Archive of Our Own ^beta

High Crimes

A Doctor Who Story

 

Jothan woke in the morning and jumped out of bed, he was so excited.  He dressed hurriedly and downed a quick breakfast, hardly able to concentrate.  Today was going to be a big day for him.  It was his birthday, and the Doctor had promised to tell the medic his name as a present.  He had waited so long to be trusted with that gift, and now the time had come—if the Time Lord remembered.  The medic resolved not to bring it up; if the Doctor wanted to share his name it would not be as the result of a guilt trip or begging.  Jothan had his pride, after all.

The Doctor was not in the Console Room when Jothan got there.  He waited, though it was difficult to sit still.   He wondered what was keeping the Time Lord, but refused to act like a ten-year-old and go in search of him.  He looked over the console controls and saw that they were in the Vortex, so the Time Lord was somewhere on the TARDIS.  Jothan thought of asking the ship where its pilot was, but refrained.  The Doctor would come eventually; he just had to be patient. 

It was two hours before the Doctor entered the Console Room.  He was whistling, and seemed to be in an especially good mood.  “So, where are we off to today?  I was thinking of Disingojedisis, during the fourth Great Schism.  A rather scholarly culture, and many scientific achievements as well.”

Jothan tried to hide his great disappointment.  The Doctor had forgotten entirely, it seemed.  “Wherever you think is best,” he mumbled.  

“Yes, that's the place for today.  An intellectual challenge for you.  Stretch your brain a bit.  After all, you're not getting any younger, and keeping the brain occupied is the best way to prevent dementia from setting in . . .”  The Doctor grinned.

“I'm hardly a candidate for assisted living yet!”  Jothan snapped.

“Really?  Well, best to head these things off.  Besides, I'm sure they can give you help on the precise meanings and nuances of my name . . . not that you can share it with them, of course.”

Jothan's eyes lighted.  “You didn't forget?”

The Time Lord came over and whispered in Jothan's ear.  Jothan frowned, then said the ten syllables out loud carefully, trying to repeat them exactly.  “Did I get it right?”

The Doctor beamed.  “Nearly right.  Try it again.”  He said his name again, louder this time.

Jothan said it three more times aloud, then ran it over in his head so he wouldn't forget.  “And what do I call you when we're alone?”

“You can choose.  On Gallifrey, I was called 'Theta' until I went to Earth.”

Jothan shook his head slowly.  “I'd rather we had something different, with fewer memories attached to it.  What about . . . Gantoris?”  It was the first three syllables of the Doctor's name.

The Doctor smiled softly.  “I like how you say that,” he agreed.

“Then that's what I'll call you.  So, what's this planet called again?”

“ Disingojedisis?”  the Doctor shrugged.  “Some other time, perhaps; that was just a joke.  I was really going to take you to Yamexibon.  They have excellent doctors for you to compare notes with, and we can stock up on medical supplies there; they're not picky about what one buys as long as the purchaser can use the stuff correctly.  Oh, and this is for you as well.”  

He took a small box out of his pocket and handed it to the medic.  Jothan opened it, and found a sonic screwdriver inside.  “Where did you get this?” he asked in amazement.

“Got it on Madria a long time ago.”  The Doctor grinned again.  “I'll have to teach you how to use it; it can be tricky to find the setting you want at first.”

Jothan examined the screwdriver thoughtfully.  “How many settings does it have?”

“Only twenty-four.  It's a basic model, not as complicated as mine or with the modifications I've made, but it does double as a ball-point pen.  So, want to take it for a test-drive?”  The Doctor bounced on his feet a bit.

“Twenty-four settings will be more than enough for me, I assure you,” Jothan told the Time Lord.  “Thank you very much.”  

He reached to hug the Time Lord, but just then something started blinking on one of the console screens.  The Doctor looked over and sighed.  “Mauve Alert.  It's a planetary distress beacon originating from Rensica Prime.  I'm not sure if we should go or not . . .”

Jothan looked over at the Time Lord sharply.  “Since when do we turn down people in need?” he asked.  “If they want help . . .”

“Put it this way—the Rensicans aren't likely to want my help.  They were decimated in the Time War; barely anyone made it out alive and the planet itself was badly scarred.  They blamed the Time Lords for their trouble, and if they find out I am one, it could get nasty.”

“If they're desperate enough to ask for help, they can't afford to be choosy,” the medic observed.  Besides, it's not like the Time War was your fault.  They should be blaming the Daleks, not you.  Are we going or aren't we?  They need us . . .”  

“I suppose we must; none of the other planets in the solar system have space travel, and any other aid is likely to come too late.  Now, let's see exactly where the signal is coming from . . .”

************  

In no time the Doctor and Jothan were on the surface of the planet.  They had materialized about a quarter mile from where the beacon originated in order to keep the TARDIS out of sight.  It took them little time to track the signal, which apparently was being generated by a military base.  There was a guard on duty at the entrance.  He was humanoid, but had green skin and shaggy, bright blue hair.  “State your business!” the soldier snapped, a weapon at the ready.

“We've come to answer the distress call you've been sending,” the Doctor explained.  “We were in the neighborhood . . .”

The soldier looked doubtful.  “Two of you?  How can you assist in a planetary evacuation with only two of you?  Unless the rest of your team is somewhere close . . .”

“Nope, just us,” the Time Lord said cheerfully.  “Now why are you trying to evacuate the planet in the first place?” 

The guard said stiffly, “I'm going to contact my superiors; they can tell you more.”  He took out a walkie-talkie and said, “Control, this is the West Gate.  I've got two aliens here, say they're here to answer the distress beacon.  Please advise.”  He stepped away from the Doctor and Jothan as he waited for a reply.

Jothan stood near the fence, the Doctor by his side.  “What if they don't let us in?”  he asked.

The Doctor shrugged.  “Then we go back to the TARDIS, materialize inside the gate and try again.  Failing that, I'm not sure.  Not too eager to get the TARDIS in harm's way, not with this lot.”   

“Can they hurt the TARDIS?”  the medic asked anxiously.

“It's possible,” the Doctor admitted.  “Also, they're more likely to know I'm a Time Lord if I have to use the TARDIS to gain their trust.  Better off to leave her out of it.”

At last the guard returned, weapon at his side.  “The two of you are to accompany me to Control as soon as I'm relieved of my post.  They'll inform you of the situation.”  The guard looked ill at ease, but he didn't point his weapon at them anymore.  The Time Lord was uncharacteristically quiet and Jothan followed suit.  Best not to say too much at this point, he told himself.

In a few minutes another soldier was on the scene, and Jothan and the Doctor were ushered into the compound.  They went in through a small, but elaborate gate.  The Doctor was suspicious.  “What is this for?” he asked roughly.

“Scans for weapons, sir.  If you don't go through, you can't come in,” the guard replied tersely.  “If you'd rather not . . .”  

The Doctor grunted, but stepped through the gate.

The medic looked around him as they hurried to the main complex.  There were huge satellite dishes and launch pads for rockets, with ground transports speeding by.  Everyone looked busy and intent on their work, not noticing them as they passed.

Once they entered the building it was more of the same.  Even the entryway was packed with people running frantically here and there.  They were guided through the throng into a quiet boardroom.  “Wait here,” the guard instructed.  “Someone will be in shortly to explain our situation.”

The Doctor went over to the large window that was one wall of the boardroom and looked out.  “Quite the hubbub.  Whatever it is, they're certainly involving everyone in a solution.”

“But this place is so small . . .” Jothan protested.

“This is the only continent where people live, and the military would be handling any planet-wide disaster.  If it's not happening here, it's not happening anywhere.”  The Doctor continued to examine the workers on the other side of the glass.  “I don't see any actual evacuations taking place, whatever the guard said.  Could be that the evacuation staging area is at the spaceport instead, which would make a lot of sense, actually.”

“How many people would need to be evacuated?  And where could they go?” Jothan asked.

The Doctor considered.  “No more than ten million, all told.  Any of the other planets in the system would be able to support them, though Rensica Four is already populated.  It's just a matter of getting them to safety, if it comes to that.  And no, we can't shuttle them out in the TARDIS; even she doesn't have that kind of capacity.  We'll have to avert the catastrophe rather than evacuate, unless someone else comes along, and I doubt they'll be equipped for a full evacuation either.”

“What do you think the emergency is?” the medic questioned.

“No idea, though it doesn't seem to be happening right at the moment, like mass illness or something of that nature.  We'll have to wait and see what they can tell us.”

A few minutes later, an older woman with a lab coat and short, dark blue hair came in.  “I am Professor Vejanib, a worker here.  Thank you for your offer of help, though I'm sure there's little you can do for us.  A huge asteroid is now nine days out from Rensica Prime, and on a direct course for this continent.  Even if it were to hit another part of the planet, it would bring mass devastation.  Our plan is to evacuate as many people as we can, but we have few ships, thus the distress call.  We had thought of firing bombing rockets at the asteroid to break it up in smaller pieces, but that would do more harm rather than less.”

The Doctor looked over at the woman.  “You don't need to evacuate.  Just fire your rockets to push the asteroid off-course.  Asteroid goes elsewhere, you and your people are fine.”

“How in the world do you intend to . . .”

“I'm the Doctor, and I'll be happy to assist you in diverting your asteroid.  Now, let me see what we're dealing with.”

************  

Within minutes, the Doctor was at the observatory checking out the asteroid.  “Nine days out, you said?”

The professor said, “Yes, Doctor.  It's an odd shape, but our satellites confirm its distance.”      

“Odd shape?  That might be helpful; easier to knock it off-course.  Now what kind of bombing rockets were you thinking of using?”

“We have seven hundred Class Three antimatter bombs of one hundred megaton strength, and three hundred that are five hundred megaton strength.  It's all we have.”  The professor started wringing her hands.  “If only we had more time, or bigger ships . . .”

“Are these rockets targetable?” the Doctor asked.

“Yes, they can be targeted to within a range of two meters.”

The Doctor turned around, a grin on his face.  “I need all the satellite projections of the asteroid that you have.  You have more than enough rockets to pull this off, as long as you target them correctly.  Has anyone done a flyby?  That would help, too.”

The professor responded, “No one; we've put all our resources into evacuation.  The first waves are heading for Rensica Two even as we speak, but the trip takes two days.  That gives us barely three trips, and there's just not enough time.”

“Tell you what,” the Doctor said briskly.  “I'll do my own flyby in my ship, then return with the correct trajectory for your rockets.  Now you'll have to be careful not to use too many; we want to divert this thing, not destroy it.”

Professor Vejanib nodded.  “Of course, Doctor.  We'll be waiting for your return.  How many days—”

“I'll be back in an hour,” the Time Lord promised, heading for the door.

************  

An hour later, the TARDIS returned to Rensica Prime as promised.  They parked the craft in the same place they had before.  “Can't we just land inside the complex now that they've accepted our help?” Jothan wanted to know.

“I'm not chancing it,” the Doctor said firmly.  “I want us in and out with as little knowledge of who I am as I can.  They're all friendly right now, and I don't want anything getting in the way of that.”

They walked back to the military base, where several guards were now patrolling the gate.  As they approached, one called out, “Are you the aliens that came to help?”

Jothan answered, “Yes, that's us . . .”

“Come this way.”  Two guards stood ready to guide them.

They went through the gate again, but this time to a different part of the facility.  There was a lot of activity; rockets were being prepared for launch at an astonishing rate.  They entered a different building, and were led to a control room, with technicians busy at their screens.  Professor Vejanib was there with two others.  “Doctor, may I introduce Prime Minister Dualib, and High General Fetinsee.”

Introductions were quick, and then Jothan asked, “How is the evacuation progressing?”

The Prime Minister answered, “Slowly, though we've been able to convert some large-scale ore miners into transports.  They're to be launched tomorrow.  Still, we're not going to be able to evacuate even a million people before that asteroid gets here.”

“Good thing you have the Doctor then—he'll put it all to rights.”  Jothan smiled reassuringly at the Prime Minister, but stopped when he saw an odd look on the man's face that he couldn't quite read.  He couldn't read his emotions either; they were changing too fast.  

The Doctor told those assembled, “Now, you're going to have to make sure you don't use too many rockets.  We want to move the asteroid, not break it up.  That's going to take precision and judicious use of your rockets.  It's not going to be easy because it's tumbling, but I've mapped out the best place for a good, hard shove.  Can you get the rockets to synchronize?”

The general answered, “Depends on how synchronized you want them; we can only launch one hundred at once.”

The Doctor shook his head.  “Use that many and you'll fragment that rock into four, five pieces.  You want to use twenty of the smaller rockets, targeted at a large crater on the sun-side of the asteroid.”

“We can launch twenty rockets at once easily, but how do we target a specific crater?  The thing's got to be covered with craters.”  The general looked doubtful.

The Doctor said, “Simple.  Use one rocket with no payload as a guidance missile.  Then have the rest of the rockets target that missile.”

Professor Vejanib asked, “And how do we guide the first rocket?”

The Doctor sounded very sure of himself.  “That's where I come in.  I have precise measurements and coordinates of the asteroid, and I can project them out to a suitable launch window.  The best time will be tomorrow seven hours after dawn.  It'll take some of that time for you to get the rockets together and synchronized, and for me to program the guidance rocket.”

“And if your plan fails?” the Prime Minister queried.  “What if the asteroid breaks apart?”

“If the asteroid breaks up, we'll need the bigger rockets to take out as many of the fragments as we can,” the Doctor told them.  “You'll have a strong meteor shower that'll do some damage, but it won't be anywhere near what you'll get if you do nothing.  Still, the plan's going to work.  Like I said, I have precise measurements and coordinates, and that asteroid's no cloud of space dust—it's mostly composed of strong metal compounds.  It's probably a piece of the core of an old, exploded planetoid that just happens to be coming your way.” 

The Prime Minister commented, “We'll continue with the evacuation effort just in case.  So far, we've managed to get one hundred thousand people on their way, and we've still got a few more ore-mining ships to be converted.” 

