Enlisting

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The wind swirled around Rassilon in the throne room. He straightened up as the functionaries around him staggered back. The sound of it warped into the room. That hellish screeching. His lips curled into a bemused smile. He knew that sound, an old Type 40 time capsule. He didn't realize that any had survived to this era. Rassilon's hands curled around the edges of the throne's armrests. Klaxons started to blare as soldiers in red armor flooded into the room encircling the materializing capsule, the light on the top of it flashing in time with the asthmatic wheezing of the ancient machine.

The box finally willed itself into existence with a final heaving push like that of a giant marine mammal forcing itself upon the beach, and then as if with one final grunt announcing to everyone its surprised success at beaching itself a gong rung out from within the capsule. Rassilon stood up as the door opened. He took a step down the dais towards the capsule as the pilot stepped out. He smirked looking at the pilot. The soldiers lifted their pistols to the pilot. The pilot looked at the guns and then to back to Rassilon and quirked an eyebrow.

"You have to excuse them, unauthorized materialization into the Presidential Chambers is an unprecedented act." Rassilon said quietly lifting his hand and instructing the soldiers to lower their arms. "Especially when the pilot refuses to respond to hails."

"Apologies but my TARDIS is…particular." the pilot said looking at the soldiers. He was young looking, youthful even, but his eyes, they were ancient eyes, cold, war-weary. His hair was curly, thin, shoulder length. He was wearing a loose-fitting green jacket. A bolero was clipped around his chest. "Communications system doesn't work right, and the helmic regulator has always been a bit, wonky, and then the Mercury links….well, the less said."

"I rather doubt this was an accident." Rassilon replied, still smirking, still appraising the pilot.

"I'll admit to having the penchant for astonishing entry." the pilot said shrugging.

"It is astonishing." Rassilon replied. "We've been looking for you for centuries, only for you to finally show up on our front door after so many years of hiding and running. Finally willing to face the music, Lord Doctor?"

"That man died on Karn." the pilot said, frowning. He narrowed his eyes. "I'm what remains. I've come here for a very specific purpose." The pilot reached into his jacket, clearly grabbed for something. He pulled it quickly from his jacket, prompting the soldiers to quickly re-draw their guns pointing them at the pilot. The pilot stopped, freezing slightly as folded slip of paper in his hand. He slowly passed a gaze over the group of soldiers. "I have come to enlist."

"Is that so?" Rassilon said, he looked to one of the soldiers and nodded towards the slip of paper.

"You can check yourself, I believed I've filled out all the slots." the pilot said quietly. "But I've never been one to do paperwork."

The soldier handed the paper over to Rassilon. Rassilon looked at it. A smile played across his face. "It just says 'this is me, enlisting'."

"Is that not enough then?" the pilot asked, looking disappointed. "I shan't go through all that rigmarole. With camp and training. I have experience. I'm clever, and I want to see this war come to an end."

"Finally? After all this time?" Rassilon looked back to the pilot. "Where were you in the Battle of Kasar-nil-tovem? A hundred thousand Time Lords were slaughtered? Or the fight for the Meter's Length? Why did you not report as summoned? You forsook your responsibilities. You expect clemency now? For what reason should I not have you executed here and now, for desertion!?"

"I had a conscious objection to the war." the pilot said. "I had hoped that it would be something that would disappear on its own. I was afraid that my entering into the conflict would only make it that much worse. You undoubtedly know how this will play out now that I'm involved."

"And whilst you hid away with your conscience how many died?" Rassilon asked, narrowing his eyes. "How many worlds suffered under Dalek rule? How many vampires wormed their way into existence? How many of your fellow Time Lords were murdered in the name of your conscience!?"

The pilot took a breath. He lifted his arms and turned his back to Rassilon and the soldiers.

"Then kill me, if that will make you feel better." the pilot said.

"That won't be necessary." Rassilon replied finally smiling. "No, indeed killing you would be a mistake." Rassilon walked up to the pilot. The pilot turned and Rassilon smiled at him. "Our Lord, Doctor, returned to us. Back home where you belong." Rassilon hugged the pilot close. "It is a great day indeed."

Rassilon turned and waved away the soldiers.

"All is forgiven then?" the pilot asked.

