Enemy of the State

Through the endless maze of twisting hallways, the Doctor was marched to the heart of the Citadel. The guards led him to a shadowy, circular room. A marble armchair sat at its centre. "No, that's all right, I prefer to stand," said the Doctor as the guards pushed him down into it. The moment he sat, the marble became liquid, oozing around the Doctor's arms, legs, and body. Moments later, it solidified again, holding him in a rigid embrace.

A brilliant shaft of light appeared just above the chair, illuminating and nearly blinding the Doctor. Squinting, he could barely make out the figures of three Time Lords seated at the perimeter of the room. One of them was the rat-faced man, who stepped forward and cleared his throat; the Doctor couldn't see his face clearly, but was convinced the man was positively twitching with excitement.

"Doctor," his voice echoed, in that bizarre, unearthly sound that circular rooms make, "you are charged with high treason. You have broken the first oath of Rassilon. On Skaro, you revealed the secrets of Graviton theory to the Kaleds, thus giving them the ability to generate energy from black holes and also travel through time. Thus, you are hereby sentenced to--"

"Wait a moment, wait a moment!" the Doctor protested. "I think we've missed a step somewhere. What is it? Let me think, hang on a minute..." He furrowed his brow and made a show of concentrating. "Aha, I know! A trial! You can't go straight to sentencing without a trial--although you are to be commended for your enthusiasm, Chancellor Nequamlupus. I plead not guilty. I look forward to submitting my defence."

"You are a traitor, a renegade, and an enemy of Gallifrey, Doctor," spat Nequamlupus. "As such, you have no right to a trial. Your sentence is this: you shall be cryogenically frozen and perpetually detained on Shada."

"Shada," breathed the Doctor. "No! It was supposed to be dismantled, the prisoners to get new trials. Romana--"

"Is no longer Lady President. And Chronotis won't be President either, not for very much longer. Their reforms proved...unpopular." Nequamlupus smiled unpleasantly. "Romana, at least, has seen reason. The people do not want us to be soft on crime. They need law and order; I mean to give it to them. Court dismissed."

The marble chair began to wobble; and then, with a sudden lurch, dropped. Down it descended, forty stories in all, until it jerked to a halt. Then it turned liquid again. It melted away from the Doctor and dissolved into the wall, leaving him sprawled on the floor.

Immediately, two guards seized him by the elbows and dragged him to his feet. They searched him, and confiscated his sonic screwdriver, setting it on a small table; then they flipped a switch and left.

Disorientated, the Doctor took a moment to get his bearings. He was standing in a small, windowless white room with a single doorway. He tried to reach through it for his screwdriver--and was immediately flung backwards by a force field. This, he realised with some chagrin, was a prison cell--the same cell, in fact, that the Master had occupied not so long ago.

The Doctor sat on the cell's lone bench. This was all too familiar. Imprisoned--again--by his own people. No matter. There was a way out of any cage; he had only to find it. He steepled his fingers, staring at his sonic screwdriver. He had telepathic abilities, not strong at a distance, but they were there; and also, on rare occasions, he was able to tap into telekinetic powers. He tried to concentrate; but his thoughts kept returning to Rose.

What was she doing? He had told her to go after Jack principally to keep her from attempting anything foolish on his behalf. Perhaps he should have just told her to wait in the TARDIS for him. She'd eventually decide he wasn't coming back, and use the emergency return switch to get home.

Would the Time Lords associate her with his actions? Surely they wouldn't imprison a human? No, likely just wipe her memories and send her home. He sighed. Perhaps that would be a kindness. He's seen how she pined for "her" Doctor; and, more recently, the way she had been looking at him. Everything was so much less complicated when his incarnations appeared physically older. If he followed his better judgment, he really ought to...

"On the other hand," he said aloud, "why break the habits of a lifetime?" He glanced at the blue orb affixed to the wall of his cell. What would the watchers think of that?

He directed his attention back to the sonic screwdriver. He had built it, he was connected to it, often he felt it was a part of himself. He focussed his mind upon it. It twitched.

The Doctor closed his eyes, concentrating harder, picturing the screwdriver clearly in his mind. Then he opened his eyes again, slowly. The screwdriver was hovering about an inch over the table. He turned it in the direction of the force field switch--

The sound of footsteps in the hallway broke his concentration. The screwdriver fell. It bounced off the table, hit the marble floor and shattered. He winced.

"Doctor." He looked up. Councillor Romana was standing before him, flanked by her guard. She was holding an ancient book.

"Romana!" He sprang to his feet and opened his arms wide, as if to embrace her. "There you are! I knew you'd come, of course. What took you so long?" Somewhat to his surprise, Romana did not answer. She stared at him stony-faced. She was teasing him, surely, he thought. He pouted at her. "Did you leave me here to wait on purpose? I've been so desperately bored. Come on, let me out." He stepped forward, hitting the force field, which crackled to life and flung him backwards, harder than before. It took him several seconds to recover.

Clearly, she was going to make him really work for this. All right--he'd certainly teased her enough in their time together. He pressed his hands together in mock supplication, "Oh, please, please, please, please Romana, drop the force field, there's a good girl." He smiled at her (he thought) rakishly, and gazed deeply into her eyes. "Romana, my dear old friend, I know you're having a bit of fun, but we really don't have time for this. Surely you're not still in a strop about that time...you know, the time that I...that we..." He trailed off. She hadn't smirked or scowled or laughed or responded to him in any way. Something definitely wasn't right. He blinked at her in confusion. "Romana?"

Romana's eyes flicked to the blue orb. Her expression was grim. She drew herself up. "I am here to take you to Shada. The prison ship is waiting."

He stared at her, speechless for a moment. Then he laughed, or tried to. "Ah, that's a good one, Romana, very funny, very clever. But I know my Romana. As if you'd ever...I mean, as if you would--you would?"

She didn't reply. She stared past him.

"No. No, Romana...I can't believe it. Is this...is this about...politics? Your career? Is that what you care about now? How could you? How could you do this to me, to your old friend, after everything we've--"

"You are an enemy of the state. I hope you will come quietly."

Romana released the force field. Her guard moved forward, and jerked the Doctor from his cell. He didn't resist. As he was led away, he murmured softly to her, "Et tu, Brute?"