High General Fetinsee said briskly, “Well Doctor, we need to find you a place where you can program the guidance rocket.  I'll have several specialists at your command in half an hour, along with the guidance mechanism.  There's an electronics lab near Satellite Array Control.  I'll lead the way . . .” 

The Prime Minister excused himself.  “I must be going back to supervise the evacuation.  I will return an hour or so before the launch.”

The others made their way through the base to an enormous laboratory with all kinds of electronic tools and supplies.  The Doctor looked around appreciatively.  “This will be fantastic.  How long before I can have that rocket?”

“Half an hour, with specialists to go with it,” the general promised.

“No offense, but I won't be needing any help on this—solo act, me.  Don't worry, I'll get it done in plenty of time for it to be connected back up properly and prepared for launch.”

Jothan felt a bit useless, so he asked, “Is there any way I can be of help?  I'm no good when it comes to something technical, but I have medical skills . . .”

“Actually,” Professor Vejanib suggested, “You can help me prepare survival kits for the evacuees.  I'm rather in the way myself, so my colleagues and I volunteered.”

Jothan frowned.  He didn't like the idea of being away from the Doctor, but it was a way he could be useful during the crisis.  “Do you mind, Doctor?”

The Doctor was already taking items out of his pockets that he had brought to augment the rocket guidance systems.  “Go right ahead; just make sure you're back to witness the launch.”

“I will be,” Jothan promised.  He and Professor Vejanib left for another part of the base.

While they were walking the professor asked, “How long have you known the Doctor?”

Jothan considered.  He didn't want to say too much, but being too evasive might make these people lose faith in the Doctor's skill.  “Just over fifteen months.”

Professor Vejanib looked concerned.  “That's not a long time.  Are you close?”

Jothan wasn't about to tell the truth on that question.  “Fairly,” he responded.  “Look, I know you're probably nervous about having the fate of your planet in the hands of some strange alien, but the Doctor's the best you could ask for.  Saving people is his speciality.”

“It is difficult,” the woman admitted.  “For all we know, the Doctor will make things worse instead of better.  If the asteroid were to break up instead of changing direction, we'll be in more trouble than we are now.  I don't like the fact that we're totally dependent on an alien from who knows where doing who knows what.  Still, you're the best and only hope we have at the moment.”

“The Doctor knows exactly what he's doing,” Jothan responded fervently.  “You couldn't ask for a sharper mind.”

“You have to admit though, that he has nothing to lose,” the professor pointed out.  “If the plan fails, you and he can always leave the way you came.” 

“It wouldn't be like that, not at all.  The Doctor can fix anything.”

The professor sighed.  “I wish I had your confidence.  But here we are at the loading station.  I'll get you a list of kit essentials and you can get to work.”

************  

  At the appointed time, Jothan was back with the Doctor, the professor, the Prime Minister, and General Fetinsee.  They were standing at a large view screen tracking the approach of the asteroid.  The room was hushed except for the voice of a technician who would be launching the rockets.  

“Will we see the impact of the guidance rocket from here?” the Prime Minister wanted to know.

“No,” the Doctor said.  “The guidance missile is too small to show up.  But you will see the antimatter explosion with the naked eye, and we'll be able to tell whether or not the diversion works within seconds of the impact.  Now, timing is everything.  You'll need to launch the antimatter rockets exactly three minutes after the guidance rocket goes up, in order to make sure they acquire the signal and are on course.”

The general gave the order.  “Fire the guidance rocket.”

The first rocket went up.  The Doctor waited, then said, “Fire secondary rockets . . . now!”

The wave of rockets was launched on time.  “How long will we have to wait?” the Prime Minister asked.

“It'll take twenty minutes for the guidance rocket to hit, and three minutes longer for the antimatter rockets,” the Doctor told them.  “Nothing to do now but track the guidance rocket to make sure it stays on course.”

Everyone watched the screen in anticipation.  After a long time, the technician announced, “Guidance rocket has impacted on the asteroid surface.  Three minutes to antimatter detonation.”

No one dared to move.  The room was hushed, though he was pretty sure the professor was whispering something, perhaps a prayer.  Jothan looked around, watching everyone else concentrating on the screen.  Only the Doctor looked calm and unconcerned.  

The technician announced, “Antimatter detonation in three . . . two . . . one . . . now.”

Within seconds, it was apparent that the explosion had worked; the screen showed the asteroid heading out of position.  A loud cheer went up from the whole room.  “We've done it!” the Prime Minister shouted.  “The planet's saved!”

“A nice piece of work indeed,” the Doctor observed.  “Genius, me.  Told you it would work.  Well, no need for thanks.  Jothan and I will be going—”

Tersely, General Fetinsee ordered, “Secure the alien.”

Two guards came up on either side of the Doctor, weapons at the ready.  “What's going on?” Jothan asked, bewildered.  “He just saved your entire planet.  Why—”

The professor said gently, “The Doctor isn't just any alien, Jothan.  He's a Time Lord.  I'm sure you don't understand exactly what that means . . .”

“I know he's a Time Lord—I've known for a long time.  How did you find out?” Jothan asked.

The general told them, “The scan that you went through when you entered the base identified him immediately.  We re-scanned him when you both returned.  There's no doubt that he's a Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey, and he will be tried for high crimes against Rensica Prime.” 

“But he just saved you!” Jothan protested.  “Doesn't that even matter?  He came here to help.” 

“Don't, Jothan,” the Doctor told him quietly.  “It's no use.  I'll come quietly, if you let my companion go unharmed.”

The Prime Minister cleared his throat, then said officiously, “Your comrade will not be held responsible for your transgressions.  He is free to go or stay as he chooses, as long as he does not interfere with your arrest.  You will be held here until your trial can be prepared.  High General, escort your prisoner to the brig.”

Jothan had a sudden flash of inspiration.  “At least let me take his effects, please!”

The Prime Minister frowned, but finally nodded.  “Take what you wish.”

Carefully, Jothan took the Doctor's leather jacket.  “What do you want me to do?” he asked, a lump forming in his throat.

“Go back to the ship and make sure she's safe,” the Doctor commanded.  “See if you can come back to see me later.  Other than that, don't interfere; I don't want you hurt.”

“We will see that he's taken care of, Doctor,” the professor promised.  “I'm a psychologist; I'll try to explain to him what's happening.  We have to do that much, Prime Minister; he did save us.”

The Prime Minister waved his hand in a dismissive gesture.  “Do what you want with the other one, Professor Vejanib.  I have no interest in him; I just want to see justice done regarding this Time Lord.  He will get a fair a trial, with the best defense lawyer there is.  General, you have your prisoner—see that he's secure.”

The general snapped to attention.  “Guards, take the prisoner to the brig at once.”

Jothan could hardly watch as the Doctor was led away.  “I'm sorry we ever came here,” he said bitterly to the professor.  “We apparently should have let you die instead of bothering to help.”

“I am sure the war crimes tribunal will take the Time Lord's recent actions into account, Jothan,” Professor Vejanib encouraged.  “Now, will you need a place to stay?  Do you need anything?”

“Don't try being nice to me,” Jothan spat.  “You have no right.  I'm going back to my ship for now, but I will be back and I expect to have access to the Doctor.”

“Before that, I want to sit down and speak with you, to make sure you understand why your companion's under arrest,” the woman said earnestly.  “You can't comprehend what's going on unless someone takes the time to explain the situation to you.”

“All I know is the Doctor just rescued you all, and you thanked him by arresting him.  What else do I need to know?”  Jothan was angry, but kept himself under control.

“There's a lot more, things you can't possibly be aware of,” Professor Vejanib insisted.  “But go to your ship for now.  You will not be denied entrance when you return; I'll see to it.”

Jothan was escorted off the base by a guard.  He wanted to go back to the TARDIS at once, but decided against it; he might be followed.  He went instead into the city, carrying the Doctor's leather jacket carefully.  He had taken it to make sure the Rensicans didn't get their hands on its contents.  He walked around the city a bit, making sure he was alone.

At last, he headed back to the TARDIS.  Upon entering he told the craft, “The Doctor's been arrested for war crimes.  I need you to send all the information you have on this planet and its judicial system to the library computer, specifically their stance on capital punishment and anything you have on their trying war criminals.”  He hung the leather jacket on the coat rack, sighed worriedly, then went to do his research.

************         

Four hours later Jothan left the TARDIS, frustrated and concerned.  He hadn't been able to find any information on how the Rensicans treated war criminals, but he did know there had been a handful of cases throughout the planet's history where the accused had been executed.  Each of the cases had involved things like serial pedophilia or serial rape, and always at least ten murders.  That information had made Jothan nervous; he was pretty sure more than ten people had died during the Time War. 

He made his way back to the military base, and was let in, though grudgingly.  He asked the guard, “Are you taking me to where you're holding my friend under illegal arrest?”

The soldier muttered, “Professor Vejanib gave instructions that you're to be escorted to her office immediately upon arrival.  You'll have to ask her about seeing the prisoner.” 

Jothan sighed in vexation, but followed the soldier to their destination.  He hadn't thought he would have free run of the place, but he really wanted to hurry and make sure the Doctor was all right.  If these people were this rotten to those that helped them, he didn't want to think of how they would treat the Doctor if he were actually found guilty.  Besides, the woman was wasting his time; he didn't care what justifications they were trying to fool themselves with.  They had used the Doctor for their own ends, and then decided to jail him.  If they had been decent and honest they would have arrested him on the spot rather than waiting until after he had solved their problem.

At last they reached a building on the outskirts of the installation.  To his surprise, it was built on a grassy area with large, grey trees growing up from real soil.  It seemed an odd place to have on a military base, but he figured there must be some logical reason for it, and it looked inviting after all the tarmac and artificial surfaces.

He was checked in at the desk by a beefy, tall Rensican who did not look at all surprised to see him.  He said politely, “I am Dwarno.  Professor Vejanib is busy with a patient at the moment; won't you please come this way to wait for her?  I'll have to put you in the Children's Room for now, but it'll be comfortable.”

Jothan followed him into a cheery room with balloons painted on the walls and toy boxes on the floor filled with a variety of toys.  There were child-sized tables and art supplies as well, but there was also adult furniture.  Jothan glanced around him, then absently picked up what looked like a top from one of the tables and fidgeted with it in his hands.  He noticed a mirror taking up one wall, and wondered if it was one-way glass, so a person could see into the room without being observed.  Again, he thought the room an odd thing to have on a military base, but the Rensicans had already shown that they weren't your average aliens.  He shrugged, and ignored the mirror.  If these people wanted to waste their time watching him sit, they were welcome to it.  He sat down at a table, wishing he had remembered to eat something while he was in the TARDIS.  Then he wondered if they'd feed the Doctor or let him take showers, and the worry hit him full force.  He ran his fingers through his hair, pondering.

In time, the professor appeared.  “Sorry it took me a while to come to you, Jothan; I was in the middle of a session.  Several of my patients have experienced crisis due to the evacuations, and I couldn't just leave them without aid.  I am the head of the psychology department here on the base.  We want to make sure all the people living on the base can seek mental health when needed.  We have a children's specialist and several other people on staff, but I am in charge.  Still, you didn't come here to discuss my program; you're here because of your friend.” 

Jothan tried to keep the anger out of his voice.  “I don't want to talk to you,” he said flatly.  “There's nothing for either of us to say that'll change things.  I'm only here because I apparently have to go through you before I can see the Doctor.  You'll save yourself a lot of time and energy just taking me to him rather than trying to talk me into seeing things your way.”

“Actually, that's not what I've been asked to do.  I'm supposed to ascertain whether or not you are with the Time Lord of your own free will,” the woman stated calmly.

“What?!” Jothan gasped.  “Of course I choose to be with the Doctor!  Why wouldn't I?  He's smart and brave, he always wants to help . . . who wouldn't want to be with him?” 

“Your Time Lord friend has murdered millions of people on this planet alone, and countless others on other worlds that were tricked into getting involved in the Time War.  I can think of a lot of reasons not to associate with him, much less be his companion.  If he has some unnatural hold on you, some strange bond or mind control, we can help you get free.  We want to help you break away from this . . . this monster.”  

Jothan stared at the woman, unable to speak at first.  They thought he was the Doctor's slave!  He had no idea how to change their minds, either; the more he protested, the stronger they would believe the Doctor's “hold” over him was.  With an effort, he asked, “Can I see him now?  You're not going to believe anything I say.”

The professor looked at him sadly.  “I wish you would trust me; we can free you from the hold this Time Lord has over you, whatever it is.  You'll be safe, protected—we can help undo the damage he's done—”

Jothan lost his temper.  “Just let me see him!” he yelled.  “I don't want your 'help'.  I want to be off this Zeus-forsaken rock as fast as I can, with the Doctor by my side.  If you hate him as much as you say you do, just let him get in his ship and leave!  He didn't have to help you people, you know.  He could have just gone his merry way and let you all get crushed to death.  If he's so terrible, why do you think he saved you?”

The woman spoke calmly and clearly.  “That's how it started before.  The Time Lords came offering help and shelter from a nightmare we knew nothing about, in exchange for our assistance.  It wasn't until we gave in and offered our help that the true nightmare began, and of course, by then it was too late to turn back.  We were already aligned with the Time Lords, and the Daleks knew it.”

“So, you'd rather have died at the hands of the Daleks—”  Jothan was furious.

“We would rather have not gotten involved at all, on either side.  If we had turned down the Time Lords and their appeal, the Daleks wouldn't have gone after us in the first place.  If we had remained neutral, we would have been spared.”

Jothan bounded to his feet.  “I don't want to hear any more, not one word!  Not only are you blaming the Doctor for things he had no control over and didn't do, you used him to save your sorry selves and then decided he was dangerous enough to arrest.  He wasn't the one who asked you to get involved in the Time War, I'm sure of that.  You just want someone to blame, and rather than give the blame to the Daleks, who really deserve it, you're going to make the Doctor your scapegoat instead.  If the Daleks had won the war, you had better believe they wouldn't be sparing anyone in the entire universe.  I am done with this conversation.  Either take me to the Doctor or kick me out.”

