bChapter 28
Lima, Peru
June 2009
"Saxon is the Master," the Doctor announced bluntly to Alistair, who was partaking of the Scottish biscuit-like bread. The Gallifreyan picked up one and took a bite. "Love bannocks."
"Bloody hell!" Alistair answered, after nearly choking on the bread he'd been eating. "I knew something was up with that organization. What are you going to do about it?"
"Well... that answers one question right off. He hasn't influenced you yet. Good to know. We're going to go and stop him before he gets the chance to completely take over the world through his Pi network."
The Brigadier nodded. "The Pi network, is it? Saxon's been promising a panacea of wondrous things with it."
After cleaning up the dishes, Doris moved over to her husband, putting her hand on his shoulder. "Are you talking about Harold Saxon of the Prometheus Institute?" She smiled. "He's a good man."
The Doctor sighed upon hearing her words. "Oh, not you too, Doris."
Doris frowned at his words. "What do you mean by that, Doctor?"
Sam gave a weak smile. "Um, nothing, Doris. Saxon is a good man." He turned to Alistair. "Keep away from any communications and media sources." He then looked at the Time Lord. "Time to march into hell for a heavenly cause, Doctor."
"So, we're Quixote and Sancho, are we?"
"Looks like we need to be."
"Well, then..." the Doctor stated as he stood from the table. "Let's go chase a few windmills, shall we? But first..." He turned to Alistair, lowering his voice so that Doris, who had returned to cleaning up from breakfast, was out of hearing range. "We need to get you and Doris out of here and go somewhere safe. Somewhere with no connection with the outside world. No phone, no internet, no television. Nothing. If what I've seen is correct, then the Master is all ready affecting people, including Doris. Go pack your belongings and meet me at the TARDIS in fifteen minutes. Oh, and it's very likely that you're going to have to force Doris to cooperate. She probably won't want to come." Facing Sam, he instructed, "Tell Glad that we'll be leaving soon so she needs to hurry with her toilette. The sooner we can find and stop the Master and your Mr. Lothos, the better. Wouldn't you agree?"
Just as the Doctor finished giving his instructions, Glad came into the kitchen, her hair up in a loose bun, showing her elfin features.
"Now I know who she reminds me of," Alistair commented. "Wasn't there a woman who looked similar to her that time when we were on your home planet?" he questioned, referring to the events in which the Doctor and four of his previous incarnations, along with some of his companions, had been pulled to Gallifrey.
"Yes," the Doctor replied. "My granddaughter. She resembles Susan. Purely coincidental. I'm surprised you didn't notice before." He turned towards Glad with a smile. "Had breakfast?"
"Yeah. I had some of the bannocks. Reminded me of the ones my father used to make for us at home. I liked the fruit spread. I never had mangos before."
"Aren't they brilliant?" the alien agreed with a wide grin. "Anyway... we have to go."
Glad sighed. "Again? We just got here."
He took her by the shoulders. "Yes, I know. But there's this man... a very bad man... and we have to stop him."
The girl put her hand on her hip. "We seem to do things like that a lot."
The Gallifreyan grinned widely at her words. "Well... it's more fun that way, isn't it?"
Over the next thirty minutes, the group pulled things together, making sure that the Brigadier and Doris were fully packed and situated and that the villa was shut up for its extended vacancy. Despite Alistair's protests, the Doctor forbade either of them from having any contact with the outside, UNIT HQ Lima in particular, as the personnel there was likely affected by the Master's Pi network. Alistair told him he would only leave an encrypted file on his computer in case someone who wasn't affected needed some answers. While the Doctor was otherwise involved in directing the departure, the Brigadier attached the file to an email and sent it knowing that, if anyone on Earth could address this situation, the man he sent it to could. Finally set, he allowed the Doctor to escort Doris and him into the TARDIS.
"Where are we going, Alistair?" Doris demanded. "Why all the hurry?"
The Brigadier smiled at his wife. "The Doctor's going to help us, dear. He doesn't want anything more to happen, what with the kidnapping and such."
"And how is leaving our villa going to help us?" she retaliated. "I felt perfectly safe in our home."
"You weren't, though," the Doctor told her as he closed the door behind them and headed for the console, sending the TARDIS into the vortex. "But you will be just as soon as I can find somewhere for you to hide for a while."
