Author's Note: Sorry for the major delay in getting this chapter up. As usually, life has gotten in the way of art. But the good thing is that this is now up for your enjoyment! I also did some grammatical and other minor corrections to the first three chapters. I hope to have another chapter up soon, as long as life doesn't get in the way again.
Anyway... enjoy! And don't forget to review!
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PHOENIX RISING
Chapter 4
Far above the surface of Teranova, an enormous spaceship glided across the sky – a constant reminder to the inhabitants below that they were subjects of a powerful and dangerous race of humanoids. Contrary to their violent nature, the Lensiati were a physically beautiful people with muscular bodies that resembled ancient Grecian statues, with dark skin, long auburn hair and jet black eyes. They kept their hair out of their eyes with intricate braiding which told a story about their achievements. As a Lensiati warrior rose in the ranks, their hair would grow longer and the braiding would become more intricate. The longer and more intricately a warrior's hair was, the closer he came to becoming a member of the Emperor's Royal Guard. His Greatness the Emperor Perihn had the longest hair with the most intricate braiding and required several slaves to tend to it.
Grand Commandant Heton was well on his way to becoming a part of the Royal Guard, if his hair was any indication. He leaned back in his chair with a smile as he looked at the view screen before him. Some of his fellow commandants might think that he had procured a backward and uncontrollable planet, primitive to the point of being completely worthless. But Heton didn't feel that was the case, especially as he watched the interior sport of day taking place six sections over and three levels down from his office. Certainly the exterior sport wasn't as physically challenging as on other worlds. But what the Teranovians lacked in brawn, they certainly made up for in brain. Sometimes it took a good four days to catch them and drag them back to the Pasinia, Heton's battleship, for interior sport. Watching the pitiful creatures begging for their lives through hours of pain during the lengthy sport was far more entertaining, in his opinion, than quicker sports some other commandants preferred. Plus, his conquests usually brought the most slaves and sport fodder back to the royal courts, thus the reasons for the intricate braid that ran down past the small of his back.
An agonized scream came from the view screen, causing Heton to laugh with amusement before he turned to the reports that sat waiting on his desk. Being ruler over an entire world, no matter how pleasurable, still had its responsibilities, such as reading daily reports from the governors in each town on the planet below. Dry reading, for the most part. But if Heton didn't demand daily reports from his hand-selected governors, there was a chance that they might think themselves better than their Lensiati masters. And that was something that no decent Lensiati commandant could allow, much less one with Heton's record.
Leaning back in his chair, he flipped through the reports with only a passing interest. A young male Teranovian in the Dumifre Township had been found guilty of traitorous dissent and, as punishment, was exiled into the swamplands that surrounded his village. There was also a report from the Pandere Nisse Township of a pregnant female being found guilty of the same crime and exiled, along with her accomplice, to the wilderness some seven hundred plankarts from the village. In both cases, a death squad was instant dispatched with the intent of hunting the traitors and bringing them up for sport for tomorrow, if possible. Interestingly, the young male had already been captured but the pregnant woman and her accomplice had not, despite the woman coming near to term.
Tossing the reports onto a separate pile on his desk, he slowly stood and walked over to a table that held several intricately designed glasses and a large equally intricate opaque glass bottle filled with liquid. He poured a sizeable portion of the liquid into one of the glasses and took a drink, closing his eyes slightly at the sensation of the alcoholic beverage sliding down his throat. Even as he did so, however, his peace was interrupted by a chime that filled the room.
He sighed in slight frustration as he turned towards the door. "Enter," he commanded.
The door to the office opened, allowing a thin pale human female to hurry in and kneel just to the right of the entrance, her head bowed and her eyes on the floor. Heton looked at the slave for a moment, hiding the pleasure he gained from seeing her waiting obediently to be allowed to speak.
"What is it?" he demanded at last, causing the woman to shake slightly in fear.
"Governor Hillis of Pandere Nisse requests an audience with you, Grand Commandant," she replied, not daring to raise her eyes.
Heton sighed again. "Very well," he agreed. "Send him in."
