A/N: Here we go… and yes, if you recognise the word 'Skarian' or think it sounds like another Dr Who related word, then you are very right, probably, with it's associations
A Day Later, Pavar, The Skarian Galaxy, TARDIS
The Doctor sat on the chair by the TARDIS' console and put his head in his hands. Sometimes he got like that. He'd… seen so much in his lifetime. Done so much, lost so much, and yet it felt like everyday he achieved nothing. He would eradicated an evil and then trigger another to follow. And he did it alone. Seven years he'd been alone. Seven, lonely years without anyone by his side. Just like after the time war. Inconsolable. Broken. But alive.
Hell, he was still alive alright. But he didn't have to like it.
Shrugging off the hopelessness, he stood from the chair and stood by the console, lazily flicking a switch. The monitor turned on, the Galifreyan symbols on it whirring and interlocking and changing as the TARDIS scanned for danger or life signs outside. The Doctor always double checked this now, however. He'd lost too much. He didn't own anything, apart from his infamous blue box. And even that wasn't his. He'd stolen it. But now, all these years in the future when his race was dead as dust and there was no one with him to argue differently, it was as good as his.
The reading came up normal. There was life on Pavar, but no traces of potential dangers. The Doctor didn't even really know why he was here. The TARDIS had picked up an interesting news broadcast flare and because he'd had nothing better to do, he'd followed it up. That's what the Doctor did now. There wasn't really anywhere to go for enjoyment, because there was no one to enjoy it with. Danger normally came to him, so there was nothing to chase and life it seemed, had finally slowed down. Nothing happened anymore without him prompting it.
Settling his overcoat on the rail of the TARDIS, The Doctor went out in his pinstriped suit and plimsolls, regardless of the chilly weather. Outside were the sandy dunes that identified Pavar, and on top was the bustling community of metal and steel and fluorescent lights. The sky was midnight black permanently, apart from the gaze of myriads of stars puncturing through its blanket.
Walking across the street, The Doctor stopped in a food restaurant and ordered a Hot Dog. One thing that could always cheer him up was good food. And even if this was mechanically processed meat, it was damn tasty and the Doctor didn't care if it was perhaps the most gross of foods. He preferred earth ones, though. Pavar Hot Dogs just didn't carry the same flavour.
On the steely surface of the bar, the Doctor idly looked up at the hologram that shivered in the corner. It was displaying national news, and most of it went over the Doctor's head. Okay, so he maybe an alien with an intellect far beyond the average beings, but neither did he have the head for politics or economics… and neither did he had the patience.
One thing that did catch his eye, however, was the vibrant red letters that suddenly flashed on the screen, and the scenes of devastation that played out afterwards.
A news reporter stood amidst a field of metal scraps and shell holes, and explosions could be heard in the far off distance. He listened to the commentary tentatively, his danger-sensitive ears taking in everything.
"The conflict between Pavar and Kastal has worsened overnight. There are reports of the situation progressing to outright intergalactic war over who owns the new moon, Livida. Today a procession of humans – thought to be prisoners of the Kastalians - were seen being taken to a location that's whereabouts is unknown. The information given to us about these hostages was incomplete and unclear as it seems the mole was murdered before any details could really be exchanged. There are rescue and search teams being dispatched to offer help to anyone who may be in danger from the Kastalians, who have also been rumoured to have joined up with another species. Instructions are as always: all transport out of Pavar is restricted for your own safety, and stay within your community. Updates will be broadcast to your personal Holo-Holders and you can call our helpline on the code number 666."
"And now I will hand over to…"
The Doctor tapped the humanoid waitress on the shoulder and gave her a winning smile. She had been watching the Hologram intently, a stricken expression on her oddly set face.
"Uh, excuse me. My name's the Doctor. What's all this? Intergalactic war?"
The waitress laughed. "You must be joking, sir!"
"Uh, nope," grinned the Doctor. "So what's it all about? Give me the latest gossip."
The waitress was taken aback, but she didn't get paid much and if she sat down to have a conversation with a charming, nice stranger then she wasn't complaining seeing as she'd always chucked this week's wages down the drain. Any way to grab attention in the bustling community of Pavar was one to be taken.