Professor Vejanib stood.  “I'll take you.  You'll have access to the Time Lord as long as he's here, but I am recommending to my superiors that the Time Lord has a very strong hold over you and it's doubtful that you are his willing companion.  Before you speak, understand something:  it's what I believe, and if I report anything else you could be restricted from the base and your friend completely.”  She turned toward the door, but then gazed back at him, a pained look on her face.  “I believe with all my heart that you're sincere about your thoughts concerning the Time Lord, Jothan; it just happens that they're wrong.  I'll not try to dissuade you for the moment, but if you ask for help to be freed from him, we will assist you in any way we can.”

The woman led Jothan from the brightly painted room and back outside to the main compound.  It was five minutes before they came to a station with guards at the entrance.  She flashed a badge, then asked crisply, “Is the badge I requested for this alien ready yet?”

One of the guards snapped to attention.  “Yes, ma'am,” he responded.  

He gave the professor the badge, and she handed it to Jothan.  “From now on, you can come in through the Main Gate and they'll take you right here,” she told the medic.  

They went through two checkpoints before arriving at the Doctor's cell.  It was in a large, plain room, and was the only cell in it.  There was a shower with clear walls, a toilet, and a sink right in the cell, plus a cot with a single blanket and a thin pillow.  There were no bars, but a grid of red laser-beams went along the front of the cell.

The Doctor was sitting on the cot when they came in, but jumped to his feet when the door opened.  “Jothan—” he began when he saw the medic.

Before he could say anything else, the professor broke in.  “Time Lord, I have come to plead with you to release your companion from the unnatural hold you so clearly have over him.  If you do, it will go so much better for you at your trial.  Freeing an enthralled sentient is the right thing to do . . . and shows a measure of compassion and morality.  Set him loose, Time Lord . . . let him live by his own terms.  At least consider my words.  If you do choose to free him, just speak to the guards and I'll come right away, and you can explain to me how to break the bond.”  She looked at them both sorrowfully, then left quickly.

“Nutters,” Jothan spat bitterly once she was gone, “absolute nutters.  I didn't even try to correct them; it only would have cemented their thoughts about me.  'Enthralled' indeed!  It doesn't look good, Doctor—couldn't find anything on war crimes, but they do have capital punishment in extreme cases, always involving more than ten murders.  Since more than that were killed in the war—not that you murdered anyone . . . have you seen your legal representative yet?”

“No, no one.”  The Doctor sounded resigned.  

“Are they recording us?” the medic wanted to know.

“No idea.  I take it you made it back to our ship all right?”

Jothan nodded.  “Of course; that's where I did the research about their judicial system.”

“Don't get followed there, Jothan.  Don't give up our ship, not for anything.”  The Doctor spoke urgently.  “It might be in danger if you do.”

“I won't,” Jothan promised.  “I'll make sure to keep it secure, especially from this lot.”

“Keep yourself safe too, Jothan.  If they think you're mad or under my control, they may try something drastic.”

Jothan looked determined.  “I just want to make sure your legal representative knows the whole truth, not just some line they feed the person.  I want to talk to him or her myself and make sure they understand who you really are.”

The Time Lord shook his head.  “I can't guarantee that, Jothan—you'll just have to be lucky enough to come at a time when she or he is here if you want to talk to them, though I'll let them know about you.”

“I'll come every day, and stay as long as I can before they throw me out,” the medic promised.  “They're leaving you alone, aren't they?  No torture or anything?”

“None as yet,” the Doctor told him.

Jothan stood in front of the bars, noticing that his hand would fit through the holes if he were cautious.  He reached in for the Doctor's hand.

“Don't!” the Doctor cried, pulling away.  “You have no idea what that might do to you.”

“The holes are big enough . . . I'll be careful . . .” the medic insisted.  He reached in again, this time taking hold of the Time Lord.  “We'll figure out something.  At the very worst, you can see about having your representative push for permanent banishment rather than death.”

“I have a feeling they wouldn't look too favorably on that,” the Doctor told him.  “In their minds that would just leave me free to wreak havoc on some other planet.”

Jothan sighed.  “They had no right to use you the way they did.  That was just plain wrong.”

“Wrong or not, they got what they wanted, what they needed.” 

Just then, three soldiers came into the room.  One stepped forward swiftly and held a weapon to Jothan's head while a second turned off the grid at some controls near the door.  The third was carrying a tray of food and a towel.  She laid both on the cot, then turned around and walked out of the cell.  The guard by the door turned the lasers back on, and the other lowered his weapon.  All three left in silence.

Jothan let out his breath.  “That was pleasant,” he commented.

The Doctor said slowly, “Maybe it's not a good idea to have you come every day.  I don't want them hurting you, Jothan.”

In the back of his mind the medic was thinking the same thing, but he dismissed the idea with a shake of his head.  He would not abandon his companion and lover, no matter what.  “They're just  trying to intimidate us, Doctor.  They're not going to do anything . . .” 

“I want you to be very careful just the same,” the Time Lord insisted.

Jothan looked over at the tray on the cot.  “You had best eat; who knows how long they'll give you to finish it.  Will you have to eat with your hands?” he wondered.

“No; they gave me a spoon.”  The Doctor sat down on the cot, placing the tray in his lap.  He took a bite, then said, “It's pretty good.  Not anything like what you cook, but pretty good.”

“Considering some of the swill we've had to choke down in prison before, I'm grateful on your behalf.”  Jothan was quiet for a long while, then started pacing.  “I wonder what's keeping your legal representative?” 

“Putting together a war crimes tribunal could take months, Jothan,” the Time Lord warned.  “Don't expect this to be a quick process.  It could be days or weeks before I have representation, and even then, the trial's not going to be swift.”

“I just want you free so we can leave this place.  I wish we'd never come,” the medic mourned.

The Doctor put down the spoon for a moment.  “There are a lot of innocents on this planet that would have died if it weren't for us.  Are you sure you'd rather have had them lose their lives?  War does strange, terrible things to people, and the Rensicans think they are doing the best thing to ensure their survival.  It's not pleasant for us . . .”

Jothan stopped pacing and stared straight into the Time Lord's eyes.  “You call it 'not pleasant'?  You're under arrest.  They could kill you for something you didn't do and had no control over!  That's a far cry from 'not pleasant'.” 

The Doctor sighed, finishing his meal.  “I'm trying to see this from their point of view, Jothan.”

“Their point of view is barking mad and you know it!” the younger man challenged.

“You have to look at this as objectively as you can.  It'll help you get through it better.”  The Doctor walked over to the sink and turned it on, cupping his hands to get a drink.  When he had finished he sat down on the cot again.  “I mean it, Jothan.  You can't hate these people for being scared.  The Time War almost decimated this planet.  It was a horrible, frightening time for all of them and the last thing they want is to risk them happening again.  In their minds, the Time Lords caused them to suffer what they did—”

The medic threw up his hands.  “But it was the Daleks who did it!  Not the Time Lords, and certainly not you!”             

“That's obviously not how they see it.  As far as they're concerned, The Time Lords are to blame and I represent all Time Lords, so I get the punishment.  It all makes perfect sense.”

“It's mad, it's evil, and it's not fair!” Jothan protested.

The door opened, and the guards re-entered.  Again, Jothan had a weapon to his head while the female guard removed the tray.  Once they left, Jothan muttered, “I wonder what they think I'm going to do, that they have to do that.”

“I don't think it has anything to do with what you might do,” the Doctor told him.  “They want to make sure I don't escape.”

“Like you could . . .”

“They don't know that.  For all they know, I can leave any time I want.”  The Doctor sighed.

“If they think you're so powerful, why arrest you at all?” Jothan asked.  

“Not sure.”

Jothan sat down on the floor near the cell.  “Do you think they'll . . . mightn't they just kill you outright and save themselves a trial?”

The Doctor looked doubtful.  “The Rensicans have a very firm stance on trying people accused of crimes.  I don't think they'd do anything untoward.”

They sat in silence for a long time.  At last, the door opened again and the female soldier stepped in.  “You must leave now,” she told Jothan quietly.  “You are free to come back tomorrow after dawn.”

Jothan stood up.  “Good night, Doctor.  I'll come back tomorrow, I promise.”

“Good night, Jothan.  Please be careful.”

The medic nodded, then left the room.

************  

Jothan tried to hurry the next morning, but he was sluggish from lack of sleep and it seemed the more he tried to rush, the slower he went.  He was finally ready and locked the TARDIS behind him.  It was well past dawn.  He groaned, then set himself to walk to the military base quickly.  This time he headed for the Main Gate Professor Vejanib had told him about the day before.  There were more guards on duty here, but they let him pass without comment.  Some of them even had a strange look in their eyes, perhaps one of compassion.  He passed through the checkpoints by sliding his badge through a panel near the door at each guarded station, and made it into the Doctor's room.

The Time Lord was just finishing his shower.  He glanced over at the door, then continued washing up.  Jothan stared at the floor; though he had seen the Doctor naked many times before, it seemed like he was intruding on the Time Lord's privacy.  He waited until the Doctor was dressed and sitting on the cot, then asked shyly, “Did you try to sleep?”

“Not tired yet.  You didn't sleep either, by the look of things.”

The medic didn't try to deny it.  “Too worried,” he admitted.

The Doctor frowned.  “Have you at least eaten?” he asked sharply.

“A little.  Not very hungry this morning.”

“You need to take care of yourself, Jothan.  I'm going to need you at your best if we're going to get through this.”  The Doctor looked very stern.  “You have to sleep, and eat, and all those other things.  I can't focus on getting out of here if I'm all concerned about your welfare.  You understand?”

Jothan looked at his shoes, ashamed of himself.  “I understand,” he mumbled.

“I'll hold you to it.  Did you find out anything else?”

The medic sighed.  “There was nothing else in the computer.  I wish we knew more, but the only person I might be able to ask is Professor Vejanib, and there's no point trying to get information from her.  We'll have to wait until your legal representative gets here, and ask them our questions.  They haven't come yet, have they?”

“No one's been here since last night.  Haven't even—” 

Once again the door opened, and the guards from the night before came in.  The one was just grabbing Jothan, weapon raised, when the female soldier spoke out.  “Leave him alone, Ibo!” she chided.  “Weren't you listening at briefing this morning?  The poor thing can't help it; the Time Lord has control of his mind.  Imagine how you'd feel if it happened to you, and people treated you harshly.”

The soldier looked at Jothan, looked at her, then holstered his weapon, keeping a hold on Jothan's arm.  The female guard delivered the tray, then all three guards left.

“Unbelievable!” Jothan fumed once they had gone.  “That stupid woman told them I'm—”

“I'm glad,” the Doctor said quietly.  “It means they won't hurt you; they'll pity you instead.  At least you'll be safe.”  He ate his breakfast quickly, then set the tray aside.  “I wish I had a book.”

“I could try asking . . .”

The Time Lord waved his hand dismissively.  “I'd rather you saved your requests for something important.  I can live with being bored.” 

The day passed slowly.  At lunch the guards brought a chair in with the tray so Jothan didn't have to sit on the floor.  He was glad of the seat, but tried to ignore the sympathetic looks he got from the female soldier.  When dinner came they brought in an extra tray.  The food was strange and a little bland, but the medic ate it all.  The soldiers came again to clean up, and then they were alone.  Again the guard told Jothan when it was time to leave, and he said goodnight.

Jothan went back to the TARDIS, taking care to make sure he wasn't followed.  He was going to do more research on law in the library, but decided against it; the Doctor wouldn't want him to push himself too hard.  He wearily climbed into bed, and soon fell asleep.  He dreamed of the Time Lord being shot in the head by a firing squad.

************  

Jothan got up later than he wanted to, but this time he decided not to hurry.  He ate a good breakfast and took a long shower, then got dressed.  The medic went to the library and chose a thick book from one of the shelves after making sure it was written in English.  The Doctor might not be able to have a book, but he might be able to read to him, he thought.  

As he neared the military installation, he was surprised to see a large crowd of people at the entrance.  Some of them were holding signs, and there was a lot of confused yelling going on.  He came closer, but stopped short when he was able to read the signs clearly.  “KILL THE TIME LORD NOW” was printed on one in lurid red letters.  Another said “SWIFT JUSTICE” in brown.  Apparently word had gotten out about the Doctor's presence, and the common people were none too pleased.  Jothan turned to go when he bumped into someone hurrying toward the throng, a bullhorn in her hands.  “Sorry,” he apologized.  “Didn't mean to—” 

The woman looked startled, then her face changed to one of hate.  She grabbed Jothan savagely by the arm and raised the bullhorn to her lips.  She shouted into it, “Here!  Rensicans, come here!  I have the Time Lord's companion!”

The whole crowd turned toward her and started coming fast.  Jothan had no choice.  He used his telepathic power to break the grip the woman had on his arm, sending her a painful shock.  The woman dropped his arm, hissing, but Jothan paid no attention.  He ran for the west gate he had entered before.

The mob was close behind him, but Jothan had a lot of practice running away from danger.  He made it to the gate and gasped, “I'm here to see the Doctor.  Please, let me in before those people—”   

“Leave him for the mob,” one guard sneered.  “Let them sort him out.”

Another soldier, an older man, activated the gate.  “We have our instructions, Panra; talk like that again and I'll report you to the lieutenant.  Come on in, lad—they won't get you.”

Gratefully, Jothan hurried through the gate.  It closed behind him, leaving the scornful guard to handle the crush of people coming his way.  As he was escorted away he saw other soldiers hurrying to the west gate to help their comrade.  “Thank you,” Jothan told his defender.  

The soldier brushed him off.  “Just doing my duty, lad.  I hope they can free you from that demon of a Time Lord before the end.”

The medic didn't say any more.  

He got to the first checkpoint, where the book was thoroughly examined by several guards.  It was examined again at the second checkpoint, and he had to wait.  At last, they deemed the book innocuous, and let him into the room where the Doctor was.

