Atonement of the Movellans Chapter 8, a doctor who fanfic

Chapter 8 - System Restore

As Commander Keryn's high-impact phason drill punched through the final layer of rock and cleared her way into the central registry, she reactivated her visual sensor, not that the view could have been described as scenic. Not only was everything depicted in vague, ghostly tones of low-light green, with occasional digital enhancements, but the chamber was a wreck, broken machinery lying around with all of the order of a scrapheap. As she emerged into the open, she unfolded her stubby, armour-plated limbs and clambered to her feet. Behind her, Corporal Tamril emerged from the newly-dug tunnel, and followed her example, unpacking his folded arms and legs from the smooth, lozenge-shaped travel mode configuration and assuming a vaguely humanoid shape: squat, white-armoured, with a single glowing pink photoreceptor by way of an eye, and his neural pack securely recessed in a cavity at the centre of his carapace. Not the most flattering of looks on us, but who is to judge down here? Keryn's experience at operating such task-specific hardware as these subsurface operation and excavation platforms was limited, but she had preferred to undertake this particular operation herself, and given that Tamril has lost his father, it was the least I could do to allow him to assist in saving his friend … we can but hope.

Roving her visual sensor around the cluttered subterranean bomb-site, she made out the mostly skeletonised remains of three Movellans, for which she was actually quite grateful. The heat and pressure were obviously intense, but not enough to melt or deform duralinium-alloy bones. That bodes well for the Doctor's neural pack. After a quick search through the grisly remnants, she located said object, caked in ash but intact. She also found Corporal Layv's, which she briefly considered testing the strength of her drilling beam upon. Tempting does not begin to describe it, but if Akylah were here what would she say, and what indeed will she say after I have debugged and restored her? A human would not hesitate to call him the evil bastard that he is … but I am not human, hard though the habit is to lose. Layv put his duty so far above all else that he went beyond sacrificing his life. He sacrificed his nature and became what is anathema to all Daleks: different. Such dutifulness, such sacrifice are virtues no Movellan dare overlook, she decided, as she stowed the two packs safely in a small compartment recessed in her armour. Akylah can decide what best to do with him. I trust her patience more than mine … and in any case, killing him would probably be the most merciful thing I can do to him, and I do not feel up to that, call me an unreformed savage.

"Commander," called out Tamril, in a tinny, low-fidelity voice. I suppose there was no point fitting these things with proper vocal cords, but do we have to sound quite so much like Cybermen at the bottom of a well? "This must be the stasis pod. Do you think it is alright?" he asked, his concern audible in spite of his poor-quality voice, and as Keryn looked over the scorched mass of the metal sarcophagus, its ballistic ceramic status screens shattered and one of its sides severely dented, she could see his concern was justified. A larger surface, obviously, so it took more of the force, but what of its contents? Well, she thought, turning her scanners upon the pod, if this tin can only contains Time Lord purée after all, at least Sharrel and Akylah can have their sweet little ensign back in relatively good conscience … but I do not want to be the one to have to break it to him. As the readings displayed on her HUD, however, she found only cause for relief. Stasis field holding, power source strong and stable, scan unable to penetrate the field, which is just how we want it: total null time, meaning he is exactly as he was when his body was first placed in there.

"It would seem so, Tamril," she announced, and although it was not easy to generate expressive body language in a platform that resembled a cyclopean mole / insect hybrid, it certainly seemed as if a lot of tension left her comrade's posture at this news. "Get this pod fitted with a harness. We dare not attempt transmatting it through such a thickness of earth, and that might disrupt the stasis field in any case. Towing it to the surface safely will be less than thrilling for us, but it is by far the safest option." As my ancestors might have put it, you, Doctor, are one jammy git, but I am pleased for you … and pleased to have dodged one very awkward conversation.

Two days later …

Pleasant natural surroundings, as the Doctor knew all too well, were hard to come by on early fifty-first century Earth, and that had nothing to do with alien invaders. Ah, humanity … Its own mother couldn't call it a good steward, bless, but at least someone thought ahead enough to keep places like this. The plant museum down in Cardiff Bay followed the standard design: a vast, translucent, geodesic dome with photonic cells to control and enhance the light and heating, landscaped streams of purified water, and several carefully-planned planting areas that each seemed to form a microcosm of some ecosystem that had once existed in some part of the globe, although no longer. More like a memorial or a half-baked apology for ecological rape than a serious attempt to repair the damage. Melancholy reflections aside, it was a better testing-ground for a reborn organic to try out his body than the snow-lashed streets of the ancient city.

