Chapter Two: Rescue Mission

Wilfred picked up the fallen revolver and tucked it into his belt. "All right. Tell me what to do. I'll help the Doctor any way I can."

"Take my hands," Pennine said.

He did.

There was a rushing sound in his ears, the surroundings dissolved, and he felt as if he was being sucked down a plughole. It only lasted a few seconds; afterwards, Wilf found himself in a cold metal hallway. He swayed slightly from the sudden change. Pennine grabbed his arm and pulled him round a corner as footsteps approached.

Two Time Lords—at least, Wilf guessed they were by the robes and headdresses—passed in silence without glancing back, and he began to breathe again.

"Where are we?" he whispered.

"Gallifrey," she whispered back.

Despite the situation, Wilf couldn't help a bit of giddiness. His first steps on another planet!

"This is the corridor that links the jail cells with the Council Hall," Pennine explained. "The cells are that way, and the Council meets that way."

"Which way are we—"

"Shh!" Pennine gripped his arm. More footsteps were coming, much more of them, and this time Wilf could hear something else—a jangling of chains.

As the procession passed, he heard Pennine draw in a sharp breath, and had to stifle a reaction himself. Two more Time Lords were followed by the Doctor. He was chained by the wrists and ankles, the chains held by the Time Lords following. But it was his face that shocked Wilf the most. It reminded him of the moment he had sat opposite him in the cafe, but while that Doctor still had a streak of fight in him, this one seemed more ... resigned. Hopeless. And so fearful. The chains jangled as he shook, his stride occasionally tempered by a stumble.

He looked round at Pennine, and got another shock at the tears running unchecked down her cheeks as she stared at the Doctor. Her eyes had darkened, a mixture of pain, terror and determination. Wilf felt a lump in his throat as something clicked. He knew exactly who she was.

One parent to another, he found her hand and squeezed it. She shot him a look of thanks.

"They're taking him to his trial," Pennine whispered once they were out of earshot.

"Trial?" Wilf didn't like the sound of that.

"Well, it's not a trial. The Council will have already decided his fate. It's just where they officially announce it. And then carry it out."

"I'm guessing it's not a prison sentence then."

"No," Pennine said. "The most treacherous of Time Lords reap the worst punishment. He'll be executed."

She took a deep breath and her tone became more businesslike. "Wilf, listen, this is what you need to do." He nodded. "Before they—before it starts, they'll remove his coat and jacket. You need to get his screwdriver out the pocket. Then once it's all clear, use it to get the chains off him. Leave the rest to me."

Wilf swallowed, hoping that Pennine had had time to plan this well, or at least that she had the same capacity for successfully improvising as her son did.

"We're not going to have long once they've started," she said.

"How long?"

She bit her lip, thinking. "About eight minutes."

"Oh blimey. I hope you know what you're doing."

She closed her eyes. "So do I." She took a deep breath. "Right. Go that way, turn left, keep going and stay out of sight. You'll be able to get to his clothes without anyone seeing you, but then you'll—you'll have to watch for the cue." Wilf nodded, hoping this would make more sense while it was actually happening. "And, Wilfred ... I'm sorry you have to watch this. I truly am."

Pennine gave Wilfred's hand one last squeeze, let go and hurried off in the opposite direction. Wilf turned and broke into a run, following her directions.

He slowed down, trying not to make any noise, as he approached a door. It was standing open, and he peeked round, almost letting out a gasp as he found himself looking straight at a Time Lord's back. Not daring to breathe, he watched as, just past the guard, the Doctor's coat and suit jacket were forcibly removed and cast aside, before the Doctor was marched out of the room through a door the other end. Wilfred made sure the room was completely empty before sneaking in himself.

The door was wide open, and brightly lit beyond. He could see only a sliver of the huge room. It was filled round the walls with Time Lords, and the floor empty except for the procession. The Doctor's appearance was greeted with a roar from the crowd—Wilf wasn't convinced that was a good sign.

He began rifling through the coat pockets, his heart plummeting when he realised just how many the Doctor had, and how big they were on the inside, stuffed full of things.

Ah! Wilf's fingers brushed something long, cold and metal. He had it!

Now he could only wait. And watch for the cue.

The Doctor was standing before a slab of stone. A long box lay beside it. Wilf wasn't close enough to see, but he could paint in the trembling hands and the set jaw that he had seen earlier.

The Time Lord that had led the charge on Earth—Rassilon, was it that the Doctor had called him—stood high above on a podium, flanked by other Time Lords. The whole room was hushed as he stepped forward.

"Doctor." He spoke in a cold tone. "You have been found guilty of the charge of high treason and genocide. Anything you have to say in your defence?"

The Doctor didn't reply, but stared back into Rassilon's face determinedly. A long silence.

Rassilon finally spoke, breaking the silence in the hall. "So, nothing to say. Doctor, you are hereby sentenced to death by Triple Execution."

There was no mistaking it now; even as far away as Wilf was, he could see the Doctor shaking.

"Any last words, Doctor?"

He spoke finally; although quiet, the words rang in the silent hall. "Someone had to stop you."

"Begin," Rassilon ordered.

TBC …