He came into the room and said in a rush, “There's a problem—someone told the people in the city about you, and I had to run from an angry rabble.  Not sure how I'll make it out again.  I hope our ship will be all right . . .”

The Doctor frowned.  “I want to make sure you're all right as well.  I wonder if I shouldn't try talking to that professor, offer—”

“You don't control my mind, and I'm not going to let her think that you do!” Jothan shouted angrily.  “I'll face that mob if it comes to it . . .”

The Time Lord was on his feet.  “I need you safe, Jothan, and you'll do whatever I tell you to make sure that you are!”

Jothan sat down heavily, setting the book next to the chair.  “I don't want to fight with you.  If I play along and act like you freed me from something, it'll just be more proof to them of what a monster you are.  At least now I can come and see you.”

“But how will you get back to the ship tonight?  I knew it was wrong to have you come so often . . .” the Doctor worried.

Just then, the door opened and Professor Vejanib came in.  “The guards told me you had some trouble getting here today.  Are you hurt?”

“No, I'm fine,” Jothan said shortly.  “What do you want?”

“An exchange.  I'm very popular with the Rensican people and considered the premier expert in my field.  If I speak to them on your behalf they won't harass you any more.  It'll mean you'll have to appear in front of the press tomorrow or the day after, but that's only so they can get a look at you, see that you're not dangerous.”

“What do you want in return?” the medic asked suspiciously.

The professor replied earnestly, “I want the opportunity to examine you thoroughly, to see if we can't break the link between you and the Time Lord.  I want to do physical scans, neurological scans, psychological testing, things of that sort.  I also want you away from the Time Lord for at least five days, to see if that doesn't help a bit.”

“Will you ensure his safety?  Will you see that he's cared for?” the Doctor asked quietly.

The woman nodded.  “On my life.  He'll come to no harm; the public's in a panic due to misinformation and gossip.  My words today and at the press conference we'll have soon will clear all that up.  But to do that, I want him.  I want him away from you and your influence.  If you won't free him voluntarily, I want a chance to do it myself.”

“He'll go,” the Doctor responded with finality.

“I'll what?!  You're not even asking me!  You're selling me out to—”

The Doctor reached his hand through the grid of lasers.  “Jothan, come here,” he pleaded.

Jothan didn't want to, he was so angry, but finally he did.

The Doctor took the medic's hand and stroked it gently.  “I need you to do this, Jothan.  They'll leave you to that mob otherwise.  The tests they want to perform won't hurt you . . .”

Jothan swallowed hard.  “I don't want to leave you . . . they hate you . . .”  

“The Rensicans won't do anything to me without a trial,” the Doctor said quickly.  “You're the one who's in danger now.  If you agree, you'll be under their protection.  They'll see that you're cared for as long as we're here if you'll play along with them for a few days.” 

“But what if they don't let me come back?” Jothan was distressed.

Professor Vejanib told him gently, “If you still want to come back after we've done our examinations and testing, you'll be free to.  That's a promise, Jothan.  If we can't help you, we'll let you stay with the Time Lord as much as you can.” 

Jothan sighed, giving the Doctor's hand a squeeze.  “I'll go,” he mumbled.

Professor Vejanib beamed.  “Excellent.  I'll settle the crowd outside and then I'll come back and get you; you may as well stay here for now.  Say your goodbyes.”  She strode out of the room.

Jothan made a move to sit down, but the Time Lord still had his hand.  “You'll cooperate, won't you?” the Time Lord asked quietly.  

Jothan looked deep into the Time Lord's eyes.  “I guess I'll have to do whatever they ask.  Oh, Doctor, I'm so scared . . .”  He also sent a telepathic message:  No TARDIS, no you . . . they're taking everything away . . .

“It's to keep you safe, Jothan,” the Doctor whispered aloud.  “You have to be safe.”

“What if your legal representative comes while I'm gone?”

The Doctor continued to stroke Jothan's hand.  “I don't see that happening for another few days yet, if not longer.  If she or he does come, I'll let them know about you and where you are.” 

“I wonder what that silly professor's telling all those people that want your head.  Probably nothing flattering.”  Jothan scowled at the door.

The Doctor replied, “She's not talking about me at all, hopefully.  This is supposed to be about you and why they should leave you alone.”

Jothan pulled his hand away from the Doctor and went to sit in the chair.  “I wish I wouldn't have to be away from you for so long . . .”

“You do, though.  Cooperate with their testing, smile at a camera or two, and you'll be back before you know it.”  The Doctor smiled at him.  “The press will eat you up . . . such a pretty boy . . .”

Jothan was insulted.  “I am not a pretty boy!” he protested.  “Just for that, I'm calling you 'Big Ears' next time we go out.”

The Doctor only sniggered.

Jothan picked up the book.  “I brought this.  I'm not sure if they'll let you have it or not, but I figured I could at least read it to you . . .”

“What's the title?” the Doctor questioned.

The medic looked.  “It's called Walking on the Moon:  An Anthology of Science Fiction and Fantasy.  Should I start at the beginning or just pick a story at random?”

“Pick one out, one that looks good.”

Jothan skimmed through the book until he found a title that looked interesting.  “How about The Martian Chronicles, by Ray Bradbury?  Can't hurt to give it a try.  It'll be neat to see what those in the far past thought about Mars; it's from the 1950's.”  

The Doctor smiled softly, settling in on the cot.  “Read away,” he offered.

Jothan was able to read a few chapters before lunch arrived.  He put down the book as the guard handed him a tray.  “Thank you,” he said gruffly.

The soldier gave a quick nod, then left with the others.

Jothan ate quickly so as to get back to the story.  He had not been reading long when Professor Vejanib appeared.  Shaking a little, Jothan stood and placed the book carefully on the chair.  “I'll be back to read you some more in a few days,” he said bravely.

“Keep well, Jothan,” the Doctor said in reply.

************  

Jothan followed the professor through the complex to an understated ground transport.  “Where are we going exactly?” he asked.

Professor Vejanib told him, “We're going into the city to the hospital there.  We're also picking up a colleague of mine, Doctor Zillinar.  He specializes in xenopsychology.”

“Is he from this planet?” Jothan was a little surprised.

“Yes,” the professor told him, “but he's spent a great deal of time off-planet with other species.  He's even spent time on your world, Sol Three.”

“Interesting,” was all Jothan would say.

They came to the gate.  The crowds were still there, waving their signs and chanting something.  Jothan didn't bother listening closely.  He wondered if any of those people realized they had the Doctor to thank for saving them.  He sincerely doubted it.

The city was all metal and glass, and Jothan craned his neck a few times to get a closer look at one of the more daring building designs.  He wished that he and the Doctor could have been exploring the city together.  “How many people live in the city?” he asked the professor.

“Approximately six million.  The rest live between here, New Spartane, and Almarack, the other two major cities on Rensica Prime.  The capital city is the largest, of course.”

“What is the city called?” the medic wanted to know.

“It's named Luveron.”

Before long they were in front of a building with green windows and two towers with large spheres on top.  “This is Opinske Hospital, the best on Rensica Prime.  We'll be doing our physical tests here.”  The professor stepped out of the vehicle, motioning for Jothan to follow her.

The next six hours were incredibly boring to Jothan.  He was scanned and poked and prodded by a large number of doctors.  They took samples of almost everything Jothan had, and did every test they could think of.  At least they treated him with respect, he sighed.

At last they were through.  Professor Vejanib left the hospital with a thick file of information.  As they were leaving, someone came up to the professor—a Rensican with dark shaggy hair and deep wrinkles in his forehead and around his eyes.  “Greetings, Ulnid!” he called.

“Peritox!” the professor answered back in a pleased voice.  “I was so grateful to hear you weren't off-planet again.  You got my message?”

The man looked serious.  “All my service told me was that you urgently needed my help with something involving planetary security, and to meet you here.  I came as soon as I could, though I'm no good to you if it's a military matter . . .” 

“It's not—not really.  Jothan, this is Doctor Zillinar, the xenopsychologist I told you about.  Peritox, this is Jothan, a sentient from Sol Three.  He came to us three days ago in the company of a Time Lord.”

The man frowned.  “Then the rumors are true?  A Time Lord has returned to Rensica Prime?”

“I'm afraid so,” Professor Vejanib said soberly.  “I'm trying to save Jothan from him.”

Doctor Zillinar turned to Jothan and held out his hand.  “Greetings, Jothan.  I expect the professor has told you something of our history with the Time Lords?”

Jothan kept his arms folded across his chest.  “She told me just a little, but it doesn't matter.  Do whatever tests and examinations you want, I'm not going to betray the Doctor.”

“Who?” the man asked.

“The Time Lord's name for himself,” the professor explained.  

The man glanced at the woman, then looked at Jothan again.  “Do you mind answering my questions, Jothan?  I assure you we mean no harm to you . . .”

“I'll answer your questions and take your tests, and when we're all done I'm going straight back to the Doctor,” Jothan said firmly.  There was no need to beat around the bush, he told himself.  “Despite what you think, I'm with the Doctor by my own free will, and intend to stay there.”

“Suppose you tell me something about yourself first,” Doctor Zillinar said affably.  “What do you do on Earth?”

Jothan was a little taken aback by the question.  As yet, no one had shown any interest in who Jothan was as a person.  “I'm a medic—what you would call a doctor.”

“And your speciality?” the man asked.

Jothan responded, “I specialized in trauma medicine, but on a space outpost or moon base you become a generalist whether you like it or not.  Call me a doctor of a little of everything.”

“Do you like your work?” Doctor Zillinar probed.

Jothan thought about it and said, “I haven't practiced medicine much since I started traveling with the Doctor, but yes, I like it.  It feels good to help people.”

“It is a good feeling,” the man agreed.  “So you mainly worked on space outposts and moon bases, then?”

“Yes.  I became a member of Earth Force Alliance as soon as I was done with medical school.  I thought it would give me the chance to see more of the universe.  Little did I know that the Doctor would show up and show me more than I'd ever dreamed.”

They were back in the vehicle by then.  Professor Vejanib said nothing, but was taking notes.  Doctor Zillinar seemed genuinely interested in what Jothan had to say, and he felt reasonably comfortable with the Rensican.  It was all just an act, Jothan told himself, but it couldn't hurt to answer the man's questions, and unlike anyone else he hadn't said anything bad about the Time Lord yet.

“So when did you meet the Doctor?” the man questioned.

“Fifteen months ago,” the medic responded.  “Our outpost was crashed into by some Bryylen, and he saved my life.  He asked me to come with him for a short trip, and I agreed.  Hasn't been that short of a trip, but . . .”

“You must have seen many marvels.  You hop from planet to planet sightseeing, then?”

“Oh, no,” Jothan shook his head.  “There's a little of that, but mostly we go to dangerous places and help people, trying not to get ourselves killed in the process.”

The doctor looked surprised.  “So it's unsafe?”

“Usually.  Lots of times the natives of a planet end up misunderstanding why we're there, and we end up in jail or worse.  Sometimes the natives understand and want our help, and it's the bad guys that are trying to kill us.  Still, the Doctor gets us out of trouble each and every time.”

“Do you like the danger?” the man wanted to know.

Jothan considered, then said, “Not exactly.  I don't like being locked up, and I hate it when people want to kill me, but it all works out in the end.  We are able to help, or we break out and escape, and we move on to the next adventure.”

“Who usually decides where you go?” the doctor questioned.

“Oh, it's the Doctor.  He'll ask me what kind of planet I want to go to, but then he chooses.  He knows so many more planets and times than I do, you see . . .”

“So you move from one dangerous adventure to the next, have I got that right?”  Doctor Zillinar seemed vitally interested.

“That's about it,” Jothan agreed.

“And what about the Doctor himself?  Does he ever get dangerous or frightening?”

Jothan responded without thinking.   “Only the once,” he admitted, “but it really wasn't his fault, not at all.”

They were back at the military compound.  Professor Vejanib led them to a small galley.  “I'll get us all some food,” she said, then left.

“You said that once the Doctor was dangerous, that he frightened you.  Can you tell me more about that time?”  Doctor Zillinar was looking intently at him.

Jothan shook his head, looking down at his shoes.  He shouldn't have mentioned it at all, he knew; he'd gotten carried away, forgetting that these people had ill will toward his companion.  Still, he had brought it up; now he had to make it sound as innocent as he could, or avoid it altogether.  “You'll get the wrong idea,” he mumbled, trying evasion first.  “Besides, he's saved me from ever so many other things . . .”

“You can tell me all about all those things as well if you wish, but right now I want to hear about when the Doctor scared you.”  The man looked at him seriously.

“The Doctor got bitten by an Ellryl on the planet Hetrios,” the medic said slowly, trying to be careful and say as little as he could.  “It made him . . . he changed.  He was all angry . . . he tied me up and hit me . . . but it wasn't his fault—it was the bite that did it, not him.”

“I see.  And what sort of things has the Doctor saved you from?” the man asked.

“Oh, there's ever so many . . . it was the Bryylen first . . . we've seen vampires and Jequenti and Marvolaxian Beritops . . .”

“I've been to Marvolax—horrid place,” the doctor agreed.

“And the Doctor saved you as well—got rid of the asteroid that was coming; blew it right off course.  It would have killed you all!”  The medic was stirred up now.  “Don't you see how much you owe the Doctor?  The least you can do is let us go.”

Professor Vejanib returned with the food.  Jothan looked down at his plate, and thought he recognized what was on it—it looked like fish.  He absolutely loathed fish, but there was nothing for it but to try and choke down at least a mouthful or two.  He could eat a regular meal back on the TARDIS, he told himself.

The professor and doctor both ate with a relish.  Jothan managed a bite or two of the fish, but left the rest.  “Aren't you hungry?” the professor asked, concerned.

“Not very,” Jothan told her, making up an excuse.  “I'm worried about the Doctor.  He shouldn't be in prison at all.  He didn't do anything . . .”  

