I don't own Doctor Who, sadly. I do own the Guardian, though.
GD~GD~GD~GD~
He suddenly woke up on the floor of a small cupboard. "What is it?" He scrambled to his feet. "What's happening?"
Frantically, he felt the walls. There was something he needed to get back to. Someone. No, more than just one someone. Pictures flashed through his mind. An absolutely gorgeous redhead. Two toddlers, a boy and a girl. A dark-haired man. A bright blue box.
He came to the fourth wall. The door. It swung open and he fell out into another room, thankfully a much larger one.
Or perhaps not. The clash of colors intensified his headache.
A blonde woman appeared beside him. "I don't believe it! Why'd they put you in there? They never said you were coming." She bent down to help him stand.
"What happened?" He asked. He grabbed her arms for support. "I was..." Where had he been?
Another image, this time of a large room that seemed unusual flashed in his memory. He had been with the redhead. His… his wife. He smiled a tiny bit. That piece of information fit.
"Careful now," the blonde warned.
He took a step forward and promptly fell back down.
"Oh! Mind yourself! That's the transmat—it scrambles your head. I was sick for days."
He tried standing again, once again leaning on the blonde for support, despite how wrong it felt. There was only one woman that he wanted to lean against.
"All right?"
He fought to get his bearings, despite his spinning vision.
"So, what's your name then, sweetheart?"
What was his name? The name "the Guardian" floated through his head. No—that wasn't right. That must be the name of his wife. He nearly answered "Eltanin", but something told him he shouldn't. What did he call himself?
"The Doctor, I think." That sounded right. "I was…er…I don't know. What happened? How?"
"You got chosen." The blonde nodded, a strange look on her face.
The Doctor frowned. "Chosen for what?"
"You're a housemate." Now the blonde smiled. "You're in the House. Isn't that brilliant?"
The Doctor's frown deepened with his confusion and he glanced around the psychedelic room. A young man and woman stood beside a television.
"That's not fair!" The man whined. "We've got eviction in five minutes! I've been here for all nine weeks, I've followed the rules, I haven't had a single warning, and then he comes swanning in.
While the young black woman said something about protesting and painting the walls—which, quite honestly needed to be a more muted tone than bright green—the Doctor looked around again, finally noticing the cameras and barred doorways. A rhythm appeared in his pounding headache. So it was a song? If the confusion of noise could be called that.
A computerized voice spoke, "Would the Doctor please come to the Diary Room?"
He looked around. A buzz drew his attention to a silver door with an eye on it. Beside the door was a light that looked like another eye. He walked over to the door and opened it.
The room was dimly lit other than a light over a bright red chair, which looked more like a vaguely shaped cushion. He sat down in the chair.
The voice spoke again. "You are live on channel Forty-Four Thousand. Please, do not swear."
He raised his eyebrows. "You have got to be kidding."
GD~GD~GD~GD~
The Guardian woke up in a dimly lit room. She sat up suddenly. There was just enough light to keep her from panicking. But where was the Doctor and Michael and Jack? She looked around.
There was a stabbing pain in her head. She pressed her hands against the side of her head. "Dear Omega, I hate transmats!"
Someone, a man appeared beside her. "It's all right."
The Guardian pulled away from him. His tone was wrong. It was predatory.
"The transmat does your head in," he continued. "Get a bit of amnesia. What's your name?"
"The Guardian," she murmured, looking around again. "Where the hell is my husband?"
The man ignored her question. "Just remember: do what the android says. Don't provoke it. The android's word is law."
"Well, clearly it's never met me." She had destroyed hundred of androids in almost as many different ways. She felt her arms and sides, noting that she still wore her jacket. Good.
"Positions, everyone! Thank you!" A woman yelled.
"Come on, hurry up." The man reached to help her up, but the Guardian pulled away again and stood herself. Her head was spinning and she felt sicker than she ever had while pregnant, but she could still stand on her own. She'd done so in worse circumstances.
"That's enough chat!" The woman shouted again. "Positions! Final call! Good luck!"
The Guardian forced herself to walk over to a semi circle of podiums. In front of the podiums, a group of people stood around a robot. She noted a podium with the name "Guardian" on it, but none of the other names looked familiar.
What in the name of Rassilon had her husband gotten her into?
The Guardian was the last to take her place, beside the man whose name was apparently Roderick.
The woman, who seemed to be a manager of some sort, shouted again. "Android activated!"
The robot turned on. "Welcome… to The Weakest Link!"
