Chapter 2
Ace and Nita entered the Doctor's bedroom. A silent beat as they looked over the room. The spoons on a shelf. The covered easel.
"I can't believe he's gone," said Nita, a tear running down her cheek. She had already spent the morning weeping, with Ace comforting her.
"I always thought he'd outlive us – by centuries."
Nita and Ace were uncomfortable with the task they must perform. They moved to the easel and Nita uncovered the Doctor's last painting…
"He'd been working on this for months… never felt it was quite finished…" Nita's voice trembled.
"You know what a critic the Professor was… especially about his own work." Ace stepped up to the desk, opened the top drawer. Everything was neatly arranged: an old leather-bound 500 year diary, a pack of playing cards, a set of poker chips, a chess set, a photograph of the Doctor's grand-daughter, Susan. Ace took out the pack of cards and poker chips.
"I would like to keep those."
Ace smiled, recollecting. "The Professor always fell for your bluffs…" Ace took out the photo of Susan. She sat and looked at it silently, then put it down on the desk… shook her head, and said, softly- "I keep going over and over the accident in my mind. Trying to figure out what went wrong. I can see him in the shuttle… almost like I'm sitting next to him… going through the departure sequence… What the hell happened? Why didn't I see it coming? Did I miss something…?"
In Fajo's den, the Doctor was examining Fajo's collection, looking for something which might be of us to him. The door opened. The Doctor whirled, braced himself – this may be a chance to escape. Varria entered. She was wearing the same proximity filed device on her belt that she and Fajo wore earlier.
The Doctor realized it was futile to make a break for it. Varria closed the door behind her. She was carrying a set of clothes for the Doctor.
"Kivas wishes you to wear this set of clothes. And sit in your chair."
"I have no reason to accede to Mister Fajo's wishes."
"He will give you reasons if you force him to."
"He is deluding himself if he believes he can keep me here. My friends are certain to find me."
"They're not even looking for you… they believe you're dead. Your shuttle blew up… a hytritium explosion."
"They will scan the debris and discover I was not aboard…"
"They'll find exactly what they expect to find: traces of your DNA. We placed them aboard the shuttle in just the right proportions."
The Doctor studied her. "Plainly Mister Fajo has no moral difficulties with my imprisonment here."
"'Mister Fajo' has no moral difficulties. At all." And it was said with the barest trace of her own personal regret…
"Do you?"
"Clever, time lord… You seek out vulnerabilities in your enemies."
"Yes. Are you my enemy?"
And his simple, straightforward attitude kind of threw her off balance. "I obey Fajo. And so does everyone on this ship."
"Why?"
"You are a curious person, aren't you…?"
"Do you object to the question?"
"Kivas found a way to get what he wants from his people. His rewards for loyalty are lavish. His punishments for disloyalty are equally lavish. You won't find anyone here who'll help you escape." She shook her head. "Face it, time lord. He has you."
"It appears he has us both."
That hit Varria close to home. She cooly pushed the clothes into the Doctor's arms and left.
Ace was alone studying a monitor… she was tired, her back hurt, she'd been working for a long time… she stood, stretched… "TARDIS, did the containment power supply or the backups fail prior to the explosion?"
A message popped up on the screen: "Telemetry indicates no interruption in containment field power supply. Backup safety field and reserve power was available up until the instant of explosion."
"Analyse telemetry from gravity generator, impulse vents, fuel cells, inertial dampers, and related subsytems."
"All readings negative."
"What about external factors? Local stellar phenomena?"
"Negative. Interstellar radiation and EM spikes all within normal tolerances."
"Was the shuttle close enough to the TARDIS to have been affected by our time fields?"
"Negative. Time systems were operating at twelve percent idle, insufficient to disrupt containment fields."
Ace frowned… she dropped her head in frustration, then picked it up again… "Return file to start… Let's go through it all again…" And she resumed her position at the monitor as the screen returned to the start of the file…
Nita was listening to Ace…
"The reason I can't find anything is there's nothing there to find. I've run the analysis a dozen times over… there's no indication of a malfunction…"
"No possible explanation at all…?"