"Hide? From whom? Those horrid men are dead," Doris pressed.
The Time Lord looked into her eyes. "From Harold Saxon."
The elder woman's eyes burned. "You're going to regret saying that, Doctor. As soon as we land, I'll thank you to leave Alistair and I alone. I can't abide such deviousness."
"Dear..." Alistair started, the concern for his wife evident in his eyes.
"Oh, I seriously doubt that's going to happen, Doris. In fact, you'll probably give me a hug," the alien told her. His focus returned to the console. "So... where would you like to go? Victorian England? Hawaii in the 1990s?"
"I want to go home, Doctor," Doris stated emphatically.
"What do you think, Alistair?" the Time Lord questioned, ignoring her insistent words. "Mini-holiday on a tropical beach? Or perhaps Venice? I could take you to stay at Leo's place. I'm sure he'd hold you up for a few days. And Florence is such a lovely city, especially at that time."
"Leo?" the Brigadier questioned.
"Leonardo da Vinci," came the response, the tone as if it were an obvious answer.
"Da Vinci? You could do that?" Alistair questioned with awe. Then pulling himself back to his more typical demeanor, he finished, "Of course you can. That would be acceptable."
The Gallifreyan grinned broadly. "Right, then. Florence, 1509. That way I don't accidentally run into myself. That really wouldn't be good." He immediately set the coordinates, causing the ship to jolt ever so slightly at the course correction. "Now, before we land in... oh... twenty minutes..." He looked over at Doris. "Do you mind if I have a private talk with you?"
"I'm not really sure I wish to have anything to do with you, Doctor, now that you've shown your true colors."
"It's only for a few minutes," he assured. "I promise. I won't say anything negative about Harold Saxon while we talk."
"Well..." she started.
Alistair, knowing that the Doctor had nothing but the best of intentions concerning his wife, touched her shoulder. "Doris, you've known the Doctor for a long time. Perhaps you should at least listen to what he has to say."
"But he doesn't even like Harold Saxon, dear. The man is nearly a... a... saint. How can you ask me to listen to anyone that doesn't see that?"
"A difference of opinion is no reason not to listen to someone," her husband told her. Seeing her uncertainty, he verbally nudged her. "Do it for me, then. It wouldn't hurt to discuss the matter, would it?"
Doris looked at her husband, the stubbornness in her eyes fading as she listened to her spouse of many years. "For you, Alistair. I'll do it for you," she said with a sharp nod.
"Thank you," the Time Lord stated, extending his hand for her to take. When she didn't receive it, he slowly lowered it. "Come with me, please. I figure the library is much more comfortable to chat in." He proceeded towards said room, knowing that Doris would follow with Alistair's coaxing. He was grateful that the TARDIS rearranged her corridors so that the room in question was just inside the interior doors. Walking in, he found a seat on a couch and waited for his friend to do the same.
Doris sat across from the Doctor, her jaw set. "What do you want?"
"Just to talk, that's all," the Gallifreyan said gently. "Tell me about Harold Saxon. You want me to like him? Convince me."
"There's nothing that's needed to be said. Saxon is a good man. It's obvious to anyone who listens to him. His contributions to humanity are absolutely awesome."
"Really? May I see?" he asked, raising his hands towards her head.
"What are you doing, Doctor?" she questioned, suspiciously.
The alien sighed, a sad look on his face. "Oh, Doris... I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry. I wouldn't do this unless it was absolutely necessary." Before she could react, he quickly pressed his hands to the side of her face and concentrated, forcing himself into her mind.
Doris pulled back from him as her hands reached to his forearms, trying to push him away. "Stop! You're hurting me! Alistair! Alistair! Help me!" she called out to her mate.
Even as the elderly woman struggled to get away from the Doctor, he persisted in his actions, wishing that he didn't have to do what he was doing to his friend. Finding the necessary impulses in her mind, he squelched them quickly even as his hearts tightened with sorrow and guilt. The moment he broke the connection in Doris' mind with the Master's influential satellite network, the woman went physically ridged, shaking slightly. Apologizing once again for his actions, the Time Lord released his hold on her, causing her to fall backwards. Quickly halting her drop, he then gently lowered her into a prone position and stood. It was only then that he realized that he had tears on his cheeks. Wiping them quickly away, he looked at his immobile friend. "You'll forget Harold Saxon, Doris. You won't even remember hearing about him. In the meantime, rest." Reaching over, he pulled a blanket from the floor and laid it over her before slowly leaving the library and returning to the console room.
