Chapter 16
Jack Harkness had always kept an open mind to the unusual or unknown. Aliens from another world? Grew up with that fact. Rift in space-time causing creatures to seep into 21st century Earth? Living it on a daily basis. Cyclone running through a top secret project in the middle of the New Mexican desert? Well, Jack hadn't believed that one was really possible until he saw Al Calavicci practically zooming from the Imaging Chamber, a stunned look on his face.
"Hey!" he called out to the retreating Admiral, wondering what in the world could have caused a seasoned veteran of the United States Navy to go as pale as a white blanket against a lush green lawn, the kind of lawn you'd like to see a beautiful body accentuate with lovely curves in just the right spot... But that was obviously not important right now. Following Al out of the Control Room, he jogged to catch up with him. "What's wrong?"
"Ghosts," the man replied with no preamble.
"Ghosts?" Jack repeated, not quite sure he'd heard Al right. "Are we talking about the dead coming back in the form of ectoplasm or trans-dimensional beings from another plane of existence?"
"What?" Al asked. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about, Jack. I just know that what I saw means ghosts." He kept speaking more to himself than to Jack. "I told Sam the place was haunted. Did he listen to me? No. Of course not. Just superstitious Al talking..." He looked at Jack. "You know that man never believes what I tell him about the heebie jeebie stuff? Just strides into crypts and tombs without a second thought, doesn't believe in vampires..."
Jack gently took his arm, stopping him in his rant and his steps. "Wait. Go back to the ghosts. What exactly did you see?"
Al stopped in mid-sentence. "The ghosts? Okay, let's see what you make of this. That Doctor has some kind of mental paper or something. Sam says people see things on it. I don't know about that, always seemed blank to me. Then all of the sudden, writing starts appearing on it... like... like... a Oujai board or something. I don't know about you, but when things like that start happening, I'm not hanging around."
Jack looked into his eyes. "So something appeared on the psychic paper," he clarified. He pointed to him with his right hand. "But the psychic paper's always been blank to you, which means you must be some kind of a genius."
"That's it. Psychic paper." Al paused. "That's what Sam keeps saying. I don't get that. How the hell does not seeing something make you a genius? It's a blank piece of paper. Of course, you don't see anything on it."
Jack took a deep breath. "But it's psychic," he explained. "Most people do see something on it. It's like... an unspoken hypnotic suggestion. The paper actually conveys your thoughts but the other person has to be susceptible to its influence."
Al started pacing. "Unless, apparently, there are ghosts around and then... then... it starts working. Seems like more of a ghost hunting tool to me." He stopped and looked at Jack, his eyes narrowed. "You don't seem too surprised about any of this. Does this Doctor run into these kinds of things regularly?"
Jack looked slightly uncomfortable with the question. "A little here and there." Seeing the look on Al's face, he corrected. "Okay, so he runs into those kinds of things a lot. But that doesn't matter. What does matter is... what did the paper say?"
Al threw up his hands. "Well then, I'm going to let him handle this 'cause he's obviously got the experience to deal with it all. I'm certainly not going back until Ziggy has information I can bank on."
Jack grabbed his shoulders, intent on getting the information from Al. "What did the paper say?" he repeated firmly.
"I don't remember exactly. I just know the words 'Time Lord' were on it. As you say, he can deal with it."
"I didn't say that," Jack countered, once again following Al. "Just because he's run across things like this any number of times doesn't mean he knows what the hell he's doing. I've had to save his butt more times than I can count!"
"Yeah, well... if this guys all that everyone cracks him up to be, he certainly doesn't need my help. Sam seems quite willing to accept what's happening so, for the time being, I'm going back to Beth in our quarters." He called out to the hybrid computer. "Ziggy, let me know as soon as you find something that I can actually help Sam with."
"Affirmative, Admiral," the hybrid computer replied.
"Great. Take his side," Jack complained at the computer. Sighing, he shook his head at the retreating military man. "Some partner you are, Al," he derided.
Al turned. "Listen, Jack. At the moment, there's not a thing I can do about ghosts or giant lizards. This has got to be the most bizarre leap to date. When Ziggy has something, I'll be the first on it. Until then, well, this is definitely something I don't want to revisit."
"Giant lizards?" Jack questioned with a frown as Al marched away. "What is this, a bad B-movie?"
DWQLTWDWQLTW
After the hallway conference, Harry convinced Sally to visit her sister who lived on the outskirts of Chicago. Sally hadn't wanted to go, but Harry insisted. She packed her bags and Harry drove her there, promising to be back soon. In the meantime, the Doctor had Sam follow him.