The slave touched her forehead to the floor before rising to obey the order, grateful that her master was in a pleasant mood this day, pleasant enough at least not to punish her for interrupting his work. A minute later, she returned with Governor Hillis in tow and then left again.
The Grand Commandant turned towards the new arrival with a slight smile. "Hillis, my friend. Pleasure to see you, as always. Drink?"
"No, thank you, Grand Commandant," Hillis replied, knowing that Heton's seeming friendliness was just another way of him reinforcing who was in charge. To actually accept the offer of the drink would have been an insult to the Lensiati. After all, Hillis was only a mere Teranovian.
Heton poured himself another drink and took a gulp before speaking again. "So… what brings you to me?"
"I know you are busy, Grand Commandant. But, have you had a chance to read the report that I have written?" Hillis questioned.
"The one about the pregnant woman and her accomplice?" the Lensiati questioned. "I have. You were wise to exile her. Can't have any sedition in our territories. It's impressive to me, Hillis, that this woman was to have been your betrothed. Shows ruthlessness on your part. Quite an admirable trait for a Teranovian. It will get you far in our plans."
"Thank you," the Governor replied. "But I do not crave recognition, only to be of service. That being the case, I have come across a most interesting development concerning my former betrothed and her accomplice. He had a peculiar blue box, which we found in the temple."
Heton sighed at what he heard. "I am not interested in trinkets, Hillis. Destroy the thing."
"I am aware of that, Grand Commandant. And I have tried to do exactly that."
The Lensiati frowned at his words. "What do you mean, 'tried'?"
"The box cannot be destroyed. It looks and feels like wood and yet it does not burn. It seems to be impervious to any and all of our tools and weapons. What is more, there seems to be an odd, faint vibration coming from the box." Seeing the expression on the commandant's face, he hid a self-satisfied smile. "Given how unusual this box is, I thought you might want to examine it yourself."
Heton seemed to consider Hillis' words for a long moment, though it was obvious from the look in his eyes what his answer was going to be. Taking a silent but deep breath, he questioned, "Where is this blue box?"
"I have already had it brought aboard," the Governor told him. "In anticipation of your decision. If you would prefer not to examine it, I can quite easily return to the surface of Teranova and bury it in one of the abandoned mines."
"That will not be necessary. Show me this box belonging to your ex-betrothed's accomplice," the Commandant ordered.
With a bow, Hillis escorted Heton to the object in question, which was sitting in one of the storage bays on the ship. Even from a distance, the Lensiati could feel the energy coming from the box. The shape of the object itself was vaguely familiar as well, like a story heard many times but no one knows from where the story originated. The words "Police Public Call Box" shined at the top of it, again tickling at Heton's subconscious.
He hadn't realized he was staring at it until Hillis' voice pressed into his ears, calling his rank.
"Who had this again?" he questioned.
"The accomplice to Nariam of Pandere Nisse, Commandant."
"Did he give his name?"
"No, Commandant," Hillis told him. "But he called himself a doctor."
Heton stiffened at his words. "The Doctor?" he questioned tightly.
"That is what he said, Commandant."
For a long moment, neither Heton nor Hillis took their eyes off of the object before them. Then, suddenly, Heton started to chuckle.
"Oh, this is quite marvelous!" he exclaimed. "Hillis, my friend, you have made your name in Lensiati society with this… beautiful gift." Seeing the look of confusion on Hillis' face, Heton clarified. "You have provided me with a means to avenge my people for a grievance centuries old against the owner of this particular treasure."
"This box? We can't even open it. How do you know it is a treasure?"
"Oh, but it isn't just a box. This… is the ship of a Time Lord, one in particular."
"Time Lord?" Hillis questioned.
"A Sasane," the Lensiati told him. He smiled at the stunned expression on the Teranovian. "That's right, my friend. You have captured the palace of one of your gods. And I will use it to draw him in and destroy him."
The Governor stared at him for a long moment, shocked by the sudden change in events. "But… you said the Sasane don't exist."
"Not anymore they do not. The Doctor is the last of his kind, the only Time Lord in existence. The species might as well be extinct. And they will be extinct after I am through with him."
"But if he's a Sasane…" Hillis started.