GD~GD~GD~GD~
The Doctor scanned the door with the sonic screwdriver. With the return of his memories had come an almost consuming desire to escape. He had to find the Guardian, the twins, and Jack. There was something very, very wrong. He just couldn't put his finger on what.
Other than the transmat, of course.
"I can't open it," he growled in frustration.
"It's got a deadlock seal," the blonde supplied. "Ever since Big Brother 504, when they all walked out. You must remember that."
He walked over to an alcove with a large mirror. "What about this?"
"Oh, that's Exoglass." The human followed him over. "You'd need a nuclear bomb to get through."
The sonic's scan confirmed her words. "Don't tempt me," he muttered.
The blonde was mercifully silent for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice had dropped. "I know you're not supposed to talk about the outside world, but you must've been watching. Do people like me?"
The Doctor looked over at her, annoyed by the continued intrusion.
"Lynda—Lynda with a 'y', not Linda with an 'I'. She got forcibly evicted because she damaged the camera. Am I popular?"
"I don't remember." He nearly snapped at her.
Lynda leaned forward, almost excited. "Oh, but does that mean I'm nothing? Some people get this far just because they're insignificant. Doesn't anybody notice me?"
He glanced at her again, only now noticing how important this was to her. For whatever reason, it really mattered to her what the viewers thought. "No. You're...you're nice." That much appeared to be true. "You're sweet. Everybody thinks you're sweet."
"Oh?" She smiled, flustered. "Is that right? Is that what I am? Oh, no one's ever told me that before. Am I sweet? Really?"
"Yeah." He smiled at her. "Dead sweet."
"Thank you." She looked away, biting her lip.
Oh, no. Better change the subject quickly. He glanced around rather desperately, once again noting the spot where red lines marked where a door should be. "It's a wall. Isn't there supposed to be a garden out there or something?" He headed that direction to get a closer look.
Lynda followed him. "Don't be daft. No one's got a garden anymore. Who's got a garden?" She gasped. "Don't tell me you've got a garden!"
"No, I've just got the TARDIS." Which had a garden in it...somewhere. Or maybe there wasn't one anymore. No, there was. The Guardian loved it.
"You've remembered?" Lynda cut into his quite pleasant dwellings on the very few times he had visited the garden with his wife. "So what happened? Where did they get you?"
"We'd just dropped Mickey off after a visit to Raxacoriofallapatorius. Then we went to Kyoto—Japan in 1336. We'd only just escaped." He grinned. "The Guardian nearly killed me for that one."
Granted, how was he supposed to know that by accepting the Emperor's honors that meant he was also marrying the man's daughter?
"We were back in the TARDIS—the Guardian had just come back from putting Gwyneth to bed, and then there was this light—" He broke off as he realized that he had been holding Michael when the light appeared.
Damn! How the hell had he forgotten that?
"That's the transmat beam." Lynda spoke, unaware of his distress. "That's how they pick the housemates."
He forced himself to walk towards the center of the room, to force himself out of his panic. Panicking wouldn't help him find his son or his wife sooner. "Lynda, it's worse than that. I'm not just a passing traveler. No stupid little transmat gets inside my ship. That beam was fifteen million times more powerful, which means this isn't just a game. There's something else going on."
He moved over to one of the cameras, feeling the fury of the Oncoming Storm rising. "Here's the latest update from the Big Brother House—I'm getting out. I'm going to find my family. And then, I'm going to find you."
He jabbed the glass with his finger, just to punctuate his point.
Gwyneth probably would have been safe, not being in the console room. But wherever the Guardian and Michael and Jack and the TARDIS were, he was going to find them.
GD~GD~GD~GD~
As the floor manager counted down, the Guardian assessed the situation. She'd never watched The Weakest Link, so she had no idea what it was about. She could only guess that it was a trivia show.
"Let's play The Weakest Link." The android's statement was accompanied by dramatic theme music. "Start the clock. Agorax, the name of which basic food stuff is an anagram of the word 'beard'?"
The man stared at the android, wide-eyed—clearly, he was terrified. "Bread."
"Correct. Fitch, in the Pan Traffic Calendar, which month comes after Hoob?"
Damn. She didn't know that one. And this appeared to be the easy rounds.
"Is it...Clavadoe?"
"No, Pandoff."
Well, at least the Guardian wasn't the only one. She noted Fitch's distraught look. Her reaction was far too terrified for this to be just a simple game.
"Guardian, in math, what is 258 minus 158?"
"One hundred." The Guardian replied, barely even looking at the android.