"When you are about to go into battle with an enemy, it's important that everyone knows exactly what and who they will be up against," he told Sam as he guided him through the TARDIS.
"I agree, although I've seldom had all the facts in my travels."
"Well, this time you will know everything I know about our 'visitor'," the Doctor told him. "By the way, brilliant idea with the cameras. If it weren't for them, we'd be in a world of hurt." He marched into the lab where he and Harry had been only a few hours before. "Unfortunately, only one data module survived." He gestured to the seat in front of the viewing screen.
"I can't take full credit for the idea. I once leapt into a researcher of the paranormal. He used cameras and recording devices to tape strange phenomena. I just used the same concept here. I'm sorry that the equipment was broken, though."
"Completely demolished. But then again, it did encounter the fury of a Dragon." He looked at him expectantly. "Are you going to sit and watch this?"
"Could I stand? I think better on my feet."
The Doctor didn't have an objection to the request and so started the video they had from the cellar.
Sam watched first with amazement and then horror as the thing took shape. "A Jabberwock," he whispered, seeing the wings, claws, and tail. "'The jaws that bite, the claws that catch'..."
"Makes me wonder if Carroll had encountered one of these people when he wrote that poem," the Doctor commented. "But this particular Dragon makes the Jabberwock look like a kitten." The tone in his voice and the look in his eyes told of a deep-seated hatred.
"Well, it sure as hell doesn't look like Puff." Sam shuddered and laughed nervously. "I take it there's no Vorpal sword to kill the thing?"
The Doctor seemed to be focused on the screen rather than on Sam's words. A moment later, though, his eyes brightened and his head turned quickly to gaze upon Sam. "Yes! YES! Sam Beckett, you are brilliant! That's exactly what we need!" He turned back to the screen. "But only if we absolutely have to. I will not kill unless I have no other choice."
"What?" Sam asked, not sure how taking something from Carroll's poem would animate the man so.
"A Vorpal sword!" the Time Lord explained, moving around the room. "Well, it isn't exactly a sword. Well, not one made of steel and iron. But it's strong enough to penetrate a Dragon's skin."
"You're telling me that there really is a Vorpal sword?" He considered that piece of information. "Then all of Carroll's poem could have been related to these creatures. But when would Carroll have encountered a Dragon? And if he did, why wasn't Earth destroyed then?"
The Doctor paused thoughtfully before looking into Sam's eyes. "I have no idea. Only a small handful are like that maniac. It's quite possible Carroll encountered a Dragon who came to Earth for some other reason." He nodded to the screen. "But this one... I never thought I'd see him again."
"Okay. So there are good dragons, like Puff. Gotcha." He continued watching as the short film came to an end. "Why didn't you expect to see this particular Dragon again?"
The Doctor fiddled with his bandaged hand. "Because, for all I knew, he died in the Time War."
"Stop picking at that," Sam derided. He continued their conversation. "You keep talking about this time war. That and Daleks and Cybermen." Sam turned and started pacing. "You say we should know our enemies. I think we should know our friends as well." He stopped and looked over to the Doctor. "This time war is obviously connected to this Dragon. Tell me about it."
"I'm not picking," he groused back to Sam. "And it's of no importance to this situation," he continued, going to the module reader to remove the video and shut off the screen.
"Don't give me that. You're picking," Sam corrected. He followed him over. "I disagree. If you thought this Dragon was dead and now he isn't, then perhaps something about the war is the key."
"I'm not picking at the bandage! I'm scratching around it," the Time Lord argued. "I seriously doubt the war has anything to do with this," he continued tersely, putting the data module away and turning to leave the lab.
"If you were just scratching around it, the bandage wouldn't be starting to loosen like that!" countered Sam, following him. He brought up another point to bolster his idea about the war. "Well, then, if not the whole war, then when was the last time you saw this Dragon alive?" Sam asked, seeing that the Doctor was not going to divulge everything he knew about the situation.
"There is a reason I call myself the Doctor, namely that I do know how to take care of minor injuries such as this. I don't need a nursemaid telling me how to take care of something as simple as a bandage!" The Gallifreyan took a deep breath, forcibly keeping himself calm, as he glared at Sam. "And the war has nothing to do with this!" he told him again, his voice tense.
"If you want to trade medical credentials, we can do that. I'm just saying that if you keep at the bandage like that, the blisters won't heal properly." He leveled his eyes at the Doctor's. "You're not looking at this logically. If you'd do that, then you see, it has everything to do with the war. Logically, if the last time you saw this Dragon was in the war, and you thought it was killed, and now it's back then there's a definite connection, Doctor," Sam said firmly as well.
