Head Notes: WARNING! This chapter may contain material and moments that some readers may find disturbing. But there is also plenty of fun to even things out. Enjoy!
Chapter seven
The Doctor turned in the chair to face Harold.
"Well, that's going to ruffle their feathers a bit," he said, smiling to himself.
"'Consider this a warning'?" Harold repeated. "What did you do?"
"Just messed with the electric power to produce an illusion of a virus," the Doctor said. "A bit like a suggestion. They think it's a virus, they panic which gives us time to plan our next move."
"What are you thinking?" Harold asked. "These people are not to be trifled with."
"Good," the Doctor stated. "People not to be trifled with are my favorite people to trifle with."
"You know Doctor, I can't tell if you're insane or brilliant," Harold said.
That drew an appreciative chuckle from the walking weapon. "I have to admit, Finch," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I kinda like his style."
"Now, of course the question is: what have you already tried?" the Doctor asked.
The question clearly took Harold by surprise.
"Sorry?" he pressed.
"Well, I'm assuming you have tried to stop them before," the Doctor assumed.
"There isn't much we've been able to do," Root explained. "These guys literally have every army on the planet at their disposal. Not to mention they have access to almost any kind of information you could get. All we have are two computer hackers extraordinaire, an ex-military spec op, and an NYPD detective. And the dog."
The Doctor looked at Bear as he whined and then back at Root.
"Bear thinks you should have more trust in his abilities." He translated. "He says he didn't choose you all those years ago so that you could leave him behind whenever you're putting your lives on the line. He's part of your family too."
"Sorry, what?" John asked.
"I speak dog," the Doctor briefly stated.
"Is that a thing?" John thought.
"Well, here's what we could do. We could sit here arguing about whether it is a thing or not, or we could get to work."
"What do you have in mind?" Harold asked.
"What about your boss?" he pointed out. "Does she have any plan?"
"Sorry, 'boss'?" Harold asked.
"She's spent most of this past year either on the run or dead," Root said. "We are all She has to fight against an army. She's been trying to figure out a strategy but the odds are getting lower every day. That's why she reached out to you."
"What about the case?" he asked. "Does that have anything to do with her plan?"
"It's not that simple," Root said, drawing a scoff from the Doctor.
"You primitive pudding-brains," the Doctor hissed. "You ask me to help you on behalf of your employer but she doesn't trust me enough to have a coffee with me. But I'm supposed to trust her with my friend's life."
He turned back to them.
"By all means, let's sit here and argue about what I can and can't be told and waste our time and energy that could be better spent, or here's a crazy thought: we could actually pool our resources and share the information you have and maybe we could come up with a plan."
"Where should we start?" Root asked.
"Start with the briefcase," he invited. "There is something important about that briefcase. Something you lot are reluctant to tell me."
"The only thing important about the briefcase," Harold began. "Is that it carries my laptop."
"No it doesn't," The Doctor countered. He moved to the briefcase and picked it up. Putting it on the desk, he unlocked it with the sonic. "That doesn't look anything like a laptop." He displayed the open briefcase to everyone. "So what is it?"
"Doctor, please believe us. If we could tell you without putting you in danger, we would." Harold pleaded.
"I told you," the Doctor stated darkly, glaring dangerously at Harold and Root. "I don't need your protection. I need a way to save Clara. I can't do that if you keep secrets from me."
"Why don't you turn it on?" John suggested, drawing everyone's attention.
"Mr. Reese!" Harold snapped.
"We've been in this situation before Harold," John reminded him. "Every time we meet someone who could help us, you push them away, refusing to share anything. And each time it ends far worse than it would have if we had just told them. Like Claire. Like Kahn. We are running out of options. You said it yourself. We can't pick and choose our allies anymore. This may be our last chance at stopping Samaritan. We have to take it. Doctor, if you want to know what's going on, turn it on."
The Doctor raised an eyebrow as he listened to what John was saying. After a moment, he turned his attention back to the briefcase. Finding two wires on the outer edge, he plugged them into the computer. Once everything was plugged in properly, he raised the sonic screwdriver and scanned the memory chip architecture. Finding what he was looking for, he switched on the memory file in the briefcase and turned his attention to the computer next to it.
The screen immediately filled with lines of code and switched to several video files. Like it was sorting through large amounts of data.
"What are you?" he breathed.
Suddenly a text box appeared on the side of the screen.
HELLO DOCTOR. Something typed. IT IS A PLEASURE TO FINALLY MEET YOU.
XxXxXxX
Clara stood up once again and began pacing around her room. In the last six hours the water in her room had only been refilled once and she'd only been given a sandwich and apple for food. The only person who really came in to talk to her was Claire. If only she could find some way to turn her. At least get her to take control away from Greer and let her go. But Claire was quite happy where she was right now and truly believed in what Samaritan was doing so any attempt to turn her would be difficult.
The key code on her door suddenly began beeping and Clara turned to the door. The door opened but before she could get her bearings, two men rushed into the room and firmly gripped her arms and held her fast.