"Correct. Roderick."
"Bank."
"Which letter of the alphabet appears in the word dangle but not in the word gland?"
Roderick thought for a moment. "E."
"Correct. Collen, in social security, what D is the name of the payment given to Martian Drones?"
"Default." Colleen sighed, relieved. She must have known that one for certain.
"Correct. Broff, the Great Cobalt Pyramid is built on the remains of which famous Old Earth Institute?"
Torchwood. The Guardian knew that one. She and the Doctor had visited the Pyramid while they were still engaged. Lovely place. Other than the sand piranhas.
Broff, on the other hand, didn't know Torchwood's name, calling it 'Touchdown'.
"Agorax, in language, all five examples of which type of letter appear in the word 'facetious'?"
"Vowels."
"Correct. Fitch, in biology, which blood cells contain iron? Red or white?"
Whose biology?
"Um...white," Fitch answered.
"No, red. Guardian, in the holovid series 'Jupiter Rising', the Grexnik is married to whom?"
The Guardian glared at the android. "I have far better things to do with my life than watch what you humans call soap operas."
The looks of horror on the other contestants faces confirmed her suspicions. They were going to die.
GD~GD~GD~GD~
The Doctor scanned the door disguised as a section of wall. If he could just trigger an isolated sonic shift in the molecules, the door would disintegrate.
"Doctor, they said all the housemates must gather on the sofa," Lynda was still pleading. "You've got to."
"I'm busy getting out, thanks." He replied.
"But if you don't obey, then all the housemates get punished."
The Doctor rolled his eyes and stopped, turning towards the three humans. "Well, maybe I'll be voted out, then."
The man scoffed. "How stupid are you? You've only just joined, you're not eligible."
The Doctor flopped down in the purple sofa, next to the other young woman.
"And don't try anything clever, or we all get it in the neck," Lynda warned.
The Doctor shook his head. Why on Earth would anyone volunteer for this?
At the sound of the computer's voice, the young woman beside him grabbed his hand tightly. He tried to get his hand free, until he noticed that everyone was holding hands.
"Big Brother House, this is Davina Droid. Crosbie, Lynda, and Strood, you have all been nominated for eviction. And the eighth person to be evicted from the Big Brother House is..."
The Doctor rolled his eyes at the apprehension on their faces.
"Crosbie!"
The young woman beside him gasped, and Lynda burst into tears.
The Doctor leaned back, trying to get as far away from all the human emotions as he could while remaining on the sofa.
"Crosbie, you have ten seconds to make your farewells, and then we're going to get you."
The trio of humans stood and walked over to the door. The Doctor shook his head. Humans. Always more emotional than the moment called for.
He heard the door open and glanced back. "Crosbie, please leave the Big Brother House." Lynda and the man made an arch with their arms, and Crosbie walked through it and out the door. They waved, and the door closed.
When Lynda started sobbing in the man's arms, the Doctor sat up. This really was ridiculous, even for humans. "It's only a game show. She'll make a fortune on the outside. Sell her story, release a record, fitness video, all of that. She'll be laughing."
Lynda wiped her tears and gave him a confused look. "What do you mean on the outside?"
A video image of Crosbie appeared on the television. She was standing in a short white corridor.
"Here we go." Strood and Lynda hurried back over to the couch.
Crosbie stood there for several second, nothing happened.
"What are they waiting for?" The Doctor asked, annoyed. "Why don't they just let her go?" Must they draw this on? He had far better things to do right now.
"Stop it. It's not funny." Lynda pleaded.
"Eviction in five...four…three...two...one."
Suddenly, a beam from the ceiling hit Crosbie. She stiffened, energy going all over her as though she was being electrocuted. A moment later, a puff of smoke was all that was left.
The Doctor sat up numbly. "What was that?" That couldn't be…
"Disintegrator beam." Strood said quietly, confirming the Doctor's suspicions.
He looked at them, stunned even after what he had just seen.
"She's been evicted," Lynda said tearfully. "From life."
GD~GD~GD~GD~
The time for voting had come. Knowing what was going to happen, the Guardian chose carefully. Broff.
"So, Guardian, what do you actually do?" The android asked when they had all revealed their votes.
"I'm a professional bodyguard." She replied smoothly, noting the looks of surprise on the other contestants faces. It was a lie, but she was definitely not bringing her children into this.
"For whom?"
"The Face of Boe." Hopefully no one checked that out. The Face of Boe wouldn't be meeting her for another five billion years.
"Why Broff?"