Doctor Zillinar broke in then.  “I want to hear more about your travels, Jothan.  Do you ever go to safe places?”

“Sometimes,” Jothan agreed.  “We went to the Prataxen Pleasure Palace once for a holiday—only lasted about five days, though.  The Doctor needs to be out saving things; he gets bored easily.”

“I see,” the doctor commented.  “And what do you do in between adventures?”  

“We stay on the TA—on our ship.  I cook and do laundry and clean a little, and the Doctor works in his workshop or on the ship or something . . . but mostly we spend time in adventures.”

“You get along well?” the man asked.

Jothan was very careful.  He wasn't about to tell these people that he and the Doctor were lovers, but he wanted them to understand that they were more than mere friends.  “We have to—there's just the two of us.  We get along splendidly.”  He told the doctor more stories of the places they had traveled to, and how compatible he was with the Time Lord.

“Has the Time Lord ever told you anything about his life before meeting you?” Professor Vejanib asked suddenly.

Jothan jumped a little; he'd almost forgotten that the woman was there.  “He's told me some.  Mostly though, it's been just like what we do—he'd have a companion or two or three, and they'd travel the universe.”

“Did he tell you anything about the Time War?” the doctor asked.

Jothan frowned; again, he did not want to say too much.  “He told me some things.  He said the Time Lords went to war against the Daleks to save everyone.  I know a lot of people died . . . the Daleks killed them.”

“Did he ever say what happened to the Daleks?  Or to the other Time Lords?”  The professor was looking directly at him, eyes alight.

Jothan said steadily, “You'll have to ask him that.”  If the Doctor wanted these people to know his role in ending the Time War, they would not learn it from him, Jothan resolved.

The doctor stretched a little.  “I think it's time for me to excuse myself.  I'll return in the morning.  We'll talk more then, Jothan.  I want to hear more about the places you've seen.”

Professor Vejanib stood.  “Thank you so much, Peritox.  I'm sure you'll be a great help.  We'll see you to the gate.”

Jothan and the professor led Doctor Zillinar to the gate.  When the man was gone the professor said briskly, “I'll take you to your quarters.”

“I thought I was going back to my ship at night . . .”  Jothan was confused.

“I don't want you near that ship any more than I want you near the Time Lord.  You'll stay here,” the woman said firmly.

Jothan sighed, but followed the woman.

************  

The next day was a little more interesting, though much more annoying.  All day he was answering questions, taking tests, looking at inkblots, and otherwise engaged in mental tasks.  He was thoroughly sick of all the examining by lunchtime, but he had to keep going.  Surprisingly, Doctor Zillinar rarely got involved, leaving the interrogation to others.  He took notes but said little.  Professor Vejanib asked about lots of things, and always wound back around to the Doctor's 'hold' over him.  He was about ready to throw something at her by day's end.  Finally, he was allowed to go to bed.

On the third day away from the Doctor, Professor Vejanib and Doctor Zillinar took Jothan back to the city.  “We're here for the press conference I told you about the other day,” the professor said calmly.  “Doctor Zillinar and I will speak first, while you wait in another room.  Once we're done, we'll have you come out.  You'll be able to tell your story, and then the press will ask you a few questions.”

“Why don't I get to speak first?” Jothan wanted to know.

“We want to give the audience a frame of reference, Jothan.  If we stick you in front of the cameras without some explanation first, no one will know who you are or why they should listen.”  The professor was looking through her copious file of information.  “I promise you'll get a chance to tell your story.”

Jothan had to be content with that.  He knew he'd have to be very forceful and make sure the people of Rensica Prime knew how much they owed the Doctor.  He'd make sure they understood who had taken care of their asteroid problem and get those people outside the gates to change their tune, he told himself.

They came to a dome of reddish glass and bright copper metalwork.  “This is Communication One, the place where our news programs originate.  If it's news, it comes from here.”  The professor stepped out of the vehicle first, and then Jothan got out.  Doctor Zillinar brought up the rear.

They checked in at the welcome desk and received badges.  Everyone gave Jothan dirty looks, or seemed to be frightened of him.  Jothan tried to ignore the glares and fearful glances.  He wasn't here to make friends; he was here to save the Doctor, or at the very least tell the people the truth.

They got on an elevator and stopped on the fourth floor.  They checked in with their badges, and the person at the desk said briskly, “Professor, you and Doctor Zillinar look fine, but we'll have to take the alien to Wardrobe; we can't have him dressed like that.” 

Jothan balked.  “I'm an alien, and this is what aliens wear!  I'm not giving up my clothes!”

The professor tried to calm him.  “You'll get them back when we're done . . .”

The medic shook his head.  “Not happening.  This is all I have.  I may not have access to the Doctor, or to my ship, or anything else I know, but these clothes are mine and I'll keep them!”

Doctor Zillinar said mildly, “If he's an alien, it's only right that he should have alien clothing.  Let him keep what he has on; it's not a beauty pageant.”

The person at the desk sighed, but relented.  “Make-up is the third door on the right, and you can go directly to the Green Room from there.”

“What's a Green Room?” Jothan wanted to know.

“It's where a person waits before they go out on stage,” the professor explained.

They walked down the hall, and entered the make-up studio.  They were met by a bevy of make-up artists and hair stylists.  Jothan was whirled into a chair and covered with a smock before he knew it.  “I'm Vargo,” the man doing his makeup said smoothly.  “Oh, dear; you're so pale—and our regular make-up won't suit you at all; it'll just make you look sickly.  Fortunately, I have some Halloween make-up here . . . just sit still, doll.”

The man got to work quickly, smearing a little bit of something cool over Jothan's face, then working around his eyes.  “Close your eyes, doll,” the man said.  “I want to make sure that their green pops out at people.  Never seen green eyes before, but that's an alien for you.  Oh, this stuff is still too dark.  I'll just have to play around a bit . . .”

It took more than an hour before Vargo was satisfied.  “Best I can do, doll.  You'll knock 'em dead, alien or not.  Now, about the hair—do you always wear it tied back like that?  It'll look better if we let it loose from that thing and give it some style . . .”

After a few minutes, Jothan's hair was done to the make-up artist's satisfaction.  “All set, doll.  You can wait in the Green Room for your name to be called—the others are out on stage already.”

Jothan went in to the room where he was supposed to wait.  He was a little perturbed to find out the room wasn't green at all, but soon centered himself.  He had to make sure he made a good impression—the Doctor's life could depend on it.  He paced around the room, not opening the big black door that must lead to the studio.  When they were ready, he was sure they'd come for him.

At last, the door opened and Professor Vejanib came in.  “Come on out, Jothan; we're ready for you.  You don't have to be nervous.”

Jothan came out and walked up a short flight of steps.  He stepped through a silver door into another room.  As soon as he came through the door flashbulbs popped from many directions at once, and for a moment he couldn't see at all.  He stumbled against the professor, who righted him and waited until he was steady before nudging him forward.  He sat down at the table next to Doctor Zillinar, a microphone in front of him and a glass of water by his side.  It was impossible to tell how many people were in the room in front of him; the lights were too bright.  He could vaguely make out something which looked like an old-fashioned television camera.

“This is the alien that accompanied the Time Lord,” the professor said once she was seated.  “His name is Jothan.  He may look different from us, but medically and socially he's very similar to any Rensican you might meet on the street every day.  We've already discussed what brought Jothan here.  Now you have a chance to hear him yourself.  Go ahead, Jothan.  Say whatever you want.” 

“Um, . . . hello.  My name is Jothan . . . and I'm from Sol Three, far away from here.  I . . . I want you all to know that you shouldn't be afraid of the Time Lord who brought me here.  He's called the Doctor, and if it weren't for him, you'd all be dead from the asteroid that was going to hit.  Now, you are greatly in his debt for that, but he doesn't want payment or thanks; he just wants to be allowed to leave.  We want to be able to go home, and we deserve it after saving you lot.”

Jothan took a drink of water, then continued.  “A lot of you blame the Time Lords for the Time War that did damage to your world and killed many people.  I want you to understand that it wasn't the Time Lords that killed anyone; it was the Daleks.  They were the ones responsible for the devastation and the deaths.  And even if you were going to blame the Time Lords for some of it, the Doctor wasn't the one responsible, so you can't go blaming him.  That's . . . that's all I have to say.”

“We'll now take a few questions from the press,” the professor stated.  “We're going to try and keep the Q&A limited to about five minutes, so you aren't all going to get a turn.  When you ask a question of Jothan, remember that he is an alien and doesn't necessarily think exactly the way we do.  The floor is open.”

There was a sound of pushing and shoving as the reporters all tried to be first in line for the microphone.  After a few seconds, one asked, “Professor Vejanib, how long has the Time Lord been in custody, and has he made any demands?”

The professor answered smoothly, “The Time Lord has been in custody five days, and the only thing he has asked for so far is that his companion be cared for.”

Another reporter asked, “Do the aliens have any weapons which might be a threat to Rensica Prime?”

“We have found no weapons of any kind,” the professor answered.

“Doctor Zillinar, is the alien Jothan sane in your professional opinion?” the next reporter queried.

The doctor responded, “Sanity has different meanings on different planets, so your question is complicated.  However, it is my professional opinion that Jothan is sane, just confused.”

“Jothan, how many children do you have?  Do they miss you?”

Jothan blinked, then answered carefully, “I don't have any children, or a wife or anything, just the Doctor.  He's all I want.”

Another reporter spoke.  “Professor, what is being done to protect Jothan from the Time Lord at this juncture?”

“We have separated the two for now, and are running extensive tests to see what we can do,” the professor stated.  “It may be that no treatment is possible; we're still gathering data.”

The next reporter asked, “Jothan, do you and the Time Lord have sexual relations?”

Jothan's response was automatic.  “That's none of your business!” he said hotly.

The room immediately went dead silent.  Even the flashbulbs were still.  Jothan realized he'd made a terrible mistake; he should have lied straight out rather than let them speculate.  He was going to try and recover the situation when the doctor said firmly, “Next question.”

For a moment, the silence ruled.  Then another reporter asked, “Doctor Zillinar, does this new revelation give you any treatment strategies?”

“It's something to consider,” the doctor replied.

“Professor Vejanib, did the Time Lord really save us from the asteroid?”

The professor was quiet for a moment, but at last she said, “Yes.  Yes, he did.”

Another reporter stepped up to the mike.  “Jothan, what will you do if the Time Lord is executed for war crimes?”

Jothan wasn't sure what to say.  “I . . . I don't know.  I wouldn't be able to get home . . . I'd have to stay here, I guess . . . I don't even want to think about it; I'd rather die than lose the Doctor.”

“Professor Vejanib, what does this situation mean for the future of alien relations?” 

She responded firmly, “That is a matter for the Prime Minister, not me.”

“How soon will the trial be held?” was the next question.

“Again,” Professor Vejanib explained, “that is in the hands of the Prime Minister.  Rest assured that a war crimes tribunal will be assembled as soon as possible, and the Time Lord tried.”

“Jothan, how are you being treated?  Are you in custody as well?”

Jothan sighed.  “I'm . . . I'm treated well, I guess, though I have to stay on the base.  I'm not allowed to see the Doctor or go to my ship, but they're nice to me.  They're running a lot of tests on me right now.”

“Doctor Zillinar, have you seen the Time Lord?  Is he insane?”

The doctor replied, “I have not seen the Time Lord yet myself, so I have no opinion as to his sanity.  At the very least he was foolish to come here.”

Understatement of the century, Jothan thought.  And it's all my fault.  I forced him to come.

The next reporter asked,“Doctor Zillinar, what will happen to Jothan if he is able to be freed from the mind control of the Time Lord?”

“I cannot speculate on that matter; a lot of it will depend on Jothan himself, what he wants to do.”  The doctor was firm in his answer.

“Jothan, what do you think of Rensica Prime?”

Jothan couldn't keep the anger out of his voice.  “I think you're a bunch of ungrateful gits!” he snapped.  “What do you think I think of you?  You have my companion under arrest for something he didn't do and you want to kill him!  What would you bloody well think?!”

“Professor, what has been done with the alien ship that brought the Time Lord here?”

“Actually, we haven't found the Time Lord's craft yet,” the woman admitted.  “We're still searching for it.  If it's found, we will take it directly to Buatalo military installation.” 

A reporter questioned, “Jothan, did you grow up under the control of the Time Lord?”

Jothan kept his voice steady.  “I'm not under his control, and no; I've only been with him fifteen months.  I chose to come with him, and I choose to be with him now.”

“Professor Vejanib, are there any indications that the Daleks have returned as well?”

“We are keeping a vigilant watch, but as of yet there has been no sign of the Daleks.  They are gone, never to return.”

“We thought the Time Lords were gone as well!” the reporter protested.

“That is not a question,” the professor said pointedly.  “I won't have worrisome rumors spread that the Daleks are back.  There is no sign of them anywhere; they are gone.  The Time Lords completed at least that much, for all the evil they did.”

“Has anyone spoken to the Time Lord to ask him why he came to Rensica Prime?” a reporter called out.

Jothan was quick to reply.  “We arrived here solely because of the distress beacon you were sending out.  If it weren't for that we never would have come.”

“Jothan, how many other worlds have you been to?”  

Jothan considered.  “I lost count long ago.  Well over a hundred.”

Another reporter came to the microphone.  “Jothan, why did the Time Lord choose you as a companion?”

Jothan stammered, “I . . . I don't . . . I'm not sure, exactly.  I guess he liked me.”

The next reporter asked, “Professor Vejanib, usually criminals are released under their own recognizance until a trial can be held.  Why isn't this being done for the Time Lord?”

“I don't understand all the legal significance of that choice, but one reason is he's a flight risk.  Another is that he might get killed before his trial if he's just out walking the streets of Rensica Prime.”  The professor paused, then continued firmly, “We are not trying to deny him his rights.”

“When will the press be allowed access to the Time Lord?”