Alistair turned to the door as the Doctor walked in. He seemed confused as to why his wife wasn't returning with the Time Lord. "Where is Doris? I'm sure she shouldn't be left alone in the TARDIS. She won't understand its... um... principals."
The Gallifreyan rubbed his face with one hand, still emotionally affected by his own actions. It was forbidden for a Time Lord to pry into another being's mind without permission. To do so was a violation of immense proportions. And yet, that was exactly what he had just done to the wife of his best friend of all time. Well, one of them at any rate. He just couldn't look at Alistair, not with the knowledge of his crime. However, he knew he had acted for Doris' benefit. It made her better. Still... wasn't there an Earth saying about how the ends do not justify the means? Finding a coral strut, he slumped against it, avoiding the Brigadier's gaze. "She'll be fine," he finally said, his voice low. "She's resting."
"What did you say to her? Were you able to convince her that Harold Saxon is not what she thinks he is?" It was obvious that he was worried about his wife. He looked in the direction from which the Doctor had come. "Perhaps I should go to her."
A sniff came from the Time Lord before he nodded slightly. "But let her sleep. She needs it," he instructed the retired military man, his eyes focused on the metal grating beneath his feet.
"It must have been an intense conversation to tire her like that... but you haven't been away that long." The visually older man's eyes took on a slightly fearful caste. "Perhaps she's ill. Lord knows she's been under stress. Although from what Benton told me, she remained a rock as usual. It wouldn't be outside of possibility that the whole situation has finally affected her."
"Yeah," the alien whispered, the word sounding more like something to say than an actual reply to Alistair's words.
"I'm sure she's fine, Alistair," Sam opinioned. "You know the Doctor. He always has other's best interest at heart. If she were ill, he would have let you know that. I would imagine, learning your idol has feet of clay, even when that's a good thing, is likely to be somewhat upsetting. That's likely why she's tired. Rest will do her good."
"Still, I should check on her," the Brigadier stated with conviction. "Where is this library you took her to?"
The Doctor gestured haphazardly towards the interior door. "Through there, first door on the left."
"Can I come too?" Glad, who had been quiet through the exchange, spoke up. "I want to check on Mrs. Doris as well.
The concerned husband, giving Glad a gentle smile, nodded and left the room, both of them ready to provide any assistance that might be required.
Once they had gone, Sam looked at the Doctor, whose demeanor hadn't changed. "You did something you're not proud of," the physicist hazarded.
The Time Lord finally raised his eyes, anger blazing in them but directed at himself. "I raped her," he stated bluntly.
"What? I believe you may have done something you deem to be wrong but I don't believe for a moment that rape would be the right word," Sam replied to the shocking statement.
"Oh, rape is the only word for what I did," came the answer through gritted teeth. "You don't force yourself into someone's mind without their permission and call it something else."
"Mental rape," the leaper clarified. "I suppose that makes sense from a telepathic point of view. Why did you take that step, Doctor?" He knew that the man in front of him would not engage in such a violent measure if he didn't have a good reason and the leaper assumed this had to do with the mind control that Saxon wielded over others. Still he needed to hear what his friend understood of his actions.
The Doctor swallowed slightly, not responding for a long moment. "I've dealt with the Master before. I could tell Doris was in a strong hypnotic state and convincing her verbally wasn't going to work. I had to sever the connection permanently. She didn't want me to."
"Then you did this mental adjustment to heal her," he interpreted.
"'Adjustment?!'" the Time Lord exclaimed. "Is that what you call it when someone's been violated? An 'adjustment?!'"
"If Doris had a broken leg and you had to set it without anything but brute force, would you do that?"
"It's not the same, Samuel, and you know it! Brute force to set a leg at least would still be voluntarily accepted even if it was excruciating. Doris did not consent to me forcing myself into her mind. And don't try to get all Sigmund Freud on me. I met the man and already know everything you are going to say. It doesn't change what I did."
"What if Doris had been a child? Unable to give her consent? Excruciating pain is something a child would shy away from."
"But she isn't a child."