"He's a tactical disadvantage," she replied. "With three questions wrong, he's the weakest link."
"Correct. Broff was the weakest link."
"No! Please!" Broff cried.
"Broff, you are the weakest link. Goodbye!"
The android's "mouth" opened and a barrel appeared.
GD~GD~GD~GD~
"Are you insane?" The Doctor knew he shouldn't shout at the humans. But for the Omega's sake, his wife and son were somewhere in these games! "You just step right into the disintegrator? Is it that important, getting your face on the telly? Is it worth dying for?"
"You're talking like we've got a choice!" Lynda shouted back, standing.
"But I though you had to apply."
"Don't be so stupid," Strood snapped. "That's how they played it centuries back."
The Doctor looked at Strood in shock.
Lynda continued, "You get chosen whether you like it or not. Everyone on Earth is a potential contestant; the transmat beam picks you out at random. And it's nonstop. There are sixty Big Brother houses running all at once."
"How many? Sixty?"
"They've had to cut back," Strood commented. "It's not what it was."
"It's a charnel house!" The Doctor shouted. "What about the winners? What do they get?"
"They get to live," Lynda said quietly.
"Is that it?"
"Well, isn't that enough?"
The Doctor stared at her for a moment, then moved over to the door. "I have to find my wife. Our son is somewhere out there. He's only a year old."
Twin gasps made him turn around. Both Lynda and Strood wore matching expressions of horror.
"What?" His already bad feeling was getting worse.
Strood spoke haltingly. "The…the transmats do take children...sometimes." He looked at Lynda for a moment, then back at the Doctor, then away. "But..." He broke off.
The Doctor looked at Lynda.
She started crying. "Doctor, they never survive it."
GD~GD~GD~GD~
The Guardian pulled out a gun and shot the android before it could fire. Its head exploded.
The humans, contestants and crew alike, stared at her in shock.
Then all hell broke lose.
GD~GD~GD~GD~
The Doctor stared at them. Michael. Dead.
No, he refused to believe it. Time Lords were hardier than humans. He had to have survived it.
"Lynda," he said coldly. "That contestant who was forcibly evicted—what exactly did she do?"
"Damage to property." Lynda replied.
"What? Like this?" He sonicked one of the cameras, making it spark madly.
GD~GD~GD~GD~
The contestants all ran for the main door, the crew going after them. A couple of male crew members started for the Guardian.
She held up her gun again. "I really wouldn't do that if I were you."
They stopped and held their hands up.
"Now, if you want to live, show me where there's another door."
"You can't get out," one of the men replied.
The Guardian smirked. "You haven't seen me do anything yet."
GD~GD~GD~GD~
"The Doctor, you've broken the House Rules. Big Brother has no choice but to evict you. You have ten seconds to make your farewells, and then we're going to get you!"
The Doctor leaped up from the couch. "That's more like it!" The wait had been too long, even if it had been only two minutes. He stopped in front of the door. "Come on, then. Open up!"
"You're mad!" Lynda followed him.
"I reckon he's a plant," Strood said. "He was only brought in to stir things up."
The door opened and the Doctor slipped into the white corridor as quickly as he could. The door closed immediately behind him.
"Come on then, disintegrate me!" He urged. "Come on, what're you waiting for?"
He waited, desperately hoping that his guess was right. Granted, if it wasn't then he wouldn't have to endure whatever end the Guardian would come up with for his stupidity.
"Eviction in five… four… three… two… one."
The machine powered down.
The Doctor laughed with well-disguised relief. "I knew it!" He turned to the camera, so he could speak to Lynda and Strood. "You see, someone brought me into this game. If they'd wanted me dead, they could've transmatted me into a volcano. They want me alive!"
Now he turned to the outer door. "Now then, maybe security isn't as tight this end."
He glanced at the camera again. "Are you following this? I'm getting out!"
One pulse from the sonic screwdriver, and the door slid open. Behind him, the other door opened. He turned to see Lynda. "Come with me."
She glanced back inside the room, probably at Strood. He was a rule-follower. No doubt he'd disapprove.
"Stay in there, you've got a 50-50 chance of disintegration," he reminded her. She wanted to go, he could see it. "Stay with me, I promise, I'll get you out alive. Come on!"
She shook her head. "No, I can't. I can't."
"Lynda, you're sweet. From what I've seen of your world, do you think anyone votes for sweet?"
He saw her hesitate, and he held out his hand. With a small smirk, Lynda joined him. He pulled the door the rest of the way open and they stepped out into a dimly lit room.