Professor Vejanib replied, “I have no idea if the press will have access to the Time Lord at all.  He is being held on military soil, and military rules apply.  Last question.”

“Jothan, do you miss your home planet?”

Jothan answered quietly.  “No.  Traveling with the Doctor is an incredible life, more fulfilling than anything I would have had at home.”

The professor stood.  “Thank you all for coming.  We will be giving regular updates as this situation unfolds.  Right now we need to get Jothan back to Buatalo and continue our tests.  Again, thank you all.” 

There was a clamor of voices as Jothan and Doctor Zillinar stood and walked out of the room, following Professor Vejanib.  Once they were in the Green Room, Doctor Zillinar sighed with relief.  “I'm glad that's over.  Will we be able to get out of here without attracting attention?”

“There's a back way; I instructed our transport to meet us there.  I think that was very successful, myself.”  The professor turned to Jothan, a look of pity on her face.  “I'm so sorry that the Time Lord has . . . damaged you the way he has.  If you—”

“Enough, Ulnid,” the doctor broke in quickly.  “We're not discussing that now; I have some questions I want to ask you first.  It's all right, Jothan; you haven't done anything wrong.”

Jothan didn't say anything; he knew he had already done enough damage.  Anything he could say now would only make things worse for the Doctor.  Listlessly he followed the professor and Doctor Zillinar down the back steps to the waiting transport.

************  

  “I want to see the Doctor, now.”  Jothan was calm, but firm.  They had returned from the city, and Jothan was supposed to be working on yet another test.

“You agreed that you would be away from him for five days, Jothan, and it hasn't even been a full three yet.  We have more work to do right now, so focus on your personality test.”  The professor was firm as well.

Jothan's voice broke a little.  “I need to see him!  I just sold him out, and I need to speak to him.  He has to know that I didn't mean it . . .”

“Two more days, not counting the rest of today,” Professor Vejanib told him.

“But I need him!”

“I know this must be hard for you, Jothan,” Doctor Zillinar told him.  “How about a compromise—I can give him a message from you.  I would like to meet him for myself, you know.”

“It won't be the same . . .” Jothan moaned.

“It's the best I can do,” the man told him.

“Then tell him . . . tell him that I sold him out when they asked me about sex, and that I'm so very sorry.”

“I have absolutely no idea what that means, Jothan.  Are you sure your friend will?”

“He'll understand,” Jothan said quietly.  “And he'll be angry, too.  But tell him.”

Doctor Zillinar got out a pen and paper.  “Let me write this down, so I get it right.”

Jothan repeated the message, then asked anxiously, “You will tell him I'm sorry?”

“I will Jothan, but if he truly cares for your welfare he'll forgive you, no matter what kind of mistake you've made.”  The doctor rose.  “Ulnid, if I could speak to you for a moment outside . . .”

“Finish your test, Jothan; I'll be right back.”  Professor Vejanib walked with the doctor and left the room.

Jothan sighed, then continued working on the test.  It was such a shame that they didn't have computers to do all this paper stuff on, Jothan thought; they could save millions of trees that way.  He wondered what they would think back home to see all that paper go to waste, then decided it was better that they couldn't; there would be a lot of people in jail otherwise.  Real wood was too precious a commodity in his time to be written on. 

He answered the last question and set the test aside.  He wished these people would stop asking him questions and just let him go back to the Doctor, but there was nothing for it; he had agreed to five days of this, and it appeared that they wanted every second.  Idly he wondered what was taking the professor so long.  His eye fell to the thick file sitting on the table—the file the professor was keeping on him.  The medic wondered if he could sneak a quick look before the woman returned.  Hurriedly he got up and opened the file.  

The medical information was on top.  Jothan dismissed all of it and dug deeper; he knew what state of health he was in.  He skipped the information on whatever his his Intelligence Quotient was; he already knew he was intelligent.  Finally he came to something interesting—a stack of papers connected by wire down one side with what looked like hand-written notes inside.  He carefully slid the other information aside and pulled out the bound papers.

At first, he thought it had been a waste—it was very difficult for him to read what had been written in the pages.  Once again he wished for a computer notebook which would have had typing instead of writing.  At last he was able to pick out a few words—his name, for one, and “resistive to treatment” further on.  On the second page he found a list of different types of tests, some of which were marked off with an “X”.  Jothan read down the list quickly.  One of the items not marked off read “Deprogramming”.  It had a star next to it.  Jothan wasn't sure what that meant, but it sounded unpleasant.  Another item read “Hallucinogens”.  He knew what that meant, and shuddered.  He didn't want to be pumped full of drugs, especially not that type.  “Hypnosis” was also on the list.  Jothan had no idea what that was either, but wasn't eager to try it.  At the bottom of the list was “ECT”.

Just then he heard a voice behind him say quietly, “If you want any of that explained, I'll be happy to tell you what it means.”

Jothan dropped the papers, which would have scattered everywhere had they not been bound together with the thin spiral of wire.  The professor picked up the stack and put it back on the table.  “Really, Jothan, I'll explain any of it you don't understand.”

“What is 'hypnosis', and 'ECT'?  And is 'deprogramming' as bad as it sounds?”  Jothan tried to hold his voice steady.

The woman explained, “Hypnosis is an altered state of consciousness that makes a person more . . . likely to go along with certain things, or avoid other things.  It can be very effective.”

Jothan was unimpressed.  “Sounds weird to me.  Is that next?”

“I would like to try hypnosis with you, but that can wait until tomorrow.  Deprogramming is more complex.  It is a way to break serious, deep-set control over a person.  Unfortunately, it takes a very long time.”

“Well,” Jothan told her, “You've only got two more days, so that's out.”

Professor Vejanib nodded.  “I was hoping that we would be able to weaken the link between you and the Time Lord to some extent, and then finish the process with deprogramming.  If you're further along by then, it's still an option.”

Jothan sighed.  “That leaves drugs and whatever ECT is.  I don't like drugs, especially not the kind that mess with your mind.  Some of them leave permanent damage.”

“Not the ones we use,” the professor pointed out.  “And before you try to tell me that you're too different from a Rensican, Doctor Zillinar has used them on your kind as well, and found them to be both effective and safe, with no lasting effects.  We're going to try some this afternoon.  But for now, let's get you some food.” 

Jothan sighed and followed the professor to the room where they had been eating their meals, hoping there wouldn't be fish.  He was glad to see that lunch was a salad with interesting vegetables.  Jothan loved vegetables.  He finished quickly, then asked, “So, where will you be giving me these drugs?”

The woman swallowed, then replied, “We have a special room for that, but we're going to wait until Doctor Zillinar can join us.  He's the expert in this area.  Don't worry, Jothan; it's all perfectly safe.  We wouldn't be going to all this trouble if we just wanted you dead.”

Jothan knew that the professor had a point.  “Why are you going to all this trouble just over me anyway?  It's not like I'm important . . .”

“If the Time Lord has you enslaved it's very important,” the woman told him earnestly.  “We Rensicans believe that every sentient being should be free.”

“And if I'm not enslaved?  What if I am with the Doctor by my own choice?”

The professor shook her head sadly.  “If that is so, then it is.  It doesn't change the fact that the Time Lord is here, or that he'll be tried for war crimes.  If you are freely traveling with the Time Lord, I truly feel sorry for you.  I don't see how anyone could choose to be with a creature like a Time Lord.”

“Why don't you people hate the Daleks?  They're the ones—”

The woman held up a hand.  “Perhaps I have not explained our position fully, Jothan.  We do hate the Daleks and what they have done to our planet.  If a Dalek had shown up on Rensica Prime it would be destroyed and burning by now, and no one would think twice about it.  But the first fault lies with the Time Lords.  They're the ones who manipulated our people into siding with them, goading us to do their will.  They sealed our fate.”

“Tell me the truth,” the medic asked soberly.  “Is there even a chance that the Doctor will be found innocent?”

“It is difficult to tell,” Professor Vejanib replied.  “As you say, it is doubtful that the Time Lord is one of the original Time Lords who came to Rensica Prime to ask for aid.  Perhaps the tribunal will take that under advisement . . . but to be frank, I doubt that the tribunal will be able to acquit.  The pressure from the citizens of Rensica Prime to convict will be overwhelming, and the possible backlash from an acquittal tremendous.  Unless aliens are brought in to make up the body of the tribunal, I  would have to say that the Time Lord has no chance whatsoever.”

“And what is the punishment for war crimes likely to be?”  Jothan's voice quavered a little.

The professor sighed.  “Death.  If the Time Lord is found guilty, he will be beheaded, thus preventing him from regenerating.”

“Thank you for being honest,” Jothan whispered.  He knew then what he would have to do.  He couldn't allow the Doctor to go to trial; he would have to rescue him before things got that far.  He wondered if he should even wait for the legal representative to arrive; once they did, time would be limited.  He would have to find some way to get the Doctor out of his cell and to the TARDIS, and he would have to do it alone.

Before he could think any more on the subject, Doctor Zillinar came in to join them.  “Well, Peritox?” Professor Vejanib asked.  “Is our Time Lord sane?”

“Sane?  Absolutely no idea,” the doctor sighed.  “Arrogant, no doubt whatsoever.  Wanted to take credit for single-handedly ending the Time War.  Says he's the last Time Lord left too, which would be a relief if he's telling the truth.  He did give me a message to pass on to you, Jothan.  He said that of course he forgives you, and to remember the first time in the Zero Room, to hold the memory close to you.  He didn't seem angry at all, just worried about you.”

Jothan sighed with relief.  At least the Doctor wasn't furious with him.  “Is he all right?  They haven't hurt him, have they?”

“Of course not!”  Doctor Zillinar sounded very surprised.  “We're not animals or traitors, Jothan.  If we say the Doctor's going to get a trial, he'll get a trial, and he'll be in perfect health when that trial comes.  But enough about him for now.  I want to talk to you about your next test.”

Jothan said bitterly, “I already know—you're going to pump me full of drugs, stand back, and watch me twitch.”

The doctor seemed horrified.  “Oh no, Jothan, it's not going to be like that at all!  We will give you a small, controlled dose of medication and escort you through the process.  This medication will stimulate certain centers of the brain where the unnatural bond between you and the Doctor may be hiding.  It's perfectly safe; I've led humans through it before.  No side effects, no hidden damage, nothing harmful in the least.  And you won't be alone; I'll be your guide through the whole thing.”

Jothan looked down at his empty plate.  “I don't like drugs,” he mumbled.

“But as a doctor you know they have their uses,” Doctor Zillinar reminded him.  “Where would we be without antibiotics, or pain medication, or anesthetics?  Now let's go get started.”

Professor Vejanib led the way back to her building.  They entered and went into a medium-sized room near the back.  It had no windows, and was padded along the walls and floor.  In one corner stood a desk and chair, both padded on the edges and bolted to the floor.  An armless, wide padded bench in the middle of the room was bolted down as well.  “Inviting,” Jothan commented sourly.

“The furniture is set in place for safety so there's nothing to throw if someone gets scared,” the doctor reassured him.  “The medication itself is in my briefcase, which I left in the Professor's office.  I'll go get it, and she will be leaving us.  We'll see her later.”  

“Where's she going?” Jothan wanted to know.  

The man told him, “She can watch from the room next door; there are cameras in the corners of the room, if you look carefully.  Doesn't do to have extra people in the room during treatment.  Now just have a seat here, and I'll be right back.”

Jothan sat on the bench in the center of the room.  The doctor returned with a hypodermic syringe and a square of antiseptic paper.  He swabbed Jothan down with the antiseptic and injected him with the drug.  “I'll just throw these away outside, and I'll be right back.  The medication won't start affecting you for ten minutes or so; why don't you get comfortable on the couch there.”  He stepped out for a moment, then returned and sat down at the desk to wait.

************  

The first indication Jothan got that the drug was working was when his hand started to itch.  He went to scratch it, and found that his vision was doubling in a strange way.  He was all right doing the task with his eyes closed, but trying to watch got him all confused.  He moved his hand this way and that, and watched extra hands move along with his real ones.  He tried again, but after a while, the extra hands started doing things on their own.  It was odd, because he was starting to feel both his hands and the phantom hands at the same time.  When he closed his eyes, things were fine, but when he opened them, he could both see and feel the extra hands, opening and closing by themselves.    

Jothan stood to his feet and noticed he was a little wobbly.  He gave himself time to adjust, then walked carefully over to the desk where the doctor was sitting.  “I think something's happening,” he said unsteadily.  “I grew an extra hand or two somehow, and they don't want to do what I tell them.”

“That's all right, Jothan,” the man said calmly.  “Why don't you lie back down on the couch and tell me all about it.”

Jothan slowly went back over to the couch.  He wasn't sure he could make it without falling; his feet felt like they had puffed out to an impossibly big size.  He looked down, and found that it was true—his feet had grown huge.  He wiggled them around, watching them bob up and down like helium balloons.  “I've got funny feet,” he told the doctor, giggling a little.  “They might float away without me.”

“Your feet will be fine, Jothan,” Doctor Zillinar said gently.  “Just lie down on the couch.”

Jothan sat down on the couch.  He stuck his feet out straight in front of him and watched as they swayed in the air.  One of them was striped, and the other spotted.  He stared at them for a long while, then got tired of looking at them and closed his eyes.

He opened them again immediately, startled by what he had seen.  He glanced around him, seeing the padded walls and the doctor standing close.  He closed his eyes, slowly this time.  What he saw was impossible.  He was looking at his feet again, stretched out in front of him, but this time they were in black boots.  He was sitting on something like the couch, but it was covered by a brown cloth.  When he moved his eyes upward, he could see a red grid of light about three feet in front of him, and beyond it a chair with a book sitting on the seat.

Jothan snapped his eyes open again.  He was back in the other room again.  Doctor Zillinar was standing next to him, asking something, but Jothan couldn't hear him well; it seemed like the man was very far away.  When he closed his eyes again, he was back in that other place.  He looked around him again, though his eyes were closed.  He saw a toilet and sink to his right, and beyond them a shower with clear walls.  He looked back ahead of him, seeing the grid of red and the chair with the book lying on its seat.  It was getting more and more real now; he could almost feel the roughness of the blanket under his hands, hear the faint hum of the lasers across the front of the cell.  He opened his mouth to say one word.  “Doctor?”

