantic attachments with this renegade?

Just being in possession of that knowledge would make the Junior Councilor one of the most sought-after beings in the entire galaxy. Yet if he asked, it was very probable he would never see the light of day again.

"Regeneration, madam, is a--"

"I knew perfectly well what regeneration is like, thank you Jeracij." Her excellency snapped, and the male seemed to shrink down inside his clothes.

"He took a fall..." She continued, turning back to the screen. "If there is a single scratch on his body, I am holding you personally responsible. Do you understand me?"

"Y-yes, your excellency." He stuttered, making a low bow before hastily retreating out of the room, knowing he was lucky to have all limbs still attached to his body.

With her eyes focused intently on the pictures, the Lady President let a sigh pass her lips.