A very familiar, dimly lit room.
"Hold on. I've been here before. This is Satellite Five."
GD~GD~GD~GD~
One of the crew members gave the Guardian a significant look and tilted his head in the direction behind her.
"Thanks ever so much." The Guardian pulled a stun pistol out of her jacket and shot them both, then ran for the door.
Working quickly and watching her over shoulder, she tore into the panel beside the door. She crossed a few wires, ignoring the electric shocks that seemed to be the computer's rather weak defense against people like her, and the doors opened.
She slipped through into a large room. Like the game room, it was dimly lit, but a light shone on one particular section of wall.
The Guardian stumbled back against the again-closed doors.
In big, block letters, words painted on the wall announced who owned Satellite Five now.
The Bad Wolf Corporation.
GD~GD~GD~GD~
The Doctor sonicked a door, opening it. "No guards," he observed. "That makes a change. You'd think a big business like Satellite Five would be armed to the teeth." He looked around for anything that might help him. If he was going to find his son, he needed to know where Michael would have been transmatted to.
He knew the Guardian could handle herself, even though he couldn't contact her—something in the walls seemed to act as a telepathic dampener. Which made no sense, as humans were barely telepathic. The Guardian couldn't even read their stray thoughts.
Lynda followed him around. "No one's called it Satellite Five in ages. It's the Game Station now. Hasn't been Satellite Five in about a hundred years."
He glanced at his watch. "A hundred years exactly. It's the year 2-0-0-1-0-0." He scanned another part of the wall, noting the strange readings. "I was here before—Floor 139. The Satellite was broadcasting the news channels back then." He grinned, remembering that particular adventure—and the wedding that followed it.
He glanced up and noticed Lynda's expectant look. He cleared his throat and continued. "Had a bit of trouble upstairs. Nothing too serious. Easy. Gave them a hand, home in time for tea."
"A hundred years ago? What, you were here a hundred years ago?"
"Yep!" He went over to a door, and scanned it. He got the same unusual readings.
"You're looking good on it," Lynda said.
"I moisture." He played with the sonic a bit, trying to confirm the readings. "Funny sorts of readings. All kinds of energy. The place is humming. It's weird." He looked around, a sinking feeling in his chest. "This goes way beyond normal transmissions. What would they need all that power for?" He walked over to door, placing his hand on the scanner.
"I don't know. I think we're the first ever contestants to get outside."
The scanner didn't work, so he moved to sonicking the door. "My family was traveling with me. They must've got caught in the same transmat. Where would they be?"
"I don't know. They could've been allocated anywhere. There's a hundred different games."
"Like what?" A part of him didn't want to know. But he needed to know.
Lynda thought for a moment. "Well, there's ten floors of Big Brother. There's a different house behind each of those doors." She gestured to the other doors. "And then beyond that, there's all sorts of shows. It's nonstop. There's Call My Bluff—with real guns."
The Guardian could survive that.
"Countdown, where you've got thirty seconds to stop the bomb going off."
Easy.
"Ground Force, which is a nasty one. You get turned into compost."
That one was a bit concerning.
"Erm, Wipeout. Speaks for itself."
The Guardian could do it. She was trained to dodge lasers and energy bullets.
"Oh, and Stars In Their Eyes—literally, stars in their eyes. If you don't sing, you get blinded."
"And you watch this stuff?" The Doctor asked. Unbelievable. And Michael was trapped somewhere in there to—if he was even still alive. The Doctor flinched and forced himself to keep believing that he would find Michael, safe and sound.
Lynda shrugged. "Everyone does. How come you don't?"
"Never paid for my license."
Her eyes widened. "Oh, my god! You get executed for that."
He held up the sonic screwdriver and smirked. "Let them try."
"You keep saying things that don't make sense. Who are you though, Doctor? Really."
"It doesn't matter." He moved to the next door, to try that scanner.
"Well, it does to me. I've just put my life in your hands."
"I'm a traveler, wandering past. Believe it or not, all I'm after is a quiet life with my wife and our twins." He sighed when the door didn't work yet again. "But first of all, we've got to concentrate on the getting out. And to do that, you've got to know your enemy. Who's controlling it? Who's in charge of the satellite now?"
"Hold on."
The Doctor stepped away from the door to see Lynda move over to a light breaker. It illuminated a sign reading, Bad Wolf Corporation.
"Your lords and masters."
He stared at the words.
No. Not here. Not now.
GD~GD~GD~GD~
The Guardian had made it to Floor 299 went she ran into Jack. Literally.