"Do you have a bandage fixation or something?" The Doctor glared at him. "As to logic, who do you think you are, bloody Spock? And I am referring to both the actual doctor and the fictional character. Drop it!" he ordered.
Sam glared back. "Well, Mr. Spock was right a lot. At least Kirk had the sense to listen to him." He paused a beat. "And Doctor McCoy as well, even when he didn't want to." Sam grinned, "And McCoy would tell you to leave the bandage alone too."
"Well, I'm none of them. I'm the Doctor," the Time Lord stated firmly. "The Time War is off limits. And so is the bandage!"
"You know, you use that title way too much. 'I'm the Doctor,' like that makes you God or something and your pronouncements are final. I may be some short lived human from what to you is probably some backwoods boonie called Earth, but I know enough to recognize a connection when I see one."
"All right, so there's a connection!" the Doctor finally admitted, still walking away from Sam. "And it's still none of your business."
"Fine!" Sam stopped, calling after him. "Just bury your head in the sand. You tell me that damned creature is about to destroy my world, my future... where Rose is, if you forgot... and you decide to walk away from the one lead we have."
The Doctor froze, turning towards Sam. He watched him for a long moment. "Are you sure you want to know, Dr. Beckett? Are you sure you want to know who I really am?" he asked darkly.
"I'm sure." Sam said quietly. He'd faced the devil once. He couldn't believe that the Doctor could trump that.
"Come with me, then," the Doctor instructed, walking passed Sam. He led him to an ornate library with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. If he was going to have to show his dirty linen to the overly-stubborn human, he was damned well going to do it in a place he felt comfortable. Walking in, he gestured to a sitting area. "Sit down," he instructed abruptly, finding his own seat. He waited until Sam had followed his instructions. They sat there for a few moments, Sam still obnoxiously curious and quickly becoming impatient.
"If this is your way of skirting..." Sam started.
The Time Lord glared at him with fire in his eyes. "This isn't easy for me, you know!" he berated, the urge to toss the physicist out of the nearest airlock - if the TARDIS had an airlock... did it have an airlock? Would it make a difference if it did? - growing. Finally, he leaned forward, took a deep breath, and began. "The Last Great Time War was between the Time Lords, the Daleks and their allies. The Daleks were on a crusade to conquer the universe and, after centuries of just sitting back and watching, the Time Lords could no longer remain impassive, not when the whole of the universe was at stake. The war went on for centuries. Whole civilizations were wiped away by the Daleks." He took a deep breath. "The war was going badly for the Time Lords. The Daleks had already taken the Cruciform and had defeated us at Arcadia. After all that had happened, when defeat seemed inevitable, it was up to me to stop it. And I'd tried everything to end the war until there was no other choice left... but complete annihilation of both species."
As the last Time Lord spoke, the Earth physicist listened in a state of both rapt attention and tribulation. As the Doctor finished his tale, Sam recognized the horror and yet determination of the decision clear in the Gallifreyan's eyes. Realizing what the man meant, Sam's soul hurt at the reality of the statement. His voice cracked as he quietly whispered, "Like Shiva."
"'Now I am become Shiva, the destroyer of worlds,'" the Doctor quoted. His eyes turned far away as if seeing something. "I was to have died with them but I didn't. Instead, I regenerated." He looked at Sam with haunted eyes. "Are you sure you want to associate yourself with a man who has committed genocide..." He shook his head with self-derision. "...repeatedly and on his own people?"
Sam's first instinct was to agree with the Doctor and find some way to put distance between him and the man who admitted to singlehandedly causing the extinction of at least two species. But then, seeing the self-loathing that the Time Lord exhibited at his own actions, Sam thought about the question presented to him once more. He thought back to what he'd experienced since leaping into the life of this man and decided that instead of immediate condemnation, he needed to know more to determine his response. He stated gently, "I may not know you well, Doctor, but from what I've seen you wouldn't do something like that unless there was a truly compelling reason. Tell me why you found it necessary to commit genocide, including your own people."
The Doctor nodded slightly, lost in the thoughts of what he had done. "The Daleks would have become rulers of time and space, destroying anything and everything that didn't bow to their 'superiority. And the Time Lords... well, let's just say that their priorities changed and not for the best." He paused. "You haven't really seen what the Daleks are capable of, Sam. You only saw them as they fell into the Void and, at that time, it was relatively easy for me to defeat their smaller force. If you could have seen them, billions upon billions, ready to strip the universe of all life but their own..." He trailed off. How could he expect this human ape to understand? Up until the day before, the man had never even been off his own planet or even fully accepted that alien life teemed throughout the universe in amazing diversity.