Heton turned to him with a glare. "What is the matter, Hillis? Afraid of retribution from your gods? They're all dead, all but him."
Hillis didn't reply, swallowing nervously at this new development.
The Commandant gave him a smile. "Don't worry about the Time Lord, Hillis. Just worry about keeping your people in line, no matter what." He paused for a long moment, letting his words seep into the Teranovian's mind. "You're dismissed."
Hillis gave a hesitant bow before slowly leaving the room. Knowing that the mysterious blue box belonged to a Sasane and that he had personally exiled said Sasane was causing him to question the wisdom of surrendering the box to Commandant Heton. More to the point, the current situation was making Hillis uncertain about the whole alliance he had made with the Lensiati. He shook his hesitance away. He knew he had done the right thing in allying himself with the Lensiati. It was far better to be a leader than to be a slave. And the Lensiati had made him a leader amongst his people. He certainly wasn't going to jinx his position with anything that remotely might cast him in a negative light with them, especially not some foolish superstition about ancient gods.
Commandant Heton walked around his new prize, stroking it slightly in appreciation. The Doctor on Teranova. It was almost a godsend and it was one that he wasn't going to let slip through his fingers. Snapping the forementioned appendages, he summoned his second-in-command, who was waiting by the cargo hold door.
"Hunt down the Time Lord and bring him to me alive," he ordered.
The Second Commander saluted his commandant briskly before hurrying off to obey.
Heton stopped his attentions to the TARDIS, taking a step back to admire the time ship in his possession. "Soon, Doctor, the Lensiati people will be avenged and you will beg for death."
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Nariam and the Doctor had walked for several miles, resting whenever Nariam felt too fatigued, before they decided to stop for a meal. The Doctor led the pregnant woman close to the edge of a forest, sitting her on a smooth rock before pulling out the drenza fruit. He used his sonic screwdriver to weaken the husk of the fruit enough for him to break it into two halves.
Nariam's wonder and confusion upon seeing the Doctor's actions vied for dominance on her face. She slowly accepted her half of the fruit, though her eyes were focused on the device in the Time Lord's hand as he put it carefully away.
"A magic silver sound stick," she surmised with an awed whisper.
The Doctor raised his eyebrows at her words. "A sonic screwdriver. Just a tool. Nothing magical about it."
"You didn't cast a spell on the fruit, allowing you to break it open with your bare hands?"
He looked at her with gentle rebuke. "Nariam, you are an intelligent woman. You didn't really believe that, did you?"
She hesitated for a moment. "Not really. But I can find no other explanation at the moment. The Sasani are known to have great and mysterious powers. And one cannot break open the drenza as you just did." She dug into the thick fruit with her thumb to pull out a piece. "If it isn't magic, how does your sonic screwdriver work?" She chewed slowly on the freed section of fruit as the Doctor followed her lead.
"Everything is susceptible to a certain sound frequency. Like… like when dogs start to bark for no apparent reason. They hear at a higher sound frequency than the human ear. If you find the right frequency, you can actually use sound to manipulate things, which is what I did with the fruit. I weakened the husk at its seams."
"Sure would be great to use in the kitchen or in building houses," she commented. "Imagine the time and effort we could save with your silver wand."
The Gallifreyan smiled at her words for a moment before becoming somber. "Imagine the harm it would cause if it got into the wrong hands."
She thought about his words for a moment. "Which is why you do not share it with others. My people are too young to appreciate and treat such a wondrous thing the way it should be treated."
"And you, Nariam, are a very wise woman for one so young," he told her, a glint in his eyes.
The two were quiet for a moment as they ate.
"By the way," the Doctor put in abruptly. "Do you have a surname?"
She blinked at him for a moment. "A what?"
"A surname," he repeated. "A name to identify your family line. Most humans that I know have one. I was just curious if you had one yourself. You know… like my friend Jack's surname is Harkness so you'd call him Jack Harkness." He blinked for a moment. "Though I seriously doubt that that is the name he was given at birth. Oh! Like Martha! Everyone in her family has the surname Jones. You know… Martha Jones, her sister Latisha Jones, her mother Francine Jones…" Seeing that she didn't understand what he was talking about, he clarified. "Say someone named Nariam came into your village. How would someone distinguish which Nariam they were talking about?"