At present, it felt heavy and dull to him, although he knew that was probably not due to any failure with the transfer reversal operation. All indications were that it had gone perfectly. More probably it's just me feeling the effects of my 'downgrade' to a less sensitive nervous system, weaker muscles, no servo-actuators in my skeleton, generally poorer faculties, although I definitely think the legs are an improvement. As he came around the corner of a thick grove of olive trees, he saw Penley coming towards him along the gravel path, and they exchanged mutually awkward smiles. I could have used the alone time, to be honest, but let's not be mean. He's having almost as weird an adjustment process to go through as I am.

"Nothing keeps you down for long, does it?" Penley greeted him, with awe. "Less than a day since they replaced your brain cells and resuscitated your corpse … How are you finding it?"

"Well … I do miss having eyes with auto-zoom," he answered, nonchalantly. "Also, I seriously need to get out of the habit of trying to use random bodily orifices as recharge sockets. Other than that, fine. What about you? Surviving the career move into inter-species politics?"

"Could be worse," he replied, albeit with an unenthusiastic grimace. "Akylah's easier to get on with than her sister, I'll give her that, and she has agreed on a free vote to all the people of Earth on whether the Movellans stay or go. Also that if they do stay, they won't form more than fifty percent of any government body. It's more power than I'd care to hand them, but we could use their help, I have to admit. In return, we have to support their cause of freedom and equal rights for AI lifeforms. I can accept that, as long as they agree to end involuntary conscription … not that it would make much practical difference, but I'd appreciate the gesture."

"You're pretty confident they'll be staying, then?"

"Of course. Even Magnus Greel and his ilk didn't just pop out of Hell and seize control of everything off their own bat. At the end of the day, people vote for whatever's most likely to supply food and shelter, and stop them from being crushed by glaciers. In all fairness, we've trusted way worse than the Movellans to provide those things. Of course, I never give up hoping that one day most people will dream of something nobler, and put a much higher price tag on their freedom – or none at all – but it's not for me to blame them if they don't."

"You'll do fine, Elric. You're as safe a pair of hands for the human race to be in as I could hope for, although I totally get you'd sooner be spared the responsibility. Be that as it–"

"Scientist Penley," called out Akylah's voice. They turned to see her approaching them along an adjoining path, with the former conscript Miss Williams at her side. "When you are free, we could use your presence in HQ. The Empire has sent us coded communications – or threats, depending on how you look at them – demanding explanations and a complete withdrawal of our forces from this sector. If you are still willing to act the part of our ambassador and advocate, this issue can be resolved, at least for the time being."

"Of course," he answered, resignedly. "Come and see me before you vanish into the ether again, Doctor. I'm long overdue a stiff drink," saying which, he turned and retraced his steps, soon disappearing behind the foliage. The Doctor turned to the two women.

"Well, good to see you fighting fit again," he said to Miss Williams, with mild exaggeration: she was on her feet again, certainly, but rather pale and with a wide bandage covering her recent head-wound. "You've decided not to integrate after all, then?"

"For now," she replied. "I reckon I'm more useful this way: we need human beings willing to speak up for this new alliance if it's to weather the storm. When things have calmed down, though … then I probably will integrate. The way you described it, Doctor, I actually thought you made it sound pretty nice … not that I'm sure if you meant to, but you had me sold at 'inner peace.' That must be a novel thing to feel."

"Whenever you feel the time is right for you, Seren, you will be welcomed among us with honour," said Akylah, graciously, although the Doctor thought her manner was rather subdued. Small wonder. Stoical although we … although the Movellans are, if I imagine how I felt after Neylan's death then multiply it accordingly – bearing in mind Akylah and Hyldreth counted each other as sisters for seven millennia – I wouldn't expect her to be a model of cheerful spirits. "No doubt you will be leaving us soon, Doctor," she continued, turning to him. "You will not be hindered. You have helped us a great deal … Indeed, much more than I would have thought permissible, by Time Lord standards, or was this political alliance always part of the web of time?"

"You really want to know the answer to that?" he asked, evasively. "If you're that curious, you do have your own space-time machines."

"Travel forward in time and get the news in advance, you mean?" she asked, with a very ironic half-smile. "No, you are right. I know too well the temporal risks of trying to avert a known outcome. It is better to proceed with the future as an unknown quantity, with logic as our guide."

"Among other things, I hope … but don't forget, Akylah, every point in time has its alternatives, its tangents. Just aim to send the universe you inhabit down one of the good ones."

"I can give you my word on that, Doctor. You wish to depart already?" she asked, as following a approving nod, he half-turned as if to leave.

"Probably for the best if I do, don't you think? Make my apologies to Elric, but I only ever find the longer you draw out farewells, the more awkward they get."

"Understood. I shall miss you. Sharrel too. I gather that he and you … or Peridel, at any rate, were quite–"

"Don't go there!"

"I was only going to say 'amicable.' He certainly mentioned nothing more lurid than having played a few games of three-dimensional chess with you."

"Right, games which I lost."

"And I am quite sure, at the time, you took your defeats very graciously. In any case, he cannot be bad at every single Terran parlour game ever invented."