“Sweet Rassilon—is that you, Jothan?  What's happening?”

Even as he heard the words in his ears, he could feel himself saying them.  Though he was definitely lying on the couch in the padded room with Doctor Zillinar, somehow he was also in the cell with the Doctor, his Doctor,—no, inside the Doctor.  He could feel the double heartbeat thudding away in his chest, feel the intake of each breath that was somehow his own, yet not his own.  He could see the details of the cell clearly, see and hear and feel it all.  “Doctor?” he managed.  “Doctor, I'm here!”

As he heard the words the Doctor spoke, he felt them being shaped by his mouth.  “Tell me what's happening, Jothan.  What's going on?!”

“I . . . I don't know,” Jothan managed to answer.  “They drugged me, gave me something . . . I'm not sure what.  I can see what you see, feel what you feel, everything . . . can you do the same?”

“No, Jothan.  I can hear you, but nothing else.  Are you all right?  Are they hurting you?”

As the words came, Jothan felt a sudden rush of fear, along with a measure of determination.  He could feel the Doctor get to his feet heading for the laser grid, and Jothan felt his own legs and feet move in response.  “Jothan, answer me—are they hurting you?” 

“I'm afraid—all of the sudden, afraid . . .”  He opened his eyes again and found things worse—now the world through the Doctor's senses was superimposed over his own sense experience.  He was somehow able to exist in both realities at the same time, though how it was possible was beyond him.  He could feel Doctor Zillinar by his side, shaking his shoulder roughly and saying urgently, “Jothan, I want you to concentrate on being here in this room.  Concentrate . . .”

The fear was growing now, and the determination with it.  Jothan found himself shouting, “Let me out!  I need to get out, get to Jothan.  You're hurting him—let me out!”  

Suddenly, the medic understood—the fear and other feelings weren't his at all; he was just feeling them through the Doctor.  “Doctor, wait—I'm . . . your feelings are affecting me . . .”

“Let me OUT!” the Doctor was yelling, and Jothan in synch with him.  He reached out for the controls for the lasers near the door . . . and accidentally brushed one of the beams.  Pain shot through his left arm, and a burn appeared on his hand.

Jothan screamed, a burn coming out on his left hand.  Suddenly he felt a sting in his right arm, and he could hear Doctor Zillinar saying distantly, “This should work almost immediately Jothan, and counteract the medication I gave you.  Just hold on; you'll be all right.”

Abruptly, it was all over.  Jothan was back in his own body, with no sight or sense of the Doctor left.  He closed his eyes trying to clear his head, then looked around.  Sure enough, he was alone with Doctor Zillinar.  He went to the couch and sat down slowly.  “I need to see the Doctor immediately.”  He turned his left hand over, examining the burn there.  It was throbbing, and badly blistered.

Doctor Zillinar was shaken.  “Yes, of course.  We'll get you over there right away.”

Professor Vejanib was waiting for them at the door.  “Peritox, what in the world happened in there?!  Did we get any closer to a solution?”

“There's no hope, Ulnid,” the doctor said tiredly.  “The medication I gave Jothan strengthened the bond between them rather than weakening it.  He was, for a time, both the Time Lord and himself, through whatever link they already possess.  It's altogether likely that we'll kill one or both of them if we attempt to cut that bond.  I'm taking Jothan back over to the Time Lord's cell.”

The professor looked sad at first, then resolute.  “I'll come with you,” she decided.

The three walked over to the main complex.  No one spoke at first, but finally the professor said, “I'm sorry we can't free you from the Time Lord, Jothan, but as I promised you'll be allowed to spend as much time with him as you can.  If there's anything else I can do for you . . .”

Jothan thought quickly.  He remembered the woman telling the reporters at the press conference that they were still looking for the TARDIS.  That meant that if he tried to get to it, it would be discovered.  “Can I stay on the base during the nights?  I'm afraid of the crowds . . .”

Professor Vejanib nodded.  “I'll go make arrangements right now; I won't be long.”  

Doctor Zillinar and Jothan made their way through the checkpoints and into the room where the 

cell was.  The Doctor was pacing back and forth like a caged animal.  He stopped and reached out a hand through the laser grid, and the medic hurried over to hold it.  “You all right?” Jothan asked worriedly.

“Just a little singed,” the Doctor reassured.  “It'll heal up in an hour or so.  Now let me look—I want to know how badly I hurt you.”

Reluctantly Jothan showed the Doctor his left hand.  Jothan could see the guilt and pain in the Time Lord's eyes, but all he said was, “Make sure you get that cared for—it looks nasty.” 

Jothan reached back through the lasers with his other hand, and the Doctor took it.  Jothan told him telepathically, I'm not sure exactly what happened, but I think it has to do with the weak telepathic link we have with each other.  Somehow, the drug they gave me augmented my powers in such a way that I was both in myself and you at the same time.  Guess they've been right all along; we DO have a special connection.

“I was worried,” the Time Lord said aloud.  “I thought something was wrong, that they were hurting you.”

“They weren't, not really,” Jothan answered.  Either the Doctor didn't want to use telepathy with the medic, or he was speaking for the benefit of Doctor Zillinar, who was standing near the door observing them intently.  Jothan knew the Doctor found telepathic communication difficult, but maybe he wanted the Rensican to hear what he had to say.  The medic wasn't sure which, so he asked with his mind, No telepathy?

Too hard, the Doctor responded in kind.  And they'll get suspicious.

They stood together quietly for a while, holding hands.  Finally Jothan pulled away, remembering that they were being watched.  They had probably already given away too much information on how they felt about each other, but he had needed to connect with the Doctor when he first came in.  He went over to the chair and picked up the book.  “Want me to read some more?”

“A moment, if you please,” Doctor Zillinar interrupted.  “You knew all along that the bond between the two of you couldn't be broken, didn't you, Doctor?”

The Doctor looked at the Rensican, his face unreadable.  “I knew Jothan wouldn't turn on me, but . . . even I didn't know how strong our connection could become.  Whatever you gave him amplified what was already there to unheard of levels.  What did you give him, by the way?”

Doctor Zillinar said slowly, “It's called manaxitrel.  I've used it on many species before, even humans, but I've never witnessed a reaction quite like that.  He actually received an injury that you sustained.  I didn't know such a bond between two creatures could exist.”

The Time Lord shrugged.  “Jothan's special.  I take it his being here means you're all done with your fancy tests and experiments?”

The other man nodded.  “We would have to slay Jothan to release him from the bond.  It means he'll perish if you end up being executed—”

The Doctor shook his head.  “Don't count Jothan out so quickly.  I told you; he's special.  He'll find a way to survive.”

Doctor Zillinar stepped forward eagerly.  “Then the bond can be broken!”

“Never said that,” the Time Lord responded airily.  “Just said he wouldn't die just because I did.  He might be killed if he were on the drug at the time, but otherwise . . .”

“You don't know either, do you Doctor?”  the Rensican asked.  “You have no clue if the connection between you and Jothan can be severed.”

The Time Lord grinned.  “Nope, no idea.”

“Rest assured Doctor, that if it's possible for the link to be broken, we will find a way,” Doctor Zillinar said firmly.

Jothan threw up his hands.  “Now look what you've done, stupid!  I'll have to go back with them for two more days.  Why did you have to tell them anything?  I want to be with you!”

“Jothan, as long as they're trying to separate us, you'll be under their protection.  They'll give you a place to stay and feed you and everything.  Once they give up, they have no reason to do any of those things, and they'll throw you out on your ear—you'll have to fend for yourself.”

“We wouldn't do that, Time Lord,” a new voice spoke from the doorway.  “I gave you my word that I would look after Jothan, and I am a woman of my word.”

The medic spun around to see Professor Vejanib there, something in her hands.  “I made the arrangements, Jothan; you can stay on the base as long as you need to.”  She walked over to him and told him, “This is healing salve and a bandage for your burn.  I also brought something to clean it with.  Do you need me to do it for you?”

“I can manage,” Jothan told her.  “Thank you.”  He put the supplies on the chair and swiftly tended to his injured hand.  He looked over at her and asked, “Where do I dispose of these things?”

The woman held out her hand.  “I'll take care of them.”

Jothan gave her the trash, and she slipped it into her jacket pocket.  

“The Time Lord was just telling me that he isn't sure if the link between Jothan and himself can be severed or not,” Doctor Zillinar said.  “We still have at least two days to work with, Ulnid . . .”

The professor considered.  “I'm not sure if we should even try, Peritox.  I want you free, Jothan, but I don't want to put your life in danger doing it.”  She made her decision.  “We'll stop testing for now; I want to go over the information we've already gathered before we do anything else.  Just remember, Jothan—you still owe me two days of cooperation, and I may ask for them at some point.”

The medic nodded.  “I understand.  I still say you're wasting your time.  I know you think you're trying to help, but I really do want to be with the Doctor, of my own choosing.”

All the professor would say was, “We'll see.  The guards will direct you to a place where you can stay.  You'll have limited freedom on the base, but you're not a prisoner; you're the Time Lord's pawn.”

At first, Jothan was going to argue, but then he decided to keep quiet.  Some of what the Doctor had said was true; these people would treat him better if they kept the belief that he was enslaved.  That could be useful when it came time to make their escape.  “I do thank you for your concern,” he told her.

“Of course,” the woman smiled.  “We'll leave you for now, though I'll probably check back with you tomorrow.” She and Doctor Zillinar left.

Jothan went back over to the Doctor and took his hand, sighing with relief.  “Why did the drug they used do what it did to me?”

“Manaxitrel affects telepaths in a completely different way than non-telepaths; it amplifies telepathic powers to an astonishing degree.  On some planets it's used by telepaths as a recreational drug, but like many drugs a person can build up a tolerance and need more and more to get the same effect.  It's sometimes used as treatment for those in comas or other fugue states to try and break the person out of it.  I have no idea where Doctor Zillinar would have got some, but don't let them use it on you again; it can be dangerous.”

“I won't.”  Jothan paused, then used telepathy again.  They're looking for the TARDIS.   

The Doctor concentrated hard, and answered in kind.  They can't find her, Jothan; they would try to destroy her, and they might have the weapons to do it.  Another reason you have to stay here.

Jothan spoke quietly.  “I'll make sure I'm very careful.  Did your representative arrive yet?”

“No.  The Prime Minister came, told me he was having tremendous difficulty finding an objective representative and asked if I would accept someone from off-world.  Said it could take months, but that he was willing if I would accept.  Had me sign papers and everything.”

“The longer, the better, I guess,” Jothan told him.  He used telepathy once more.  I'm going to get you out of this, one way or another.  Professor Vejanib said there's virtually no chance of you getting acquitted.  I won't let it come to that.  I will rescue you, somehow.

“Just remember, I need you to be safe,” the Doctor urged.  “Don't do anything dodgy.  Promise me, Jothan.”

The medic shook his head.  “I'll keep as safe as I can, but I want you protected as well.  So they're just going to keep you locked up like an animal for months?”

“No; they said that in a few days they would take me out for a short while.  I'll be under heavy guard, of course . . .”

“I wish we could spend a little time together . . .” Jothan said wistfully.  “I miss you terribly.”

The Doctor sighed.  “I miss you as well, Jothan.”

Jothan sat down and picked up the book.  “Shall we continue?”

************  

Jothan woke up early the next morning.  He wished he could go to the TARDIS and get a change of clothing, but he knew it was too dangerous.  He decided he would have to speak with Professor Vejanib and see what she could do.  He showered in the small bathroom next to the room he was sleeping in, then went to the mess hall for some food.  The medic showed his badge to the person on duty, who gave him a tray and showed him where to go.  Ignoring the curious stares and sympathetic glances from the soldiers, he focused instead on what he had been served.  The main serving of food appeared to be scrambled eggs, but they were a light shade of violet.  There was some sort of fruit as well, and what could have been sausage, and a bowl of something like oatmeal.  He got silverware and a paper napkin at a station near the window and found an empty table to sit at.  Once he was finished, he put his tray with other dirty ones, then set off to the brig.  The guards let him in, and he spent his day reading to the Time Lord.

Late in the afternoon, the soldiers came in unexpectedly.  This time, the female guard had some bright pink fabric with her.  “Put this on,” she told the Doctor stiffly.  “We need you and your companion to come with us.”

Jothan watched the Doctor unfold the fabric.  It was a jumpsuit.  Jothan was held in the chair by a guard while the Doctor stripped off his outer clothes and changed into it.  The soldiers gave him thin slippers to replace his boots, and put bulky handcuffs on him.  Then they left the cell.  A guard was in front and the Doctor next, then the female guard, with Jothan following her and the last soldier in the rear.  The female soldier had her weapon drawn and pressed into the Doctor's back.  Jothan didn't like that at all, but there was nothing he could do.  

The party went down a maze of hallways before they reached a metal door across from a guard post.  The first soldier opened the door and motioned for the Doctor to go inside.  The Doctor stepped in, but froze at the threshold when he saw what was in the room.  The female guard had to poke him in the back twice before he moved again.  Jothan went in the chamber and stopped short himself.  The general was waiting in the room, which was empty save for the TARDIS.

General Fetinsee wasted no time.  “This was found last night about a quarter-mile from the base.  We have scanned it several times with different instruments, but got no readings of any kind.  I assume it is yours?  What kind of weapon is it?”

The Doctor did not answer.

The general spoke rudely.  “I asked you if this was yours.  If you refuse to reply, we shall destroy it and throw your companion off the base permanently.  Now, what kind of weapon is it?”

“It's not a weapon,” the Time Lord said softly.  “It's my ship.”

The general walked around the TARDIS twice, grunting a few times.  “Hardly more than a life-pod.  It is special Time Lord technology?”