"Guardian!" The man shouted in surprise.
"Shut up!" She hissed. "I haven't seen any security, but that doesn't mean much." Humans. Always missing the important but subtle details.
She glanced at the modified gun that he carried and nodded approvingly. "Have you found the Doctor and Michael?"
Jack gestured to the device on his wrist. "I should be able to scan for them if they're outside of the games. What about Gwyneth?" He asked as he proceeded to scan for the Doctor.
"She should still be in the TARDIS," the Guardian replied. That's what she hoped.
The device whirled.
"Two hearts!" Jack said. "I've got him!" He put his hand in the scanner cradle and the lift doors opened.
The Guardian stepped into the lift, now feeling desperate to hold her son again. When the lift doors opened again, she found that she could sense the Doctor once more. "Follow me. Be quiet."
She hurried through the floor, until she heard voices in another room. "This way." She pulled Jack into an observation room.
"History's gone wrong again." Her hearts spend up at the sound of the Doctor's voice. "This should be the Fourth Great and Bountiful Human Empire. I don't understand. Last time I was here I put it right."
The Guardian frowned, also not understanding.
The human girl beside him spoke. "No, but that's when it first went wrong. A hundred years ago, like you said. All the news channels, they just shut down overnight."
Now the Guardian winced. Of course…
"But that was me. I did that." The Doctor said.
"There was nothing left in their place. No information. The whole planet just froze. The government, the economy—they collapsed. That was the start of it. One hundred years of hell."
"I made this world."
The Guardian barely heard the Doctor, but she definitely sensed his guilt. "We made this world." She strode into the room, Jack following. "I of all people should have known that you can't take a society from subjugated to independent in one day without it collapsing."
"Guardian?" The Doctor whirled around.
The Guardian noticed his empty arms. "Doctor, where the hell is Michael?"
At the Doctor's stricken look, the Guardian's jaw tightened. Whoever stole her son was going to die. "We're going to Floor 500. That's the control room." She stormed out of the room, barely even noticing that the Doctor, Jack, and the human followed her. "The computer system is too complicated for a simple broadcaster. Something else is being transmitted from here."
The group crowded into the lift, the Guardian taking the front position. She pulled out a gun.
'Amadahy, don't.' She heard the Doctor plead in her head.
'Our son is in danger, Eltanin!'
She felt his hesitance, and she looked at him. 'What is it?'
'Amadahy…' He sighed. 'Be careful.'
She knew exactly what he meant. He was afraid for her, that she would break, or do something that she regretted. Even after all this time, he still didn't understand.
Regret came from letting a hot temper get the best of you. But after so many years of training, her temper wasn't like fire, as his was. No, her anger was ice—cold, calculating, patient. It was her pain that he needed to worry about.
Anger hadn't made the Weapon.
Pain did.
The lift doors opened. The Guardian strode out, guns up and ready.
Jack followed her. "Okay, move away from the desk!"
The staff moved to do exactly as Jack told them. The Guardian glanced around the room, taking special note of the woman who appeared to be wired into the computer. She was counting off numbers, her skin so pale it looked like she hadn't seen the sun in at least a couple of decades.
She lowered her guns, but didn't put them away. "Jack, secure the exits. There will be guards on the way up. Doctor, get inside the computers." She turned to the terrified staff. "There were four of us transmatted in. I want to know where the fourth is."
"There—there wasn't a fourth." A man spoke. He appeared to be the leader of the staff.
"What?" The Guardian asked coldly.
"I'm telling the truth! We didn't put you in the games; the computer did. There was only the three of you."
"And the computer is her?" The Guardian jerked her head at the woman.
"Yes! But she can't answer you!"
The Guardian raised an eyebrow, her glare prompting the man to continue.
"The Controller is linked to the transmissions. The entire output goes through her brain. You're not a member of staff, so she doesn't recognize your existence."
"Door's sealed." Jack called. "We should be safe for about ten minutes."
The Guardian jerked her head in a nod. "Thank you, Captain. Keep an eye on them."
The staff's leader spoke. "Um… sir, ma'am, that stuff you were saying about something going on with the Game Station, I think you're right. I've kept a log—unauthorized transmats, encrypted signals—it's been going on for years."
"Show the Doctor," the Guardian spoke, just as a woman yelled, "You're not allowed in there. Archive Six is out of bounds."
The Guardian turned to see Jack beside a door. He held up his makeshift gun. "Do I look like an out of bounds sort of guy?" He opened the door and stepped inside.