"Was there any other way? Could you have taken a different path? Was there something else that could have been done that wouldn't have led to you ending the lives of what you've said was literally billions of beings?" the physicist asked, needing to know the answer before he could choose his course of action.
There was a long pause of silence as the Gallifreyan considered how to answer. "I've often questioned myself on that. Time and again. And I keep coming up with the same answer." He gazed into Sam's eyes. "No. I can't think of any other way I could have stopped the war. If I hadn't utterly destroyed both sides, either the Daleks would have taken it all or something far worse would have happened."
Sam was very quiet. He put himself in the Doctor's shoes, accepted the fantastically terrible tale as gospel truth. Finally he spoke, his voice a little stronger. "Then you chose for life to continue for the rest of the universe. To prevent further genocides being caused by the Daleks, you made a decision no one should ever have had to face. But if that was truly your only alternative, I believe you made the right choice."
"Yeah," the Doctor whispered, his voice cracking slightly before he swallowed and then sniffed. "The silence, though, sometimes makes me wonder, briefly, if it was really worth it. If the cost was too high." He gave Sam a sad smile. "But then I see you lot... your brilliance…" He trailed off, not able to finish.
"What do you mean silence?"
The Time Lord didn't answer at first, his expression becoming even more somber as his eyes fixated, his mind lost in thoughts of that terrible reality. He didn't want to think about how quiet his mind had become since the rest of his people had died but this human was making him remember everything that he hated about his life since the war. When it became obvious that Sam wasn't going to let up on the subject - the man just really couldn't take a hint - he sniffed and turned his head away while replying. "Time Lords are... were... connected on a low telepathic level. Now..."
Finally realizing the great sacrifice the alien had made, Sam's heart hurt all the more. The Gallifreyan had obviously lived centuries with the quiet background noise of his people constantly in his consciousness. To take the step necessary to protect the universe, he'd had to truly live in the moment to moment realization of what he'd done. No wonder he'd planned to die along with his people. The fact that he had regenerated was truly a sentence of continuous purgatory. Sam also understood that, if not for this last Time Lord, all would have perished before the onslaught of these Daleks. Or something worse, the Doctor had said. He couldn't imagine what could be worse. Taking the man's shoulder, he looked earnestly into the alien's haunted eyes. "I'm sorry that the cost was so great. I feel that as a member of one of the civilizations that owes our very existence to your actions that something needs to be stated."
The Gallifreyan pulled slowly away from the physicist's grip. "Please... don't," he said quietly. He didn't think he could bear another false statement of pity.
"No. It's important. Thank you for what you did, choosing to preserve this universe. Thank you from all the life now and in the future that has a chance to grow and flourish because of what you did. I know that few will ever know the burden you've taken on and these words are not nearly enough, but they are all I have to offer you."
The Doctor didn't say anything to Sam's words. Many people had given him sympathy so many times since the war. But none of them had ever thanked him for his terrible actions. He wasn't even sure he deserved thanks. Instead, he just took a slight breath. "You wanted to know about the Dragons," he said, altering the focus quickly, not wanting to even think about the sight of his home planet burning as he tried to cope with the screams of thousands in his mind.
"Yes. The Dragons," Sam said, allowing the Doctor to choose his own way back from the awful revelation he had pushed upon the Time Lord. He could feel some of the raw pain the man felt and it was almost overwhelming. He stayed quiet, awaiting the Doctor's continuing story.
The Time Lord leaned back in his seat. "As I said before, the Dragon royal houses were divided in their views concerning the war. One of the houses was ruled by a brutal warrior named Krazan, who had allied himself with the Daleks out of lust for power. The Time Lords tried to show him the error in his thoughts, tried to convince him of the truth that once the Daleks finished using him and his people, they would turn against him and destroy his entire race. But we failed to change his viewpoint. He was personally responsible for the destruction of a dozen worlds and he would have continued if my fleet hadn't defeated him eventually at Granadi." He took a breath. "He was handed over to his own people for trial and execution. Well, that was the impression all of us had of his fate."
"So, you thought he'd been executed." Sam thought for a moment. "Could there have been a stay?"
The Doctor shook his head. "Treason and genocide warrant the death penalty on Lastiarus." He exhaled slowly. "And Her Royal Majesty wouldn't have given him a pardon. It would have been political suicide if she had."
"Could someone have staged a prison break before the execution? Others of the Dalek's allies, perhaps?