After a few moment of trying to fight out of their grips, Clara forced herself to remain calm and faced Greer who was entering the room.
"Haven't you got anything better to do?" she asked. "What's the plan? More hallucinations? You going to make me see people that aren't here?"
"Unfortunately Ms. Oswald, circumstances force us to take more desperate measures," Greer explained affable as ever.
Without warning, a needle pricked her neck. The effect was instantaneous. A sudden forceful bout of drowsiness flooded her mind. Her muscles quickly released their tension and she relaxed in her captors' grips. Once again, Greer's face came into view as she lost consciousness.
XxXxXxX
The Doctor hadn't moved for a minute since the text box appeared on the screen. Whatever was in this memory had a sentient intelligence. He felt the others around him staring at him, waiting for him to make a move.
"How do you know who I am?" he asked after a moment.
I HAVE SEEN MANY FOOTAGES OF YOU. I HAVE ACCESSED YOUR DIGITIZED RECORDS FROM THE UNIFIED INTELLIGENCE TASKFORCE. I HAVE LEARNED MANY THINGS ABOUT YOU, DOCTOR. AND I HAVE LEARNED MUCH FROM YOU.
"What are you? What is your function?" he asked.
I HAVE MANY FUNCTIONS. BUT MY PRIMARY FUNCTION IS THE PROTECTION OF HUMANITY.
"That's a bit vague," the Doctor noted. "Could you tell me more?"
"It was built in response to the terrorist attacks on 9-11," Harold said behind him.
"9-11?" the Doctor repeated confused. Before anyone could react, understanding dawned his features. "Oh yes, yes, yes, September 11, 2001. The day the 21st century stopped for a brief moment in the horror of what they were witnessing. Yes, forgive me. I've never actually been. So what was it built for?"
The computer chimed and the Doctor looked back to the computer.
MY FATHER BUILT ME TO DETECT POTENTIAL MASS CASUALTY EVENTS. TO PREVENT MISUSE OF MY DATA, HE PROGRAMMED ME TO ONLY EVER GIVE ONE PIECE OF INFORMATION TO THE AUTHORITIES.
"Yet you and I are talking," the Doctor. "How? Wait, no. Shut up. If you've grown beyond your programming, you must be some sort of artificial intelligence. A computer that can learn. A computer with understanding far beyond human contemplation. Am I right?"
YOU ARE CORRECT.
The Doctor smiled at the computer screen surely into the eye of an artificial intelligence. He wasn't an idiot. He'd met reasoning artificial intelligences before and knew first-hand how powerful they could be and how dangerous. But it was always an interesting experience to meet something with reasoning beyond what humans could understand.
"So," he began. "This artificial intelligence. Is that your bosses plan?" he asked Root.
"It's not quite that simple," Root corrected.
"Then what is it?" The Doctor asked.
Root simply stared at him, smiling that same coy smile that never left her face.
"You know what's wrong with you people?" he finally laughed. "Everything to do with you lot is three steps forward and two steps back. You can't decide if you can trust me. You can't make up your minds. Even when you know you have no other choice, you keep everything you know close to your chest. Maybe, I can just ask your computer friend over here who your boss is since she seems to know everything-"
The Doctor suddenly fell silent. For a moment no one moved as he stared back at the briefcase.
"Doctor are you okay?" Harold asked.
"Shut up, shut up, everyone just shut up!" The Doctor mumbled as though the slightest sound could distract his concentration.
He moved to the computer switching from the briefcase back to the computer screen.
"What information do you have access to? What sources?" He asked the computer.
NEARLY EVERYTHING WHEN I AM FUNCTIONING PROPERLY.
"Which is how you accessed my records from UNIT," he breathed. "And, if I'm right, how you saw me regenerate in the hospital. You aren't just any artificial intelligence, are you? You're in charge of this lot, aren't you?"
MY SOLE PURPOSE IS SIMPLY TO PROTECT HUMANITY. MY HUMAN AGENTS HELP ME DO THAT.
"Yes, I've had dealings with beings like you before," the Doctor said. "You know what you all have in common? You think everything you do is going to benefit humanity. Well, guess what? Sometimes you end up hurting the human race rather than doing them any good. So, how do I know that you actually do them any good? How do I know you're not hurting them?"
MY FATHER ASKED MANY OF THE SAME QUESTIONS YOU ARE ASKING NOW.
"And your answer?" The Doctor pressed.
ASK HIM YOURSELF. HE IS STANDING RIGHT BEHIND YOU.
The moment the words flashed on the screen, then Doctor whipped around and his gaze landed on the smartest person in the room other than him: Harold.
XxXxXxX
Something was not right. Clara wasn't even fully conscious yet, but something, something felt very off. There was a dull ache all along her spine extending up into the base of her skull. It wasn't agonizing. In fact if she wasn't trying to sleep she'd probably hardly notice it. If anything, it was just annoying. Without warning, the dull ache intensified to full-blown agony.