She slowly smiled with realization. "I see. In that case, one would call me Nariam, daughter of Faram. That was my father's name."
"Ah," he replied, understanding. "So, your child, when he is born would be..."
She shook her head slightly. "I have not decided on a name for my child. It is our custom to decide on a name only after the child is born."
"Because of low birthrate, I suppose," the Time Lord murmured. He watched her nod sadly at his words. "Still… say the child is born and it's a girl. She would be referred to as daughter of…" he encouraged her to finish his sentence for him.
"Wesin," Nariam told him. "My late husband."
"Not daughter of Nariam," he clarified.
She seemed stunned at the idea. "Inheritance comes from the father," she told him bluntly, as if it were an obvious custom. "Another reason I refused to marry Hillis. I do not wish my children to bear his name as their father." She watched him for a moment. "Do you have a surname, Doctor?"
He seemed surprised by the question. "Me?" He shook his head. "No."
"No means of identifying your family line?" she queried.
He just shook his head again, sadness in his eyes.
Nariam slowly stood from her perch and lowered herself onto the ground so that she could be eye to eye with the Time Lord. "You have no family," she concluded from the expression on his face. "At least, not any more."
He raised his eyes to her. "What makes you say that?"
"I know a damaged soul when I see one," she replied. "And you did not have that expression on your face before I mentioned your family line. So, you must have lost your family. No friends?"
"None like me," he answered quietly. "They're gone. All of them."
A moment of silence passed between the two of them while Nariam translated his words and expressions into a logical conclusion. "All of the Sasani are gone except for you?" She watched the Doctor swallow tightly at her words. "I'm so sorry."
She received no answer as the Doctor handed his half of the fruit to her.
"Eat," he instructed her. "You need as much nourishment as possible for you and your child." Standing, he walked a short distance from her and cast his eyes out into the vast prairie they had just left as if on sentry watch.
She watched him for a moment before obeying his entreat. She had to admit that she was famished, having not had anything to eat since midday meal the day before. She ate the whole fruit and even treated herself to a piece of bread that was amongst the provisions left for them. She knew the Doctor wouldn't eat even if she asked him to, not with his mind on a past that so blatantly haunted him.
She hadn't even realized she had fallen asleep until she felt something shaking her shoulder. Her eyes snapped open and she was about to cry out when a firm hand covered her mouth. Her eyes found the Doctor's as he slowly removed his hand, a stern look on his face as he put a finger on her lips and then helped her to her feet.
Without saying a word, he grabbed the quiver of supplies and put it over his shoulder before guiding her into the forest at a hurried pace. Stopping for a moment, he looked around, nodding, and then led her in a different direction, coming up to a small heavily wooded area that resembled some animal's nest.
"Hide in here," he ordered in a whisper. "Don't make a sound."
She regarded him with frightened eyes. "Lensiati?" she returned the whisper. Gaining a nod in response, she took a shaky breath. "What are you going to do?"
He carefully put the supply quiver into the nest beside her. "They're after me, not you. You stay here and keep out of sight. If I'm not back for you in five hours, go further into the forest. I found signs of refugees being further in. Find them and let them take care of you. Do you understand?"
"What do you mean if you're not back for me? Why are they after you?" she protested, her voice rising slightly.
The Doctor shushed her quickly. "Just do as I say. Stay out of sight." Without further explanation, he hurried off into the forest, leaving Nariam to huddle into the nest and cover herself so she wouldn't be seen.
She waited in the near darkness, listening to the sounds of the forest turn slowly into the grunts and yells of Lensiati warriors on the hunt. She'd never been witness to Lensiati hunts but she had heard enough horror stories that her fear for the Doctor's safety increased twenty-fold.
She didn't know how much time had passed before a cry of pain filled the air. Nariam's heart tightened with the realization that it was the Doctor's voice. Despite his instructions, she struggled out of the nest, determined to find him and help him. As she got to her feet, she looked up and screamed.
She was surrounded by Lensiati warriors, the Doctor's limp form being held up between two of them.