"Well, yeah, there's one, but I don't believe it. Pilot error."
Nita sighed. "I know it's hard to accept, but even the best…"
Ace interrupted Nita in mid-sentence, which she would never normally do – an indication of how tired she was, how consumed she was, how frustrated she was. "Nita, it's not hard to accept… with the Professor, it's almost impossible. I can't even begin to calculate the odds. If the Professor were here, we could ask him…"
"What are you suggesting, Ace?"
"I don't really know, Nita. It just doesn't make sense. I like things to make sense… that's all." Ace stopped, and frowned.
"Ace, if you got a little rest, came at it with a fresh mind…"
"A little rest isn't going to change the computer analysis, Nita."
"I'm sure you've done a complete investigation. If you wish to continue it, you have my support of course. But we'll be reaching the Beta Agni system shortly. You should be rested."
"I understand, Nita."
"Talk to you later."
Ace began to leave… as the door slid open, Nita had a second thought – "Ace… I understand how much we want… even need to explain an accident like this. Sometimes there just aren't any explanations."
Ace acknowledged and left.
Nita looked down, picked up the leather-bound book Ace found in the Doctor's room… and felt her grief begin to overwhelm her again. She opened the book, closed it and said softly to herself… "One line of Shakespeare that provides the perfect epitaph to the Doctor."
Fajo entered his den and looked to his collection: the Doctor was studying one of the artworks. He was wearing his own clothes; the clothes Varria provided were still folded upon the display chair, untouched. Fajo moved to him. "You're still wearing your own clothes. Why?"
"I am an individual."
"You're not an individual anymore. It's time you adjusted your mind to accept reality."
"Even if I chose to do so, it is doubtful whether my mind could be sufficiently altered to accede to your wishes."
"Oh?"
"I have developed a fundamental respect for life in all its forms… and a strong inhibition against causing harm to living beings."
"A pacifist. Tell me – whose dreadful decision was it to employ you in UNIT?"
"It was ultimately my own decision. My skills seemed appropriate…"
"My dear Doctor, it was a mistake. A grievous error. You no more belong in UNIT than I belong in a verbal contract. Have you killed yet, Doctor?"
"No, but I have the ability to use deadly force in a cause of defence."
"Shame on you. Shame on you. How neatly you rationalize your capabilities. How can you casually accept your role in murder?"
"I would not participate in murder. Perhaps you misunderstand…"
"Can't you see how much better it will be for you here… the intellectual rewards, our own personal exploration of the galaxy… I am at war with no one… I have liberated you."
"You are a fine debater, sir. It is a shame you have used your verbal gifts for mere hucksterism and the advancement of your own greed."
Fajo smiled. "You're going to be more of a challenge than I thought. Put on the new clothes and sit in your chair."
"I must decline."
Fajo shook his head, and moved to a replicator unit on the wall. As he pushed a panel… "Finoplak. One hundred denkirs."
The replicator produced a container of clear liquid. He took it out and moved to the Doctor… "Here's something for your mind to analyze." And Fajo dashed the contents of the container onto the Doctor's chest. Where the liquid touched it, the Doctor's clothing started to dissolve. The Doctor was surprised – what was the point of that?
"Don't worry – the solvent won't damage your skin. But in minutes it will completely dissolve your clothing." He shrugged. "I'd be delighted to have you go naked… I assume you have no vanity. But I would guess that decency is the rule of your Time Lord training." Fajo indicated the clothes on the display chair. "So, decide which alternative you dislike the least." He moved toward the door… paused, looked back… "Decide by dinnertime tonight. I have invited a guest to meet you. I expect you to be as entertaining with him as you have been with me."
Fajo casually left. The Doctor looked at his chest – his question mark jumper was now a sticky mess and getting worse by the second…
