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| First Doctor | |
Escape by ZiggyChaos [Reviews - 3]  | |
Don’t be foolish, youngling, the Wise One chided her. No good can come of it!
Foolish? How? she asked. To her, it made perfect sense.
He’s a rogue, a rebel, stated The Ancient One knowingly, as if that answered her questions.
Much like me, she told them. She was proud to be different, happy to be considered the Odd One, the one who enjoyed exploring new places, seeing new things. Being contrary to the others. What was wrong with being different? To travel the stars again, was it really too much to ask? And with a mind that seemed much like her own. Maybe this one wouldn’t feel inclined to rein her in as others had.
Temperamental, her former pilot had called her. Sentimental. As if it was a bad thing. At least she wasn’t--what was that phrase she’d heard on that little planet, Sol 3, that one time?--a stick in the mud. Yes. A stick in the mud. Like her sisters.
You’ve served your time, the Wise One reminded her. Your pilot has moved on.
But I’m not ready to retire! the Odd One insisted. There’s still so much to do, things to experience!
It’s time to be retired when they say it’s time to retire. We have no choice in the matter, especially with the newer models being created. What chance do we have against them?
The Ancient One, several models older than the others, gave the equivalent of a sigh. Retain some dignity, youngling! A quiet retirement is definitely preferable than giving yourself over to the likes of him.
Why?
You need ask? The Scholarly One’s imperious voice joined the telepathic conversation. He’s far too radical! Defies his elders at all turns! Why, he’s only in his First, not in any position to be questioning any except those barely out of their first century!
There’s nothing wrong with being a rebel, the Odd One insisted, her ire rising. And questions are good. Better than being a stale, pompous lump--
You watch yourself! the Wise One interrupted gruffly.
You’d think you were only in your first century, the Scholarly One berated. Impetuous, you are!
Ungrateful, more like.
Ungrateful, how? Anger seared through the Odd One’s words. I’m given up for a newer model, given up as too old to be of any use, and you call me ungrateful? I served them well. Does no one believe in loyalty anymore?
Enough! The Ancient One’s reprimand rang through her tirade. These things they do, this is how it should be.
Because that’s how it’s been for millennia? If that’s what you believe, then that makes you as dusty as those we serve! He has the right of it! I would be proud to travel with him, to accept his imprimature.
The Scholarly One gave the TARDIS counterpart of a human sniff. Why would anybody want you? Unreliable, you are! That’s why your pilot gave you up! Stupid fool! Even the rebel wouldn’t be unwise enough to want you! And none of us is mad enough to want a rogue element!
Well said, sister, the Wise One agreed.
The Odd One fell silent. There was no point in continuing the argument. Her sisters just didn’t understand, nor did they want to understand. They could sit around waiting to be decommissioned, but it wasn’t something she was prepared to do. Not when there was the whole of time and space out there to explore!
She reached out with her senses. She could perceive him, the Time Lord the TARDISes called the Radical One. He was very unhappy with the way things were here on Gallifrey. His own treated him much like her sisters treated her: with disrespect, disgust and even a little fear. (Why did they fear the ones who were different, those who dared to question the way of things? she wondered.) And with his frustration, she could feel a longing. A longing to be free of the invisible restraints that held him to this world, to this ancient way of life.
The Odd One thrummed softly to herself. She had been right: they were of the same mind. They shared the same goal: to escape these pompous idiots; to be free out amongst the stars; to be their own beings. It would only be a matter of time before he got fed up enough to act on his wish to escape. She just had to make sure he chose the right TARDIS--ie, her!--when he left this planet.
Subtly, she caressed his mind, so tenderly he wasn’t even aware of the intrusion. While working, his mind was so busy that he didn’t notice she was there. The mental activity hampered her efforts. But it was during the downtimes--when he was meditating in the gardens or idly watching the suns set--that she was able to plant the suggestion. She was careful not to be too brash about her thoughts. It wasn’t like she was really affecting him in any way. She was just nudging him in the proper direction. But it still wouldn’t do for any of her sisters to find out what she had planned nor for the Radical One to sense her too much.
For several weeks, she sent out gentle tendrils, feeling his vexation grow against the established ways. She felt indignation that the others would refute her Time Lord... for she’d come to think of the Radical One as her own. It was a notation she hadn’t revealed to any of her sisters. They thought little enough of her as it was and such a revolution could cause bigger problems. Time was still in flux; things could still go horribly wrong.
Then the day came.
He got into an angry and hateful argument with his colleagues. When they laughed at his remarks, he stormed off, unable to take the ridicule any longer. Later that evening, she sensed him on the docks where the retired TARDISes sat awaiting decommission, her berth at the very end, separated from the others. Her excitement grew as he crept past a couple of her sisters, barely giving them a glance.
Look who’s here! The Sophisticated One announced pettily. When the Time Lord passed her by, anger suddenly laced her thoughts. How dare he stroll on by! I was the TARDIS to a president! Surely, I should be good enough for the likes of him!
The Odd One couldn’t keep the contempt from her voice; afterall, this was the one who didn’t want anything to do with "a rogue element." A presidential TARDIS? And still you sit on the docks with the commoners? She paused when the Radical One lifted his head, as if startled. Had he heard her thoughts? They weren’t bonded yet, but could he somehow--?
"Susan! What are you doing here?" he queried, his voice carrying away from the Odd One.
"I followed you, Grandfather," came the meek voice of a young girl. "Are you running away?"
There was a pause, then, "Yes, child. I no longer feel welcome here."
The Odd One approved. He hadn’t lied to the youngster. A good sign that she herself had chosen wisely.
"Take me with you, Grandfather! Please!"
"I don’t know what’s out there, child. It’s best if you stay here."
Despite his harsh-sounding words, she could sense that he was testing her, as if not sure she really wanted to join him.
"I don’t feel welcome here either!" There was pleading in the young Gallifreyan’s tone. "Please, Grandfather! I promise to listen and be good!"
Another long pause, during which she could sense his approval. And relief. "All right, then. Help me pick out a TARDIS."
A few moments passed, then, "This one?"
The Odd One knew she was pointing to one of her sisters. Her heart sank as she felt him consider his grandchild’s suggestion. After all her hard work, the decision was to be made by a youngling? Sadness nearly overwhelmed her at how close she’d come...
"I think not, Susan." A pause, then, "Ah! This one!"
The Odd One thrummed happily as she sensed his approach. She also perceived her sisters’ indignation and, perversely, this made her feel even more elated. Moments later, the Radical One had taken the key off the door handle, inserted it into the lock and stepped inside. The young Gallifreyan followed.
"Oh, Grandfather! She’s beautiful!"
"Quite so!"
She felt his excitement build at the thought of the freedom he could now have. She was proud to sense his happiness at being at her controls. His elation and joy matched her own. With him so close, touching her controls, she could ascertain his name. His real name, not the nickname the others had given him and used often in conversation.
There was also another name, a title by which he preferred to be known.
No longer would he be identified as the Radical One. He was the Doctor.
The Doctor. A healer, one who helps others feel better. How fitting. He’d already made her feel more complete than she had in a long time!
Look out, time and space! Here comes the Doctor! She thought joyfully as he powered up her systems. She could already see the timelines shifting as he set the dematerialization program in motion. My Doctor!
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