"So, you wanna know about the war, right? Well, like. It's not a war yet but you kind of get that that's the way it's going. What you saw there was footage from a couple of days ago. Don't tell Esme I told you, but we didn't have enough money to get up to date stuff transmitted here so we just get recordings, and like, all of that stuff. Yeah, so like, there's been more stuff than that. But basically, um, it's like this feud about who owns the new moon, Livida. You, like, can guess that with the Kastalians temper it'd get a bit messy, but yeah, anyways, like with war and stuff everyone started fighting and there's, like, been loads of hostages taken from other planets, and ransom notes, like, charging us to free them. There's loads of footage. I could, like, put it on for you if you like. You'd get the idea."
The Doctor sucked in his breath and smiled. "Ooh, an offer of recorded footage, hostage tapes and ransom notes. How could I resist?"
The waitress giggled and waved a cybernetic arm his way. God, she was tired of this shift. No one would notice her departure. Freya was on her shift anyway. And well, watching TV was better than serving drinks to unsatisfied customers.
"I'll lead the way," she said smugly.
XXXXXXX
Kastal… The Day Before
The cold, emotionless lens of the creature looked deep into Rose's being, right into her soul, it seemed. Her breath caught as she looked at it. It was alone, but it chilled her to the bone. Daleks. She'd seen them so many times before and every time she lost something. Her old Doctor. Her companionship with her very own new Doctor. The happiness the Doctor had had before he'd tried to kill Van Statten's Metaltron. And she could swear she'd seen this one before.
"Rose Tyler," grated the hard voice. "You are known to the Daleks. You are necessary for completion of this mission. You will not be exterminated. You shall comply to the wishes of your captors."
"D-Dalek…" stuttered Rose. "But… you can't… Daleks, they… you only want your own supremacy. What do you mean?"
"It is necessary for an alliance for the Daleks to survive. We shall have supremacy. But we must possess patience. Only then can the extermination of the universe begin. Creating an alliance with the Kastalians is one step to eradication of all life. We shall have our reign."
Rose stuttered something that she herself couldn't even make out as the screen was cancelled. The gravely tones of her captors soon issued from the misted visors, and a screen of some sort was thrust into her lap. Letters of her own language in green were upon its screen. Rose understood completely what they wanted her to do and gulped as she recognised something she'd watched so many times in movies.
She picked the screen up with her manacled hands and read from the panel while another screen came into existence before her, this time tracking her movements; recording them in its database.
"My name is…" Rose gulped again, not being able to help her slight stutter; "Rose T-Tyler, of the Torchwood Institute, Register Number 56709/Apple. I – I am here on behalf of the K-Kataslyan…err, Kastalian… Empire." Rose's hand shook and her voice quivered slightly as a gun nozzle poked more into her flesh. "They wish the people of… Pavar to comply to their… their wishes, as are they stated in the… treaty of peace… or my fellow companions and I will be executed on the morning of the 19th of Gesmin… oh god… and," Rose's voice broke and she hurled the tile across the room. "Whatever the hell they want, don't bloody well give it to them, alright? I don't know who the hell you are but for god's sake; stand up for what you believe in! Don't give 'em anything…"
For a moment the guards did nothing, and then they did. That's all that could be said because they did not move… just suddenly, the gun tips buzzed against her neck and Rose slipped into some kind of unconsciousness, still on camera. She heard faint voices as she drifted off…
"It will be sufficient. The use of visual force on her is evident and the sympathetic Pavarians will be easily susceptible to weakness. They will grant our wishes… eventually."
For what seemed like the second time that day, or week, or year, Rose Tyler slipped into darkness. Only then did the camera wink out.
XXXXX
The Doctor put his feet up on the desk and whizzed around in the chair, quite enjoying himself, really, while his new found friend clattered through old recordings. Or in this case, new ones. It seemed that wherever he went, everyone was getting it wrong. The thing that made the Doctor very interested, however, was the mention of human being on the previous recording. He didn't know why he'd always had a soft spot for them. In one word, they were as stupid as a squashed amoeba. Okay, so maybe that was more than one word. But they certainly did have their brighter points. Sarah Jane, and all those other people he'd befriended. And…
That one he wasn't going to mention. He tried to swallow the hard lump in his throat but found it impossible. The fun suddenly went out of swinging on the office chair and the Doctor's expression changed to complete seriousness so quickly he could almost be mistaken for a different man entirely. He'd had seven years. Hadn't he accomplished anything in them? Seven, and he couldn't even forget a face.