Once more meeting Sam's question with a negative answer, the Time Lord responded, "No. They didn't trust each other with their lives. One less person to compete for the Dalek's knowledge would have been their thoughts on the matter." He gave Sam a firm look. "And the Daleks didn't have many allies." He thought for a moment. "No... somehow... Krazan avoided the death sentence but I doubt if it was from any kind of prison break. But why would the Dragons break one of their most sacred laws?"
"Perhaps because they'd lost so much?" Sam questioned.
The Gallifreyan jumped up at Sam's words, his eyes widening slightly. "That's it!" He turned to Sam, a slightly haunted look on his face. "The war was putting them on the verge of extinction. That's the only reason Krazan is still alive. They needed him alive to help propagate their species. Why kill a tyrant when that tyrant could provide the genetic material to father dozens of children?" He paused. "Proper protocols in place, of course, to prevent the creation of another tyrant."
"Makes sense."
"Which means they must have imprisoned him," the Doctor added, pacing slightly. "Of course, it would have been solitary confinement... no visitors, no mail, no television... I know that would drive me a little mad..."
Suddenly Sam grinned broadly. "That's it! As you would say, you're brilliant!"
The Doctor smiled manically. "I am," he stated confidently. His face quickly turned into a slight frown. "Now, what am I brilliant about?"
"Mail. That's what I've been trying to remember."
"Mail? I don't think now is the time to be thinking about picking up the post."
"No. Not that. Mail to get Al to return," Sam explained.
"Yes!" the Doctor exclaimed, moving to a table just to the side of the sitting area as he considered Sam's suggestion. "Wait... no... no... yes!" He looked at Sam with a raised eyebrow. "Who are you going to send the letter to, though? Obviously it would have to be held until it catches up with Albert's present."
Sam got up and walked over to the alien. "We did this before. Well, for a different reason. I got locked in the Imaging Chamber the one time Al and I switched places."
"You and Albert switched places in time?" came the credulous query.
"Yeah. Bolt of lightning hit us during a specific situation. Caused our mesons to mix a little."
"Well, a bolt of lightning in the wrong place at the wrong time or at the right place at the right time can make a world of difference. Once again, I refer you 'Back to the Future' but that's getting off track a little bit," the Doctor admitted.
"Yeah. Going back to your question..." Sam paced, thinking through the solution. "...in 1972, Doc Crosnoff had retired. Dad had been using, um..." He tried to think. His eyes squirted shut. "Um... Barry Thompson. That's it." Suddenly, his face fell. "Last time I saw Mr. Thompson was at the reading of my father's will, not that there was much left."
The Doctor looked at Sam with sympathy, understanding the reason for his sudden deep sadness. "I'm sorry."
Sam took a breath before he shrugged off the pain. "Well, as you've said, there are some things that can't change." He took another cleansing breath and then continued. "I can mail the letter to Barry Thompson and he can make sure it arrives at the project in..." He trailed off. "Damn. Without Al here, I don't know when to have it delivered." He laughed at the absurdity of his statement. "Then again if Al was here, we wouldn't have to send the letter."
"Well, what's the last year you remember?" the Doctor questioned.
Sam squinted his eyes shut again as he tried to recall the date at the project. "Um, it was 1999. September 18th to be exact."
"A memory full of holes and you happen to remember that date?" The Doctor grinned slightly at him.
"Yeah. Well, there were... um...special circumstances that I'd prefer to keep private," Sam said, referring to his memory. It had been the last time he and Donna had shared their love. It had also been the day he'd promised her he'd return after she'd begged him to stay. He'd chosen Al's life over his marriage, a decision he knew he'd still make given the same circumstances. He'd never been able to keep that promise to return and Al finally told him at one point that Donna had left, deciding she couldn't wait for him forever.
"Special circumstances?" the Time Lord questioned. Seeing the flush that came to the human's face with the query, he could easily deduce what the "special circumstances" were - namely intimacy with his mate - especially if this involved the one time Sam had returned home, according to what the physicist had told him before. "Right. That." He cleared his throat. "Well... I suppose you had better write your letter and post it. If you're right, your friend should be walking through that white door the moment you do."
"That's what happened the last time." Going to the desk the Doctor indicated for him, he wrote the first letter to Al explaining that he needed him to come back into the Imaging Chamber. Then he addressed a second letter to himself with instructions of what had to be done, including involving Ziggy in the plan, so that Al wouldn't open the letter until he leapt into the life of the Doctor. He held the letter to Al in his hand, certain that his friend would honor the request. Finally, he wrote a third letter to Barry Thompson with the instructions of when and where the letter should be sent. Finishing it, he turned to the Time Lord.
"Do you know where the closest post box is?"