A moment later, "Doctor, Guardian! Come here!"
"Stay here," the Guardian said to the Doctor. She hurried over to the Archive, to find the TARDIS parked inside.
Jack was already at the monitor.
"Scan for life signals?" Perhaps the TARDIS had relocated Michael to keep him safe.
"Just us and Gwyneth." A smile flickered on Jack's face. "Gwyn's fine, just like you thought. She's still asleep."
The Guardian breathed a sigh of relief that her daughter was safe, only to tense again. Her son was still missing.
She grabbed the monitor/teleporter for Gwyneth and walked back outside, just as the Station's power dropped.
"Just the solar flares," the man said. "They interfere with the broadcast signal, so this place automatically powers down. Planet Earth gets a few repeats. It's all quite normal."
"Guardian."
The Guardian looked over at the Controller.
"Guardian? Guardian? Where's the Guardian?"
"I'm here." She walked closer, curious. How did this woman know her if what the staff claimed was true?
The Controller spoke quickly. "Can't see. I'm blind. So blind. All my life, blind. All I can see is numbers, but I saw you. Shining and golden."
"What do you want?" Her voice trembled a little with the dread that sped through her. Shining and golden. It sounded like her nightmares.
"Solar flares hiding me. They can't hear me. My masters, they always listen but they can't me now. The sun—the sun is so bright."
"Who are your masters?" The Guardian asked, flinching at the word.
"They wired my head. The name's forbidden. They control my thoughts. My masters. I had to be careful. They monitor transmissions but they don't watch the programmes. I could hide you and your companions inside the games. Knew that you would find me."
"Then where is my son?" She snapped.
"Doesn't matter."
The Guardian raised one of her guns again. "I'll ask again. Where. Is. My. Son?"
"They've been hiding. My masters, hiding in the dark space, watching and spacing the Earth—so…so...so many years. Always been there, guiding humanity. Hundreds and hundreds of years."
"Never mind them. Answer me!"
"They wait and plan and grown in numbers. They're strong now. So strong, my masters."
The Guardian sighed in frustration. Right now, she had no desire to lead a coup.
"But speak of you. My masters, they fear the Guardian."
Suddenly, the power came back on. The Controller resumed counting.
"Your son..." One of the female staff spoke. "How old is he?"
The Guardian turned to her as she replied, "A year."
The devastation on the staff's faces made her hearts beat faster. "I'm so sorry…but children never survive the transmat."
The Guardian stood in stunned silence for a moment. No. It wasn't possible. Her son couldn't be dead.
Suddenly, it was like her brain accepted the fact. "No!" She raised her gun and pointed it at the woman who had spoken.
Before she could pull the trigger, her hand was suddenly shoved upwards. The Doctor appeared directly in front of her, pulling her against him. She dropped her blaster and clung to his jacket, sobbing near-uncontrollably as she collapsed, the Doctor guiding her down. She heard the Doctor whispering her name in Gallifreyan, but she ignored him.
All the things that she had wanted to do with Michael… but now he was gone. Despite their careful life—the last week not withstanding—despite all their precautions, he was still dead.
What sort of guardian was she is she couldn't even keep her own children safe?
Then she heard Jack's voice, "Michael might still be alive!"
She pulled out of the Doctor's arms. "What?"
Jack grinned. "The TARDIS tracked Michael's transmat to a nearby area of space. She wasn't able to get full coordinates, but there's enough to figure out that there's something there. Hidden."
"He's alive?" The Guardian repeated, collapsing back against the Doctor.
"There's a chance." Jack cautioned.
"That's all we need." The Guardian pushed herself to her feet. "Everyone get to work. We're going to get the rest of those coordinates." The Controller's masters must be the ones that had Michael. It seemed that she was leading a revolution anyway. "My son is out there somewhere, and by Gallifrey, I'm going to find him."
"Guardian..." The Controller spoke. "Coordinates 5.6.1—"
"Don't!" The Doctor shouted. "The solar flare's gone. They'll hear you!"
"—.434. No, my masters, no! I defy you! Sigma 77..."
Suddenly, electricity sparked and the Controller disappeared with a scream and smoke.
"No!" The Guardian shouted. The woman could have given them the complete coordinates!
"They took her," the Doctor whispered.
An idea struck her. The Guardian whirled around to face the staff member who had done most of the talking earlier. "You—you said that you kept a record of unauthorized transmats."
He nodded stiffly.
"Show the Captain. Jack, you might find the final numbers in there."
Jack and the staff member hurried off to do just that.
