Baker T.
"I understand what you're saying Doctor Hardy but you've got your data. Why do you still need Stewart?"
The speaker was a penitent man. Short and stocky with thinning sandy hair and brown eyes. He was dressed in a blue jumpsuit an ID badge around his neck. Doctor Hardy was a tall thin fellow with a quick purposeful step and a cold gleam in his bespectacled eyes. His white lab coat flared out behind him as he made his way toward his laboratory.
It was the thirty-fifth century and the penitent man and his son were aboard a space station run by the Interstellar Navy's Research and Development Division. The environment bare. Lacking any creature comforts, they seemed to be traversing the black skeleton of a massive beast. Even the many lights, done in blue, were not enough to keep back an omnipresent darkness. It was as if the station were in a constant state of night.
"Mister Dougherty we are just getting the rest of the data now," Hardy said in his sharp flat tone. "We need to analyze it completely. Then there's the equation. We still don't fully understand it. We need to do both of these things before you can go."
"But you said we could leave once there was a prototype built. Then you said you needed a successful test. Now it's about data and equations. What's next?"
Hardy turned, Dougherty nearly colliding with him. "There is no 'next'." He placed a hand on Dougherty's shoulder. "Max, we're nearly there. Solving the equation is just taking longer than we anticipated. You are doing a good thing; making history. This technology will revolutionize the human race. Transportation, Commerce, Defense, we are entering a new golden age and it's all because of you and your son. You should be proud."
"When can I see him?" Max asked.
"I am going to look in on him now," Hardy answered. "Afterward, we'll be crunching numbers for the next few hours. You can take him to the recreation decks then."
"He doesn't like it there," Max said.
"He's a boy, Max," Hardy replied. "Genius or no, a seven-year-old needs to have fun." He turned and headed towards a secured door.
Max sighed going to a nearby window. Looking into space he saw into his own worried mind. They had been there nearly a year; the government seeking to put his son's abnormally high intelligence to use. Initially Max was open, even proud of the work his son was able to do. The boy's mother had been out of the picture since he was two and he needed the help. The scientists and their world seemed to be just the thing for Stewart. Now he was not so sure. A few weeks ago they had begun restricting his access and limiting their time together. The story was that the boy was helping them understand his mysterious equation. For a father missing and worried for his son, it was torture.
The Executor
Inside the secured levels, Doctor Hardy was met by a lab assistant. "He's asking about his son again?"
"In his usual idiotic way," Hardy said dismissively. "Some people just cannot see the bigger picture."
"We've kept them apart for almost three days now, sir," the assistant said. "It might be a good idea to let them see each other."
"Has the subject cracked our latest equation?" Hardy asked, ignoring the suggestion.
"This morning," the assistant said. "He did it in less than five minutes. You say he's had no formal education in quantum physics?"
"None whatsoever," Hardy said proudly. "What is he doing now?"
"Coloring," the assistant replied. They came to a large window.
"Useless," Hardy scoffed. He looked inside and saw a young boy with sandy hair and bright expressive eyes sitting at table, coloring a picture of a dinosaur. The room was white and had the basic necessities along with some childish comforts. There was no privacy, all the walls clear. While the window Hardy stood at was perfectly transparent the other three were covered with the much-debated equation that they had been unable to solve. Portions of it had been deciphered and put to use, including the manufacturing of their Infinity Bomb. The rest was an unknown with endless possibilities.
The Executor
In a secluded section of the station, the TARDIS materialized. The door opened and the Doctor emerged, his sonic screwdriver leading. He took a few readings of his surroundings before collapsing the device and returning it to the inside pocket of his jacket. Behind him River appeared. Checking her blaster she'd added a white jacket to her outfit.
"So this is it?" she asked.
"Yes, thirty-fifth century space station," the Doctor said. "Military judging from the smell of it." He licked his finger and held it up in the air for a moment before putting it back in his mouth, "Navy."
River closed the TARDIS doors. "You saw the insignia on the wall behind us."
The Doctor made a wry face. "You always have to take the amazing out of everything."
"You forget who you're with, my love." River said, "Gonna take a lot more than that to impress me." From a pocket she removed a square box and activated it. "Well this is definitely where our projectile came from." She turned to the Doctor, "Fancy a quick look around?" She found him staring at a door. "What is it?"
The Doctor nodded grimly. "You can come out now."
"It took you long enough. I was starting to get bored."
River turned around and found the speaker. In all her time at Stormcage she had never seen his face. It was young with a slightly smug expression covering a haunting sadness. His head was shaved completely shining in the low light of the area, his skin a smooth caramel color, eyes hazel with a somewhat predatory glint.
He dressed in the colors of the Time Lords. Dark brown leather boots rising to his knees. Bloused inside were burgundy military pants. He wore a roomy bronze shirt beneath a waistcoat which matched his pants featuring a cloth drape which hung to his knees and a leather mantle with a high collar and open neck. On the left breast there was a Gallifreyan crest done in subdued gold. On his forearms he wore leather gauntlets featuring the same crest.
"Lord Executor," the Doctor nodded.
"Lord Doctor," the Executor bowed. He looked to the woman. "Interesting. Not quite human. Not quite Time Lord but the scent of both. Who are you enchanting lady?"
River smiled at the flattery, "River Song, Misses Lord Doctor to you." She turned to her husband. "I rather like that title."
The Executor flashed a wink at the Doctor, "Misses? Well done Doctor."
"If we've dispensed with the pleasantries there is work to be done," the Doctor said.
The Executor's face turned stern. "What has happened?"
