In all honesty he should have come to expect this kind of scenario from a jaunt in the TARDIS with XI. Trouble, it seemed, followed the Doctor through every strand of his life and the impulsive younger Gallifreyan had been only too keen to partake in a little of it himself. He was, after all, very good with locked doors.
In hindsight, sneaking aboard another vessel as part of their ‘mildly exciting’ trip could have been done with more thorough scans beforehand. They had managed to get admirably far before the inevitable capture but compared to the Doctor his own courage was already failing him. This wasn’t by any means Theta’s first time off-world from Gallifrey (and neither was it his first arrest), but he had never found himself in such a directly life-threatening scenario before. Where smart remarks and threats often served him well, the unarmed youngster had found himself devoid of all speech. Keeping behind XI, eyes darting for any opportunity, he had seen no easy escape and failed to react in time when a pulse pistol pressed against his neck. He stared back at the unnerving visage of the stranger in stunned silence, mouth half-open; his only other reaction was to grimace when the Doctor so readily complied. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I’m not a bargaining chip.
At the very least they had not been shot on sight. It was enough to bolster his shaken confidence and, coupled with the thorough search, provided enough time to reassess the situation and reorganise his thoughts. Their element of surprise had been stolen and returned in kind, and the Doctor had already showed his hand insofar as his weakness went; that meant potentially bad news for himself, regardless of what he could have bluffed. As far as he could see, their best option was to find out to what extent of trouble they were in, weather the immediate consequences and escape at the first opportunity they could seize. He kept his mouth conspicuously closed for the duration of their transport, though his gaze continued to wander, taking note of every access panel, entry point and security system he could see.
By the time they were sealed in the cell, effectively left alone with the unusually-clad stranger, Theta had managed to re-inflate his ego and opted to answer first. Later he would justify it as buying the Doctor more time to think; in all honesty he just couldn’t resist blurting the first, stupid response which came to mind. “What were we thinkin’? I think the better question’d be what the hell are you thinking wearing that? I’m not being funny, okay, ‘cause I saw none of your other men wearin’ that…look…so what, is it just somethin’ you’re really into or is it a punishment or..?”
This was exactly the sort of trouble XI really did not need to get them both into, so naturally it was bound to happen. His sonic screwdriver, blaster and communication/teleportation device (in the form of a modified vortex manipulator) had been confiscated. The most potent technology they were left with were the protective anti-artron vests they wore beneath their visible layers. It was likely they would absorb the energy from a pulse weapon, indeed they were prototypes from a garment capable of withstanding the pressures of a black hole, but when it came to point-blank range and multiple sources XI was not keen on risking their lives.
At his young companion’s brash response, the Doctor grabbed his arm and clapped a hand briefly over Theta’s mouth to hush him. He did not particularly apologise for what had been said, however, dangerous as it was.
“We meant no offense on coming here. We’re explorers and technological enthusiasts. I admit our method of arrival from place to place has on occasion been perceived as impolite but I assure you, had I been aware of the best place to check in at reception, that’s where we would have parked.”
Save for an annoyed flick of his eyes, Scorpius chose to ignore the remark about his wardrobe. He’d grown well accustomed to mockery from fellow Peacekeepers-- short-sighted fools who resorted to schoolyard politics to mask their own INSECURITIES. He saw the insult for what it was: a boy who was scared and trying desperately to mask his fear.
It was ineffective, of course. They both REEKED of it.
He turned his attention to the elder of the pair instead. He seemed to be the more sensible-- if not more intelligent-- one. If there was any reasoning to be done, it would be with him. Perhaps it would even serve him to separate the two-- keep the younger stashed away as a bargaining chip to ensure the compliance of the elder. But a plan like that could easily backfire; he would test them first, see just how DESPERATE they were.
“And what gave you the impression that my command carrier was open to receiving guests?” His smooth accent grew frayed with annoyance; steely gaze locked onto the Doctor’s and refused to withdraw. “This is a military vessel operated by the Peacekeepers; the only TECHNOLOGY of interest here is weaponry. I must surmise, therefore, that your intentions are ultimately hostile and your pacifist entreaty is a facade hastily rendered in response to your capture.”
He paused, slowly turning his head to regard the younger of the pair. If they were indeed saboteurs-- a suspicion of which he was not wholly convinced-- then it was foolhardy to come aboard together with an emotional attachment. But criminals were rarely strategic in their undertakings; they were creatures of desperation, reacting to chance rather than ACTING upon it. And that was what made this situation easy to manipulate.
“Is there any reason-- any reason at all-- why I shouldn’t have both of you EXECUTED?”
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