"Everything, like, alright, sir?" Said the mottled, gangly waitress with the cybernetic arm and hip as she came in with what looked like CDs, but were in fact more commonly known as simply, "Holos".
"Fine." Said the Doctor, but didn't move to make a happier face.
"Right," said the waitress, overlooking this completely. "Well, these are like, really new. Only, like, got them today. Haven't even watched them yet. They're over eighteens, right? The Pavarian Broadcasting Centre is showing the hostage tapes to people who wanna, like, see if they can identify any of the hostages. So, I like, take it your over eighteen? Apparently some of these get, like, pretty messy. Mind if I go outside for some of 'em? Can't stand the sight of blood."
"No," said the Doctor dismissively. Ignoring the waitress as she clunked outside, he took a disk and inserted it into a Holo Holder. The following ensued.
A man, or an alien, sat in what might as well have been a heap of carpet. He'd obviously been there for many days. There were no guns visibly pointing at him. Maybe his captors thought him docile and humbled enough. His eyes read off a screen that was settled in his lap.
"The Kastalian army is primed and ready to be deployed. Our Technology is far more progressed than the Pavarians could ever hope to develop. War against us could have only one outcome. Slaughter of your kind and of this feeble human, of which you have strong alliances with. If you wish to prevent this we request you give us what we request in the Peace Treaty. Livida belongs to Kastal. Response is to be sent to us within 2 days, before this human is killed."
The man looked up at the camera and said, so afraid:
"Oh my god. Please help me."
The Doctor switched off the disk. He got the picture. But he went through every disk anyway, and always, there were the same bewildered, scared people. The date at the side of the recording identified exactly how old each Holo was. The Doctor could imagine that that man's help never arrived.
Putting the last Holo in the Holder, the Doctor wasn't sure he could be bothered to look at yet another one. He put his face in his hands and looked to the floor. What was it with the universe? And he wasn't not criticising himself. Who's fault was it anyway? That his people were destroyed? Not just the Daleks. The Time Lord's had caused the war just as much as they. Two races with power, and hell, had they known it. They'd been the extermination of each other, and look where it had got them. A fine example the Time Lords had lead for the people of the universe.
The Doctor left the room, leaving the Holo playing. He shut the door behind him with a sigh and started to walk from the bar. Someone needed saving again. Well, he guessed that was his and the sonic screwdriver's job again…
That's if, he actually had his screwdriver.
Cursing, he dashed into the recording room again to pick up the screwdriver he'd left on the desk, but not before he'd heard a very, very familiar voice. He almost stumbled backwards from the force of it. He looked at the misted recording, clouded with interference. There was the peroxide blonde hair. His heart clenched. No, both hearts clenched. No… this was too cruel…
"My name is…" the blonde girl hesitated, then looked up, and carried on, stuttering all the way; "Rose T-Tyler, of the Torchwood Institute, Register Number 56709/Apple. I – I am here on behalf of the K-Kataslyan…err, Kastalian… Empire." She shifted uncomfortably as a nozzle poked into the side of her neck. "They wish the people of… Pavar to comply to their… their wishes, as are they stated in the… treaty of peace… or my fellow companions and I will be executed on the morning of the 19th of Gesmin… oh god… and," suddenly she threw whatever she was holding across the room and looked directly at the camera. Her voice was shaken by nerves but strong, the Rose he loved. It had to be her. It had to be. No one, not even a parallel Rose could be so alike, so fierce.
"…and… Whatever the hell they want, don't bloody well give it to them, alright? I don't know who the hell you are but for god's sake; stand up for what you believe in! Don't give 'em anything…"
Then for a moment, everything was silent. Then something shook the camera and she suddenly slumped in the chair, unconscious.
The Doctor stood, frozen in the doorway, shaking. Such a long time… too many memories…
But he'd never done what he owed to her. He'd never… could he do that? Could he see her? Break down all the barriers he'd put up? Could he bare to lose her all over again?
Before the Doctor's thoughts even bothered to collect themselves, he was running out of the cheap bar, down the street.
His Rose needed him.
A/N: I said the next chappie would be longer, so sorry it wasn't! Ooh! Excited about this seeing as I have no plan and just write it as it comes. Enjoy? Tell me! Click the magical Review button! Thanks.
Yours,
StrangePrinciples