Sam let out a sigh. "In comparison to you, Doctor, the entire human race is in our childhood. That, I believe, is why you care so much what happens to us. Your paternal streak comes out, not unlike what happens with Glad." He paused for a moment. "You did what you had to do to help your patient, whether it was by consent or not. If you hadn't, and Glad's nightmare comes to pass, she would have been one of this Master's enslaved minions. What would that have meant to her, to Alistair?"
"Samuel..." the Doctor groaned, tilting his head back in frustration. "So, the ends justify the means. Doesn't mean that the guilt just goes away because someone says you did the right thing. You just don't seem to understand that. And I really wish you would stop... prattling on about something you really don't completely understand."
"I understand the guilt doesn't go away. Since I began leaping, I've had to do things that go against everything I believed was right and good because to do otherwise would have been even more horrific. And sometimes I've even done things that could only be classified as selfish. In both cases, the guilt is there and it doesn't go away. I also know that when I do something for the right reason, then it's something I can accept as a crucial decision. I'm sure that if you had to do this to Doris, it wasn't for selfish reasons."
The Gallifreyan gave him a hard look. "I was wrong. You aren't impersonating Freud. You're impersonating Francis of Assisi. Don't you ever take a hint? I don't need a psychiatrist and certainly don't need a priest. What I do need, right now, is for you to be quiet. Can you do that?" The sarcasm in his tone was practically dripping.
Sam got up. "Okay, Doctor. I've said my peace."
"Finally!"
"You know, for someone that cares so much for others, you sure have a hard time with allowing the reverse."
"Self-defense mechanism," he replied automatically. "Comes with the job. People start getting attached to me, they usually get hurt."
"Yes. I suppose it does come with the job," Sam answered. "Still, from what I've seen of your current and former companions, not one would have given up the experience for all the treasures of the universe." Rubbing his eyes slightly, the leaper finished. "I think, if we're going to take on Lothos and this Master..."
"The Master," the Doctor corrected. "That's his name. Just like mine is the Doctor."
"Really? The Master?" Sam asked. He frowned slightly. "Bit of a narcissist, is he?" Gaining a small smile from the Time Lord, he returned it, glad to see the alien relaxing, if even a little bit. "Anyway, I'd better rest up myself. I'm still healing from the rescue."
"You do that," came the answer. As the leaper headed for the door, the Gallifreyan stopped him verbally. "And Sam? Thanks for caring, even if it was a bit... verbose."
"I guess I tend to absorb certain traits from those around me during a leap," he said with a fully honest expression on his face. "I'll see you in a little while."
The Doctor gave a knowing smile at the leaper's words, realizing that they were a sideways tease towards his own overly-active gob. "Pleasant dreams," he murmured back as Sam left the console room. Taking a slow breath, he pushed himself away from the coral strut that had been supporting him and walked over to the console. Then, with careful attention, he reset the coordinates, sending the TARDIS in a different direction. Now that Doris was free of the Master's influence, he needed to find a safe haven for his friends and, despite what he had suggested before, da Vinci's abode just wouldn't do, especially if the Master were to get his hands on the TARDIS somehow. No, someplace and sometime much different than anything he'd suggested, just in case the connection had been much stronger than he anticipated and the Master was aware of his suggestions. With the time ship well on its way to its destination, the Time Lord sat on the Captain's chair and waited, once again coping with doing the wrong thing for the right reasons.
DWQLTWDWQLTW
Des Moines, Iowa
April 2, 2010
When Paul had cryptically indicated he was going to bring "the Beast" around, Jack had pictured some monstrosity... like a souped-up tractor or some such thing. However, his lips curled in a happy grin when he saw the shiny black fully loaded Hummer H2 Sut swing around from the back. "Nice wheels," the 51st century man commented as Paul got out of the vehicle.
"Thanks," Paul responded as he strode over to help carry the supplies to the SUV. "Eats up gas but you can't beat it for durability. Figured if I'm going to get an SUV, might as well get one that'll go through anything. Besides, it's great for going fishing." He took a breath as he loaded the supplies into the back seat. "Probably should bring along a few gallons of gas while we're at it... just in case."
"Good idea." Jack noted Sam's aura walking out of the small store. "Rose, how about getting a few gas cans out of there? We're going to fill up some to take with us."
Rose looked at the vehicle and sighed. "Okay, I like the looks but... Jack says we have to get to New Mexico as quick as we can. I have the feeling we're going to be stopping every few miles with that thing just to fill up. We should really find something that has some fuel economy."