"I think you'll find that my reputation is gravely overstated." Rassilon said.

"So then, I will be able to talk to Romana then?" the pilot asked.

"The Lady Romanadvoretrelundar is gone, unfortunately." Rassilon replied quietly. "Missing, she unfortunately chose to abscond with her allies when her presidency…ended. I have not been able to locate her."

"I see…" the pilot said walking behind Rassilon as he took a step up onto the dais and turned, sitting on his throne.

"We will of course have a new TARDIS commissioned for you." Rassilon said as he threaded his fingers together and looked to the pilot. He looked to the box behind the pilot. "And we'll have that one properly decommissioned and it's parts repurposed to the war effort."

"Ah, I see…" the pilot said turning and looking back at the blue box standing in the middle of the throne room. "That's completely unnecessary of course, I couldn't possibly ask you to..."

"I insist, we can't have you going into war in that museum piece. And we could use the resources." Rassilon said. "Plus you just admitted that it's unreliable, no?"

"She's a bit temperamental, yes, but she's never been unreliable." the pilot responded, he continued to look lovingly on the blue box. "In fact I trust her more than your newfangled models. I'm a bit…partial to her, actually."

"How quaint…" Rassilon said, his eyes narrowing, "but unfortunately, I can't allow you to fly in that."

"I hate to be insistent but I simply can't let her go." The pilot said as he walked back to the blue box. "I guess you could say it's one of the terms of my enlistment."

"Terms?" Rassilon frowned. "That's not how this works!"

"Oh, is it not?" the pilot said. "You see, I think I've proven quite capable of escaping you and your search parties. So, unless you want me to disappear again into the night, I have some points of order before I start taking orders from you. First, I keep my TARDIS, second I get a small group of soldiers and third I have a level of autonomy to engage the Daleks as I see fit."

"Absolutely not!" Rassilon growled, standing up, glaring at the pilot. "I am the Lord President you will do as I SAY! YOU WILL OBEY ME!"

"Ah-" the pilot said quietly. He put his hand on the capsule door. "You see that's really non-negotiable. I've never been the kind to take orders. I don't work well inside of a hierarchy. Well, I suppose this is goodbye…."

"Wait!" Rassilon narrowed his eyes. The pilot stopped and looked at Rassilon expectantly. "I will give you latitude on how to carry out the missions I assign for you. You will be given the opportunity to pick and choose whom you take with you on said missions…"

"And?" The pilot turned and looked to Rassilon.

Rassilon's nose flared as he glared at the pilot. "And….you…can keep your time capsule." Rassilon stood straight. "But you go where I send you! You accomplish the goals I set for you! I choose your missions!"

The pilot seemed to mull this for a few moments. "That's an acceptable arrangement for however long it lasts. Deal."

"Indeed." Rassilon replied as he glowered down at the pilot. The pilot fished into his jacket and produced a small box. He tossed it to Rassilon.

"That is for when you want me, I assume you know how to operate one…" the pilot said. "You did invent it after all, if the legend is correct that is." The pilot opened the door of his time capsule. "Once I get the summons I'll be back for the details."

"Where are you going now!? I have not given you permission to…." Rassilon fumed angrily, but the door of the capsule slammed shut. Rassilon lifted his arm as a wind blew up from the capsule and those grinding engines screamed to life and the box started to fade away. Rassilon roared angrily. "Doctor! Come back here immediately!"

The vessel was gone, so was the pilot. Rassilon growled and glared at the box in his hand. He thought at the box and then threw it into the air and it popped out of existence. So the renegade wanted to play games, Rassilon narrowed his eyes, he knew how to play games. He invented the game.

888

AN: Yeah rare I do direct sequels after each other. But this didn't fit in the previous chapter and I have for a while mulled this initial interaction. Characterizations are kinda tricky on this one…but I think I got what I wanted…Some may ask why I use the nondescript word 'pilot'…rather than something else in reference to the 'War Doctor' in this chapter. Eh, it's a stylistic 3rd person omniscient fakery choice that the War Doctor isn't the Doctor (yet) and we don't have a name. So even though this is ostensibly from Rassilon's point of view the universe still perceives the difference and refuses to give the satisfaction of a proper title.