"Someone's figured out your secret," the Doctor replied.
"Impossible," the Executor said though his face indicated concern.
River moved over, holding up her device. Playing the destruction of the Azure Spiral for him, she watched horror and shame play across his face before his jaw set and determination won out. "What can you tell us about this?"
"This occurred at a single point in time?" the Executor asked.
"Yes," the Doctor answered. He took the device from River, pointing at it. "How did they do it?"
"Who is 'they'?" the Executor asked.
"We traced the projectile's origin here," River said. "It's a human military station."
"Human?" the Executor frowned. He looked around. "Let's get inside. If this is military, a patrol will be coming through soon. The Doctor headed towards his TARDIS. The Executor stopped him. "No, we'll use the TARDIS with a functioning chameleon circuit. I can't believe you haven't fixed that yet, it's been how long?"
They followed him towards a door. It split in half and slid apart. They stepped through into a strange room. The walls silvery white, the chamber was ovular in shape, coming to a point across from them. There were five chairs with four-point securing harnesses. A sixth chair stood at the apex of the oval, set in the center of an arch-shaped console. Semi-transparent screens hovered over the console displaying various bits of data. The room was not as large as the Doctor's control room, but it was a TARDIS nonetheless.
River looked around, awe and wonder on her face. "Sweetie you really need to redecorate."
"His is a military TARDIS," the Doctor said with a dismissive wave. "Ours is a science vessel. Don't go getting all bug-eyed over another man's car."
River smiled, "Stop being jealous."
"If you two are done," the Executor said, standing at his station. He held out his hand. The Doctor gave him River's device. The Executor placed it into a slot in the center of the console. A screen appeared and filled with information.
River examined the flight controls for the Executor's TARDIS. "It's not a car, sweetie, it's a motorbike."
"I have a motorbike," the Doctor said.
"You have a scooter," River said.
The Executor read the scrolling information. Sitting, he swiveled his chair center and pulled it underneath the console. "I don't believe it. This technology is centuries beyond any race of humanity I've ever encountered."
The Doctor stepped up behind him. "How close is it to your design?"
"Too close. There's only missing one component," the Executor said.
"For those of us who were not alive during the Time War," said River with a huff.
"My missile was basically an implosion bomb with matter/antimatter propulsion," the Executor said, "the payload partially infused with dark matter."
"The matter/antimatter giving it its speed the dark matter allowing it to survive the event horizon," the Doctor explained. "The black hole would achieve infinite density in an instant and then crush itself under its own weight."
The Executor sighed. "But it wasn't enough. When cornered, the Daleks would escape by leaping about in time; jumping backward a few seconds and escaping. The last addition to the payload was a core of energy from the Time Vortex. The blast just wasn't at that point in time. It was all points in time."
The Doctor stared at him in horror, "If any of your calculations were wrong; if you were off by the minutest degree…"
The Executor's shame was obvious. "I knew. I didn't care."
The Doctor stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. "What the High Council would have done with that kind of power."
"I know that too," the Executor said. "The damage they would have caused. The humans don't know about the Time Vortex." He turned. "We need to make sure they never discover it. I barely got it right. They will surely get it wrong."
"What happens if it goes wrong?" asked River.
"Even without the Time Vortex energy," The Executor said. "Imagine if they managed to strike the center of the universe."
"The universe has no center," River said. "At the outset of the Big Bang, time and space erupted everywhere at once."
"But the singularity that it sprang from has a source," the Doctor said. "If that source were to suddenly blaze to infinite density it would undo everything."
"You said this is the projectile's origin?" the Executor asked.
"Yes," the Doctor answered.
The Executor nodded. "We need to ensure that all information regarding that weapon resides here and only here. Then we destroy the station." He slid back from the console and stood.
"And what about the people on this station?" asked the Doctor. The Executor gave him a look. "Oh you are so predictable. Just kill them all? Is that your solution to everything?"
"You don't need to be here for this," the Executor said. "I can do it."
"Like you've always done," the Doctor snapped. "Of course, that's what you do, eh? The Executor, handling execution in all its forms. I should've left you in your padded room."
"And when I'm done you can put me back," the Executor replied. He headed for the door. The Doctor grabbed his arm. The Executor rounded on him, shoving him backward. He pointed outside. "They are meddling with forces beyond their comprehension. They need to be stopped before they do more damage!"
"We don't know their intentions," the Doctor said.
"Their intentions?" the Executor yelled, his eyes wide in disbelief. "They could've used the dark matter core for something like energy production or starship propulsion. Instead they used it to slaughter a billion, billion beings! Oh their intentions are obvious, Doctor, obvious to everyone except you!"
The Doctor held up his hands. "You're right. You're absolutely right. They made a mistake, but that's what they do. They make mistakes. That's how they get better."
"Not at the expense of the universe," the Executor said.
"This is one mind," the Doctor pleaded, "just one. We find that mind, we change it and the threat goes away."
"A mind that can be changed, can change back," the Executor said.
"Then what does that mean for you?" River said taking a step forward.
"Try it my way first," the Doctor said. "Just let me try. If it doesn't work," he swallowed and took a breath, "if it doesn't work we'll do it your way."
The Executor leaned in close, "Remember you said that." At the door he pressed his palm to the wall. A circle lit and the wall slid away revealing a compartment. Inside was a metal rod. Two feet long and thick as a broom's handle, it was dingy gray with black anodized rings and a curved glossy black bulb at one end. He twirled it inside the drape of his waistcoat where it disappeared before stepping aside. "Lead the way Lord Doctor."