"This boy can go 600 miles without refueling," Paul informed her, clearly offended by her assumptions.
"Really?" Jack said, his grin growing bigger. "You do the modifications yourself?"
"Added a whole extra gas tank under the topper. Sure, it doesn't have much storage space now but it's not like I really need all that much. Just a little room for any catches I make. 'Course the extra weight cuts the fuel economy a bit but as long as we've got a couple of extra gallons for back-up, shouldn't be too much of a problem."
Grace made her appearance as their new companion was explaining his additions to the truck. "Fantastic but are you men going to stand around talking cars all day? We need to get a good lead in case your creative use of the good people of Cedar Rapids doesn't provide as much cover as we hope it did. I know the Colonel and, considering what you did to his plane, he's likely to hang you upside down by your pinky toes and beat you silly."
"I just have one question... will he keep me dressed?" Jack quipped back at her.
Paul blinked at the statement by the other man, utter confusion on his face.
"Don't mind him," Grace informed their new friend. "He's different than the rest of humanity but he's mostly harmless."
"Ain't that the truth," Rose answered as she brought the two five gallon gas cans back to the truck. "I think that's it. Let's go."
"Harmless? I'm harmless?" Jack questioned.
"All aboard, then," Paul informed them, ignoring Jack this time and climbing into the driver's seat before starting the Beast, the roar of the engine drowning out the last of Jack's words.
"Mostly harmless," Grace shouted back as she climbed into the SUV, Rose following suit on the opposite side.
"Oh, gee, thanks for the ego boost," Jack said, getting into the passenger seat.
"Like your ego really needs any boosting," Rose pointed out.
"Are you sure these two are your friends?" Paul queried to Jack as he shifted the vehicle into gear and moved it onto the road.
"Oh, yeah. Best pals a guy could ever have and nice to look at to boot."
The gas station owner gave him an odd look at his statement. "You're not..." He tilted his right hand from side to side to indicate his thoughts.
"Let's just say that I have standards. They're broad, but I have to draw the line somewhere."
"Yeah, like no barnyard animals," Grace commented in a low tone.
"And there is that consenting adult clause," Rose added.
Paul shook his head. "I'm sorry I asked."
Grace smiled. "Like I said. He's mostly harmless."
"Isn't that from the 'Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy?'" Rose questioned.
"Perfect description for you three. You're all just as weird as anything Douglas Adams could come up with. Pretty soon you're going to tell me that some guy in his pajamas saved the world," Paul commented.
"Well... it does happen," the ex-time agent pointed out.
"Actually, they weren't his. They were Howard's," the leapee informed.
"Who's Howard?" Jack questioned.
"My mum's boyfriend at the time," Rose said somewhat wistfully. "I miss Mum. I wish I had my phone. Maybe I could ring her up... That is, if it works with long distance calls to parallel universes."
"Which wouldn't be a good idea considering what we are up against. The last thing you need is to be on a mobile or any other phone for that matter," the immortal man stated firmly. Seeing Paul reach for the radio, he stopped him physically. "And no radio. No forms of electronic communication whatsoever. Not unless you like being subtly influenced by that madman I was talking about."
"That Saxon guy," Paul translated.
"Exactly."
"Right."
"If we can't listen to the radio or use anything electronic, what do we do on this road trip to aleve boredom?" Rose wondered.
"I can think of a few things..." Jack started again.
"That doesn't involve the removal of clothing," she added quickly.
Jack looked crestfallen as Paul spoke up. "I've got a pretty eclectic collection of music behind the back seat in that plastic tub. Some pretty good movies too." When Jack shifted his gaze to the gas station owner, he shrugged. "Like I said. Fishing."
Grace was already draped over the backseat, her derriere in the up position. "He's right. Jazz, Rock and Roll, Country...but no opera, darn it."
"Poor Grace," Jack teased. "Denied her tenors. Any Cole Porter?"
She went through the tub a little. "Oh, you're just lucky." She pulled herself upright, several CD's in her hands. "Here you are. 'Anything Goes... The Songs of Cole Porter.'"
The head of Torchwood laughed with delight, taking the CD from her and putting it into the player. A moment later, the title track filled the vehicle, prompting Jack to start singing along.
Paul laughed as he pointed the Hummer ever closer to their destination. "Perfect theme song for this trip, that's for sure."