"And no flirting!" She shouted after them.
The Guardian paced as she waited, until the Doctor came over and pulled her into his arms. "I just checked on Gwyneth. She's still sleeping."
She smiled thinly.
"We'll get Michael back, Guardian. I promise."
But in what condition? One of her nightmares flashed in her memory. The one of her holding her dead son before he was snatched away from her.
"Guardian! Doctor!" Jack shouted. "I've got something!"
Hand-in-hand, the Gallifreyans ran over to join Jack, two staff members, and the blonde.
"The transmat delivers to that point, right on the edge of the solar system." An image of empty space came up on the larger holo-screen.
"There's nothing there." The female staff member, the one who had tried to keep Jack out of the Archive, spoke.
"It looks like nothing because that's what this satellite does." The Guardian replied, understanding dawning. "Underneath the transmission, there's another signal."
"Doing what?"
"Hiding whatever's out there," the Doctor said. "Hiding it from sonar, radar, scanner. There's something sitting right on top of planet Earth, but it's completely invisible." He bent over the computer and began typing. "If I cancel the signal..."
The Guardian stiffened when a very familiar looking ship appeared. The Doctor straightened, reaching for her hand again. The image pulled out, revealing many, many more ships.
"That's impossible," Jack breathed. "I know those ships. They were destroyed!"
"Obviously they survived." The Doctor replied weakly.
The Guardian squeezed his hand, even though she knew it wouldn't help. After everything, they were back.
"Who did?" The blonde human asked. "Who are they?"
"Two hundred ships," the Guardian counted. "More than two thousand on board each one. That's just about a half a million of them."
This was even worse than her nightmares.
"Half a million what?"
"Daleks," the Guardian spat.
Her son was surrounded by Daleks.
The holoscreen's view changed. Three Daleks surrounded Michael, who sat on the floor of the ship. He had clearly been crying for a while, if his heaving shoulders were any indication. The Guardian tried to lunge forward, the Doctor pulling her back by wrapping his arms around her waist. She could feel him shaking.
How had she not felt Michael's distress? Her maternal telepathic bond should have enabled her to keep in contact with him no matter what.
Unless the game rooms weren't the only places shielded?
~"I will talk to the Doctor and the Guardian."~
"What makes you think we want to talk?" The Doctor replied coldly.
~"The Dalek stratagem nears completion. The fleet is almost ready. You will not intervene."~
"Oh, really?" The Guardian hissed. "What makes you so certain?"
~"We have the young Time Lord. You will both obey, or he will be exterminated."~
"Harm my son and I will burn your world."
At her cold proclamation, everyone but the Doctor leaned slightly away from her. She didn't even have to look at them to know that they were frightened. Even Jack. But for once, she didn't care.
~"Threats are meaningless. You will obey."~
"No." The Guardian replied simply. These Daleks should know better than to play power games with her.
~"What is the meaning of this negative?"~
"It means no." The Doctor affirmed.
~"But he will be destroyed!"~ The Daleks almost seemed frantic now.
"No!" The Doctor shouted. "Because this is what we're going to do—we're going to rescue our son. The Guardian and I are going to rescue him from the middle of the Dalek fleet. And then we're going to save the Earth. And then, just to finish off, we're going to wipe every last stinking Dalek out of the sky!"
~"But you have no weapons! No defenses! No plan!"~
"But he's got me." The Guardian smiled darkly. "I've killed millions of your kind. Half a million should be easy. You just threatened the life of my son. Big mistake."
In Gallifreyan, she added, "Wesen? Everything's going to be okay. Maiteria and Paitare will be there soon."
The Doctor cut off the transmission.
GD~GD~GD~GD~
Just one more chapter! Are you guys freaking out yet? Next chapter, I'll be posting the description of The Tale of Two Time Lords and An Immortal, and also about when you can be looking forward to it.
Next time: Here comes the Bad Wolf...
Notes on Reviews:
Ronin Kenshin: Nine was Mr. Grumpy. He just was. Granted, he had a reason to be—he just had to destroy his entire planet and people because of a war that could have been prevented if he had followed the orders given to him back in his fourth incarnation and destroyed the Daleks. Still, I've had a lot of fun writing him as a happier person, bringing forward traits that are only hinted at in the series. That will actually be a thing that I keep on doing—I wonder what side of Ten I'll be highlighting?
NicoleR85: I can say that Mickey will not be a companion, though he will be present in the next book. It's mostly going to be following Series 3, though a few episodes of Series 2 will appear in the beginning.