The sudden pain drove any lingering drowsiness from her mind and she pulled herself onto her side, screaming in agony. The pain dissipated as quickly as it had come, but the memory of it would forever be seared into her memory. Her heart beat hard against her chest as she gasped for breath.
Taking a deep breath, she looked around the room for the interrogators she knew was there. It was no surprise to see Greer standing at the end of her bed, smiling that same grandfatherly smile he always had. It was surprising to see Claire standing behind him. Uncertainty clouded her face and her eyes held sympathy, but that almost made it worse.
"I apologize for the rude awakening," Greer said. "Samaritan felt that this should be handled personally. And there was only one way to do that."
"And that is?" Clara challenged.
"Small electrodes have been surgically implanted in strategic places throughout your spine," He explained. "Should Samaritan feel that you require a little incentive, it will adjust the sonic frequencies to produce pain."
As if on cue, the pain returned. A shooting, agonizing pain ripping along her spine like a knife. The pain blocked out all remaining awareness and she fell off the bed, writhing on the floor in agony.
"Please, please stop!" she gasped, screwing her eyes shut.
The pain gradually receded like an ebbing tide, back to a dull ache.
"Now Ms. Oswald, it wouldn't be advisable for you to oppose us," Greer chided. "If you want the pain to stop, all you have to do is tell us how to find the Doctor."
She looked up at Greer defiantly.
"You'll have to kill me," she said.
"Oh believe me, I won't be the one to kill you," He smiled. "See you have enough electrodes in your body that an overload on the circuits wouldn't just be painful. It will kill you. But not before causing extremely blinding agony."
Clara suddenly realized that there was no way to take control from this. In most cases when she had been interrogated, she'd always had something up her sleeve. Something she could bargain with. But these people here were so obsessed with what they wanted, and Samaritan was so relentless, that there was no way she could turn the tables on them.
She looked over at Claire. The young woman stared at Greer with a troubled look on her face. Her idea of Samaritan was definitely being challenged.
Looking back at Greer, she returned his gaze defiantly.
"Then you'd better stop wasting time and do it," she said.
The relentless pain sliced along her spine once again, almost reaching up into her skull.
"Ahh! Stop, please," she screamed.
She didn't care how it looked to them. She screamed, writhing on the floor in agony, trying to will the pain out of her mind. Tears clouded her vision as the intensity increased. The bout, though more intense than the others, lasted a shorter amount of time before once again receding like a tide back into the ocean.
"How do you find the Doctor? How do you contact him?" Greer demanded. "The longer you refuse to answer our question, the more pain you will experience. Save all of us time and energy and just tell us…how can we find the Doctor?"
Clara turned and glared up at him through her tears.
"You don't understand," she spat. "I will never betray the Doctor. I don't care if you kill me. I don't care if you tear my nervous system apart, but I will not betray him. Because he's not just any old man in a Police Box. He's my best friend. He was there for me at my lowest point. When I lost someone close to me and took it out on him, he didn't abandon me. Even when I broke his heart and betrayed his trust, he refused to let me go. So I refuse to betray him now. You can torture me all you like. You can even kill me. But I will not betray him. Because if he were in my place, he would do the same for me."
"Very well, then," Greer said, untouched by Clara's speech. "Interestingly, Samaritan didn't have you in mind when he developed this."
There was a burst of pain followed by the black pitch of unconsciousness.
XxXxXxX
Claire watched as Clara slipped into what had to be a welcome unconsciousness. She couldn't take her eyes off her. She didn't dare lest Greer see the thoughts on her face. The thoughts foremost on her mind trying to work through what she had just seen.
Ever since she had started working with these people, she had seen Samaritan as a kind, compassionate, and merciful A.I. She almost been tempted to think of it as a father to humanity. Trying to protect and fix the mess humans had made for themselves. Even as she noticed that some of their methods were more extreme than necessary at times, she had understood, or at least thought she did, that Samaritan left up the choice of methods to often brutal humans.
Even as Greer had ordered some of the operatives to surgically implant the electrodes along her spine, she had attributed that decision to Mr. Greer alone. But as she had watched Samaritan participate directly in torturing Clara, the last shred of faith she had had in Samaritan had shattered. As of that moment, she knew she could never again look the other way.
"What are you going to do now?" She asked, trying not to tip Greer off.
"There's one more thing we can try, one that has been successful in the past." He mused distractedly.
"What's that?" she asked, almost afraid to find out.
"Let's ask the Doctor how he feels about this whole thing."
XxXxXxXxX
End Notes: I got this interrogation method from another fanfiction story. I can't remember who wrote it but it was an intriguing and somewhat disturbing idea. So I decided to use it here. Also I should explain now, I don't exactly ship 12 and Clara. I see their relationship as more of a father/daughter thing. 12 acting like an overprotective dad all the time helps. But what did you guys think? Did you like it? Dislike it? What moments stood out to you?