The verdict had not gone down well on many sides. After a long, gruelling set of proceedings, the Doctor had been sentenced to have his timeline locked for a period of a thousand years. Whilst he would be granted his freedom after, and reunite easily with his direct family, he would be unable to visit any of his human (or like) friends before their times had come to an end. His current favoured centuries of Earth culture would be totally inaccessible. In the meantime he was to be confined in a specially made prison, one long planned by an organisation known as the Order of the Silence, one set only to open after a millennium had passed. This seemed ridiculously reasonable to the High Council – a thousand years was nothing in the grand scheme of the universe and would give them ample time to rebuild without fear of the Doctor’s interference. Considering the scale of his crimes, to allow him freedom after this time period was, to them, a sheer blessing. Even to XI’s enemies it would have seemed a pathetic sentence – to awake in an instant to reunite with his family, having experienced no passage of time.
To the majority of his other friends, however, this would be devastating. His daughter would grow up without a father and Amy would be long gone unless they chose to leave everything behind and travel with X and Felix to the future. Friends would be dust or likely regenerated in the case of Time Lords (unless they too chose to hop ahead in time). Some would perhaps even forget him. XI would never make a friend in the 21st century ever again.
Greeting the day with a solemn face, XI submitted to his hands being placed in magnetic cuffs and began the long walk to the Panopticon chamber where the Pandorica awaited. It did not have to be a long walk, with transmat technology so readily available, but it was a key moment in Time Lord history – the Doctor, the coward and destroyer of reality, escorted to confinement. With Rassilon sealed again in the Dark Tower, and he in the Pandorica, Gallifrey would rise again.
In the central chamber of the Panopticon, the Chancellery Guard activated the renowned Pandorica, preparing it for its prisoner. What they did not expect was that the perfect stasis chamber was already inhabited and by something impossible. The Guard looked on in horror as the creature inside came to life and gave them its one-eyed stare.
Halfway along one of the Citadel’s lengthy courtyards the procession stopped, sirens and communication networks screaming their terror. Panic was written across the faces of every Time Lord, Gallifreyan or otherwise. All except their prisoner. He was simply stunned.
I destroyed them. All of them. Someone knew what I was going to do and protected it, kept it out of the reach of the Bad Wolf. His thoughts turned to scorn at the behaviour of his fellows. Seriously? A billion years’ span of a Time War and this city falls apart because of one Dalek? How fucked are they?
But soon enough XI remembered to stay his tongue. One Dalek was always enough, especially inside the Citadel.
“Who is in charge here?” he called out to the assembly. “Who rules the High Council?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Lady Shen stepped forward. “I do.”
Naturally he was surprised. Suddenly her struggles within the court made sense – to keep a cool head throughout the aggressions of XI’s associates and conceal her true authority must have been overwhelming. “You are Lady President?”
“No, there has been no President since Rassilon was deposed, only Chancellor. No one has been deemed appropriate during the years of restabilisation.”
“Right, okay, what’s the plan of action, Lady Chancellor? I can’t very well be stuffed in a box when it’s being hogged by a Dalek.”
“It’s been sealed in the Panopticon while the Chancellery work out how to deal with it. The Dalek is resistant to our stasers and it won’t be long before it finds its way out of the chamber’s defences, or worse, it could be after the Eye. It should be impossible to access but there’s no telling what it has planned.”
“You have no weapons that can neutralise a Dalek?”
Shen scowled. “We are survivors, Doctor, pulling our people out of a dark age no thanks to your actions under Rassilon. Our armouries were exhausted and power barely restored. We have remained hidden so long that we have focused on very little with regard to military action. This is the first true enemy we have faced in centuries, our worst enemy. Every Time Lord experienced enough to protect our society at the level of war has either been killed or incarcerated.”
XI gave an oddly sadistic little laugh. “Oh, dear, you really are screwed, aren’t you?”
“Doctor,” Shen said sharply.
“I’m going to regret this,” he sighed. Shen looked at him with puzzlement. XI broke away from his guards, not at any great speed, simply finding the highest ground of the courtyard – the wall of a fountain, which he strongly hoped he would not fall into at this pivotal moment. Stasers aimed at him, his hands still bound, the renowned Time Lord addressed the crowd.