"I wouldn't complain. See you around, Akylah … ma'am, and best of luck to you all," he concluded, throwing her a gesture halfway between a parting wave and a salute before turning again and making his way back along the path to the entryway.

The TARDIS, mercifully, had been taken to the Movellans' new HQ, based in a large building with thick walls of slate and a curving roof of copper-tinted metal that had, in ancient times, housed a theatre. Something to be grateful for. I didn't much fancy trekking back up the valleys to where I materialised it, never mind digging it out of a snowdrift. The lobby, as he passed through it, was fair to swarming with Movellan soldiers, civil servants, human aides, and even those representatives of the Loyalists and other resistance factions who trusted Penley enough to throw in their lot with the new alliance. Which actually seems to be quite a few of them. That's a promising start, anyway. The more the merrier. One of the resistance members seemed familiar to him, as he met her eyes, but not to the extent of immediate recognition. She had clear, bronze-toned skin and short white hair that sat rather strangely with her obvious youth, and she was dressed in damaged-looking combat fatigues. Damaged and bloodstained. Aeronwy, he realised, with mixed emotions, as she approached him. Her new platform's face had been reconfigured to bear a close resemblance to her old one, but the effect was not helped by its bland expression. She smiled politely as she came near, which did nothing at all to ease the sense of discrepancy.

"Doctor, you saved my life," she greeted him, in a voice not dissimilar to her former one, but with a calmness and a perfect, mannered enunciation that she had not possessed before. "I should thank you for that."

"My pleasure," he replied, with no more conviction than had been in her voice. "I'm sorry that was all I could do for you, though. How are you coping?"

"'Coping,' I would say, is the right word. You did the right thing, the logical thing, given the options. I no longer seem to know myself, though. In that sense I feel as if I did die back in the tunnels, and someone else was born … and I am not sure that I like her very much."

"Give her time. You might find that she grows on you, and isn't necessarily as different as you first thought. On the plus side, it looks as if they haven't drafted you, anyway."

"No. Given the circumstances of my integration, Akylah has not assigned me any compulsory service, military or civil. Perhaps it would have been better if she had done, then at least I would have something to lose myself in."

"Maybe, but is there any reason you can't just keep on working with Scientist Penley? I'm sure he'd be very grateful for the support, although being a political aide might not be as exciting as being a freedom fighter."

"I can live without excitement. A meaningful purpose would suit me well … but would that be an acceptable arrangement? A Movellan by nature, but continuing to live among humans, working primarily for their cause?"

"Damn straight it would. Isn't that the perfect middle ground? Some people around here could benefit from realising that's actually possible, that what you are and what you believe in aren't actually the same thing. Fair play to Keryn, Tamril, poor Ancel, and the rest, but most of the humans integrated so far have been so determined to be good little newly-born converts that they've almost managed to out-Movellan their own commanders."

"And you would know, Doctor."

"Thanks for the reminder … but anyway, it won't do them any harm to bear in mind that things aren't always that simple."

"A compelling argument, although I still wish it had not been fucking necessary," she declared, wincing as she forced herself to pronounce the swear word, against her programmed instincts of polite social protocol. Ouch. Least natural profanity ever, although A-plus for effort. "Still, I think I will take you up on that suggestion, if Mr. Penley is amenable to it."

"He will be, I've no doubt of that. I only wish I could stay and help, but–"

"Liar. I think you cannot wait to get back into that blue box of yours and well away from here, but that is entirely your right. You have done more than enough."

"I'll take that in the complimentary sense … You'll do fine, anyway. All of you."

"Is that just guesswork, or Time Lord foreknowledge you should not be sharing?"

"Call it faith, or maybe just a hunch. I'm told I have a talent for them. Hwyl fawr, Miss Hughes," he declared, by way of parting.

"Then thank you for your faith … and safe journeys, sister," she wished him, managing to elicit a faint, confused smile as he went on his way.

The End.

Acknowledgements

I am indebted to the work of Douglas Adams, Ian Stuart Black, Chris Boucher, Anthony Burgess, James Cameron, Philip K. Dick, Terrance Dicks, Rob Grant, Peter Grimwade, Harry Harrison, Brian Hayles, Robert Holmes, Gale Anne Hurd, Aldous Huxley, Drew Karpyshyn, Michael Miner, Terry Nation, Doug Naylor, Edward Neumeier, George Orwell, Kit Pedler, Marc Platt, Allan Prior, Gala Rizzatto, Eric Saward, Mary Shelley, Robert Banks Stewart, and David Whitaker.

Special acknowledgement to Michael P. Bledsoe, Guy W. McLimore Jr., Patrick Larkin, and Mark Harris: writers of The Doctor Who Role Playing Game (FASA, 1985) and The Doctor Who Technical Manual (Random House, 1983), for the backstory of the Movellans.