“Gathered citizens and council members of Gallifrey, I claim the inheritance once belonging to Rassilon. I claim the title, honour, duty and obedience of all colleges. I claim the Presidency of the Council of the Time Lords.”
There was an outcry of gasps, confused and indignant voices. Loud among them was Lady Shennadraxun.
“You really are insane,” she spat.
“Am I really?” XI went on. “By the sounds of it I’m the only Time Lord left that’s qualified to deal with your problem. People across the planet fear my name and I have become steeped in myth. You want a way to keep me in line and the best way to do that is to have me at the centre, watching my every move, tugging at my strings, not locking me up in a cage. Have you ever heard of anything that’s been able to hold me? Can you even guarantee the Pandorica would? Does anyone else on this planet – who isn’t raving concepts of immortality – ·have a fraction of the knowledge of Presidency that I do? Reinstate my position, Shennadraxun, and I will not only deal with the Dalek, but I will help Gallifrey find its feet.” He gave the crowd a stern glare, hoping enough council members were in attendance. “Decide, and decide quickly.”
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A short while later, and having assured his family he knew what he was doing, XI ventured inside the Panopticon alone. He took a personal shield with him but – unlike the one he had stashed aboard the TARDIS – he did not believe it would protect him from a Dalek’s gun. Instead, he counted on something else, something very risky. It had to be, didn’t it? It took a good quarter of an hour to cross the vast halls until at last he reached the chamber where the Pandorica loomed. If it hadn’t been designed to lock him away, he would have loved to admire its beauty.
For a moment he considered that the Dalek had found a way to break out, finding no trace of it, but then – the shiver of dread passed through him and he sensed its presence at last. Evidently the Dalek’s scans had picked him up, too.
“YOU CAN-NOT HIDE, TIME LORD.”
“I’m not hiding,” XI called from behind a metal pillar. “I’m using the environment to my advantage. I don’t have my own wheelie bin, thanks.”
“YOU AND YOUR RACE WILL BE EX-TER-MINATED NOW THAT YOUR CIT-A-DEL IS PEN-E-TRATED.”
“You’re a bit late to the party, I’m afraid. See, I wiped you both out. Twice, actually. For a genocidal maniac, I’m not very effective, it seems, because here we are.”
“Come on, you can work it out, Dalek. Aren’t you afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?”
The Dalek’s voice became shrill. “I-DENTIFY.”
XI stepped into the Dalek’s view, prepared to leap out of its line of fire at any moment, but remaining calm for the time being. “Hello, Dalek. Guess who.”
There was a whirring noise as the lone Dalek backed off. “DOC-TOR. YOU ARE MY GREATEST EN-EMY.”
“Yes, I am, but you know what? You’re not mine. The time of the Daleks is over. The time of the Last Great Time War is finished, and I will not let you revive it. Are you not tired, citizen of Skaro?”
“YES,” the Dalek admitted.
XI smiled, but it was not particularly kind.
“BUT YOU WILL BE EX-TER-MINATED!”
The Doctor held up his hand. “Ah, see, I thought you might say that, so before you get on with it, I have something important to tell you, some advice from the Predator to his killer, advice I learned from a very old friend and teacher of mine, Lord Borusa.”
The Dalek’s eye-stalk and weapons twitched inquisitively, waiting for him to continue.
Projecting his voice, allowing it to echo throughout the Panopticon, XI boomed out, “There is nothing more useless than a Time Lord against a Dalek!”
A wave of energy burst out from the floor of the enormous hall and swept up and out through the ceiling. The Dalek’s weapons sparked and the mutant screamed inside its shell. XI sighed and sauntered over to the Dalek, its gunstick and arm flailing pathetically.
“Do you know how fortunate you are? That could have killed you. Years ago when that was installed, someone in a compassionate mood tweaked its settings. Your weapons will never work again, your self-repair is disabled, your mobility is no longer automatic -,” he dragged the Dalek around in a merry dance by its arms, “you are to all intents and purposes, castrated. But I won’t kill you, no. One day, sweetheart, I might have use for you. For now, back in the box you go.” The Dalek wailing at his fingertips, XI trundled it back inside the Pandorica and sealed it up.
And the Time Lord groaned at the life that lay before him.
“Happy Birthday, Mr President.”