“Yes,” the Doctor sighed.

“There are records that indicate this kind of craft is extremely advanced,” the general continued.  “It can travel both in space and time, and is somehow larger inside than without.  This is true?”

“Yes,” the Time Lord replied at last.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn't have it obliterated on the spot!”

The Doctor hardly spoke above a whisper.  “It's Jothan's home.  His food, his bed, his belongings—all of it's in there.  I assure you, it's not a danger to you or your men.”

General Fetinsee spun around to face the medic.  “You are like us, though you look a little different; the tests Professor Vejanib performed confirm it.  There's no way you can pilot a craft like this.  Are the controls holding you in bondage to this Time Lord inside as well?”

“There are no such controls,” Jothan said fiercely, forgetting his earlier decision to let the Rensicans think he was under the Doctor's power.  “I'm with the Doctor—”

The general waved his hand.  “Enough.  Of course you're not going to say anything else.”  He turned back to the Doctor.  “You, Time Lord, will not be allowed near this ship again.  I'm going against procedure letting it remain intact at all.  Guards, return the prisoner to his cell.  I have given orders that no one is to try to enter the craft—it has special powers that protect it from intruders.”  The general watched as the Doctor was marched away by two of the guards.  He turned from the door and said sourly, “Now you . . . Jothan is your name?”

“Yes,” Jothan replied cautiously.  “You're wrong about—”

“You will have limited access to this craft,” the general said flatly.  “You can't fly it, and you would only destroy yourself if you try to use its weapons on us.  You may enter it at night only, and you will be thoroughly searched when you exit in the morning.  This is well beyond protocol, but Professor Vejanib has a great deal of influence with the Prime Minister, and it's out of my hands.  You certainly are popular with the press—and with the professor.”

Jothan had to ask.  “I'm popular?  What for?”

The general shrugged impatiently.  “You would have to speak with Professor Vejanib; it's none of my concern.  I was ordered by the Prime Minister himself to let you have access to this thing, and though it's against my better judgment I am going to follow those orders.  Be warned that if you try to bring any weapon out of that ship of any kind you will be killed immediately, enslaved or not.”

“The TARDIS doesn't have any weapons,” Jothan told the general quietly, “and even if it did, I wouldn't use them; I don't believe in them.  Would I be able to speak with the professor to thank her?”

“The guard will escort you to her office.”  The general gave a curt nod, then strode out of the room briskly.    

“Let's go,” the soldier told him.  

They walked over to the building where Professor Vejanib worked.  They checked in with the receptionist, and again were ushered into the Children's Room.  “You shouldn't have to wait long,” the man told them, “it's the end of the day.”

Within minutes, the professor came in.  “You can go,” she told the soldier.  “I'll bring him back to the main complex once we're done.”

Once they were alone, Jothan told her, “I can't thank you enough for saving our ship.  I am so grateful.  In fact, I . . . you can do whatever other tests you want to.  Just spread them out please, so I can spend time with the Doctor each day.  May I ask you a question?”

“Of course you may,” the woman told him.

“Why did you do it?  Why do you care so much about what happens to me?”

The professor was quiet a moment, then told him, “My ancestors were among those who were in power before the Time War.  They were the ones who agreed to help the Time Lords.  I've always wanted to . . . atone for that mistake somehow, and freeing you from the control of the Time Lord would allow me to do that.”

“But you didn't do it.  You didn't make the decision.  I don't understand . . .”

The woman sighed.  “Among our people, what our ancestors do doesn't just end with them . . . the whole family line after them is held responsible.  I have been able to rise above my family's disgrace due to my success as a psychologist, but if I were to accomplish this, it would erase the shame completely.  But that's not the only reason.  I believe strongly in the freedom of sentient life from any and every form of slavery.  I have worked hard on Rensica Four to free the lower class there from their bondage.  You are in a much worse slavery than anyone on Rensica Four—you are not just controlled in body, but mentally, sexually . . .”

“I'm not the Doctor's sex slave, if that's what you're thinking . . .” Jothan protested.

“I was there at that press conference, Jothan,” the woman responded, looking at him steadily.  “I heard what you said . . . and what you did not say.  You did not deny that you and the Time Lord had engaged in such relations—you just said that the question was unwelcome due to the private nature of the subject.”

“I . . . I made a mistake, that's all.”  Jothan couldn't meet the professor's eyes.

“Yet you still won't deny it, perhaps cannot deny it,” Professor Vejanib insisted.

Jothan hurried to change the subject.  “The general said that I'm popular.  Why is that?”

The woman smiled.  “For whatever reason, you have captured the attention of Rensica Prime.  The common people have found your plight compelling.  I've had to turn down many requests for private interviews with you.  I had a feeling you would want your privacy, and selling your story would be using you shamefully, subjecting you to another type of slavery.”

Jothan thought for a minute, then said slowly, “What if I agreed to do an interview or two with the Doctor, to show people he's not a monster?”

“Do you really think that would help your cause?” Professor Vejanib asked gently.  “Will a talk or two undo hundreds of years of history?”

Jothan sighed.  “Probably not,” he admitted.  He was silent a moment, then burst out, “Doesn't anyone care that the Doctor saved this planet?”

“It's true that he did save us,” the woman agreed.  “But that one act of mercy cannot erase the wounds the Time Lords inflicted on this planet through their war with the Daleks.  I should rent a shuttle and show you some of the Abandoned Lands, where no one will be able to live for hundreds of thousands of years, if ever.” 

The medic shook his head.  “One other question—how did you talk the Prime Minister into letting me have access to my ship?”

The woman seemed uncomfortable.  “I have a . . . special relationship with the Prime Minister, one I would rather not discuss.  I wanted you to be able to have free rein over your comings and goings as much as you could, especially to your home.  I hope you will not make me regret my decision.”

“I won't,” Jothan told her.  I am . . . most deeply in your debt.”

Professor Vejanib smiled.  “I am glad to be able to be of some service to you.  I'll walk you back to the compound.  I've been summoned off-planet for a few weeks, but I'll see you when I get back.”

Jothan and the professor walked back to the main complex.  She led him through the halls to the guard station across from the TARDIS.  As she was about to leave, Jothan suddenly had an idea.  “Professor, please wait . . .”

“Yes, Jothan?” the woman turned around.

“Is there any chance that you could take me off the base when you return?  Maybe back to the city?  I should try to understand things from the Rensicans' point of view . . .”

“I'll see what I can arrange,” the professor promised.  “Good night, Jothan."

Jothan watched her leave, then went to the guard station.  “Can I go to my ship now?” he asked.  It was early, but he had a lot to think about.

One of the guards nodded, and led him into the chamber where the TARDIS was.  Jothan noticed that the door to the room was unlocked.  He filed the information in his mind for later, then entered the TARDIS for the night.

Once there, he thought long and hard about getting to work on an escape plan.  He wasn't sure how much time he had left; the Doctor seemed to think it could be a long while, but Jothan didn't want to take a chance; he wanted the Time Lord free well before the trial.  He looked through the pockets of the Time Lord's leather jacket for something useful, but soon gave it up.  There was a lot of junk in those pockets, a lot of things he couldn't identify and some that should have been thrown away a long time ago.  He looked at the sonic screwdriver for a while, but eventually put it back; there was no way he would be able to sneak that out of the TARDIS without someone asking something.  Just then, he remembered his own sonic screwdriver.  The Doctor said the device could double as a ball-point pen.  If he could figure out how to make it work, he might have a chance.  He hurried to his room to get it, then started pressing buttons. 

************  

The next morning Jothan exited the TARDIS cautiously.  As he had expected, there was a guard on duty.  She snapped to attention as she caught sight of him.  “Close that door all the way, and then stand perfectly still,” the guard warned.

Jothan closed the door, then remained motionless as the guard did her search.  She found the sonic screwdriver, holding it up to the light.  “What is this?” she asked warily, holding it between thumb and index finger as though it would bite.

“It's a pen,” Jothan said, trying to sound casual.  “I can show you; I have some paper right here.”  He took out a few scraps of blank paper the Doctor had put in his jacket pocket.  “It's a bit tricky if you're not used to it,” he warned.

The guard grunted, but allowed Jothan to show her how to use it.  She was quickly satisfied, and gave it back.  Jothan breathed a great sigh of relief; it had passed inspection.  As long as he didn't flash it around too much he should be able to keep it.  He locked the TARDIS behind him and then went to the mess hall for food.  Today's offering looked like pancakes, though they weren't hot.  There was some sort of sweet fruit to put on them, as well as another bowl of the oatmeal stuff.  Again he finished quickly, then headed to the Doctor's cell for the day.

As he came in, he saw Doctor Zillinar sitting in the chair and having quite the conversation with the Doctor.  Jothan was surprised, but didn't interfere.  The Rensican was just saying, “A determination of sanity could make a huge difference in your trial.  If you would only cooperate . . .”

“We both know that whether I'm sane or not, I'm still going to be tried as a war criminal.”  The Time Lord sounded impatient, as though he had already said this several times.  “They're not likely to grant leniency, and I'd rather not have you poking your nose into my business if I can avoid it.  It's not my fault you don't believe what I've already told you.”

The Rensican shook his head.  “Some of what you've said corroborates with what Jothan has already told us.  Those things are easy to accept.  You ending the Time War by yourself—impossible.”

The Doctor stood to his feet.  “Why is that so hard to fathom?  One explosion to destabilize the black hole, one to push everything into the hole, and one more to seal it shut.  Not that difficult to perform, even for one TARDIS.  My plan, my responsibility.  Be glad it worked, even if you don't have the capacity to understand the mechanics behind it.”

“And you're proud of your accomplishment, are you, Doctor?  Giving yourself a nice pat on the back for your genius?” Doctor Zillinar pushed.

The Doctor wilted.  “Never proud of blood on my hands,” he mumbled.  “Just did what I had to do, that's all.  Don't know why I survived, but I did.  Not proud of that, either.”

Jothan decided to put an end to that particular conversation at once.  “I'm glad you survived,” he said forcefully moving toward the cell.  “Just think what things would be like if you hadn't done it, and all the good you've done throughout the universe since then.”

The Doctor didn't look up.  “Doesn't half—”

“That's enough!” Jothan hissed.  “These people would love nothing better than a confession from you, and if you keep talking like that, you'll hand them one.  You saved the universe, Doctor.  Never forget that.”

There was pain in the Doctor's eyes as he looked at Jothan, but he gave a curt nod and sat back down on his cot, while Doctor Zillinar looked almost furious at Jothan's interruption.  “Anything else you want?” the medic asked the Rensican coldly.

The Rensican stood to his feet with an angry grunt.  “I wish you would be a little more accommodating, Doctor.  Pride will get you nowhere if you're found guilty.  Jothan, someday you will have to face the knowledge that your Time Lord friend is less innocent than you might believe.  I just hope it's sooner rather than later.  Good day.”  The man turned on his heel and left swiftly.

Jothan breathed a sigh of relief.  “That was very close,” he shuddered.  “You can't let your guilt do your talking, Doctor, no matter how much you may feel responsible.  If they get you to say you're guilty of anything involving your role in the Time War, no trial in the universe will help you.  Now, to business.  Is there anything you want from the TARDIS that I might be able to get you?  Here, I have some paper; I'll write down a list.”

The Doctor looked at Jothan with confusion, knowing that Jothan barely knew how to write in longhand.  Then he noticed the sonic screwdriver and nodded appreciatively.  “See if you can get me a clean jumper; I've had this one for quite long enough.  Clean socks and underwear would be welcome, too.  Anything else they're not likely to give me.  Got all that?”

Jothan made a scrawl or two on the paper.  “Got it,” he responded.  “I'll have to wait until tomorrow, but I'll get you what I can.”  He sat down on the chair, putting the screwdriver back in his pocket with the paper scraps.  He picked up the book and said cheerfully, “Let's see where we left off yesterday . . .”

Around the middle of the afternoon, an alarm began to sound.  In no time the six guards from the second checkpoint came dashing into the cell.  They had helmets with face shields on, as well as some sort of chest protectors.  One stood by the door controls with a weapon raised, and another took up a position directly in front of the door, also with a raised weapon.  Two more soldiers stood in front of the cell itself, and two stationed themselves on either side of Jothan's chair.

“What's happening?!” Jothan cried out.  “We didn't do—”

“Someone has gained unauthorized access to the base using a fake badge,” one of the soldiers replied grimly.  “We think it might be an assassination attempt.  If anyone comes through that door before the all-clear sounds, drop to the floor and stay there.” 

Jothan put the book down next to the chair and sat still while the guards kept watch.  It was five minutes before a chiming bell sounded three times.  “That's the all-clear,” one of the soldiers stated calmly.  “Must have found whoever it was.  Back to your posts, everyone.  Good, swift turn-out, just as it should be.”  He continued praising the other soldiers as they left the room.

Jothan picked up the book again.  “That was useful,” he commented.  “Now we know what they'll do if someone tries anything dodgy.  By Zeus, they were fast.”

“Something to keep in mind,” the Doctor agreed.  

************   

It took well over an hour the next day to get the Doctor his clean clothing, and even longer to be allowed to take the other things back to get them washed.  Jothan had brought a bag for them, and it got searched repeatedly throughout the day.  “As if I could have got something else from you since they searched it last,” Jothan complained once the guards had left after the fifth search.

“It keeps them busy,” the Doctor grumped.  “Must be very boring waiting for us to try and escape, after all.”

“They'll be waiting quite a while then,” Jothan sighed glumly.  He had absolutely no idea how he was going to get the Time Lord back to the TARDIS.  He was pretty sure his sonic screwdriver would allow him to turn off the laser grid holding the Doctor in the cell, but it was the steps after that point that were causing him headaches.  The swift response of the guards the day before had not been reassuring, either.  “I'm going to go get some lunch,” Jothan said, stretching.  “Now that I have access to the mess hall, they don't bring me a tray anymore.  You'll be all right?”

The Doctor sat up a little straighter.  “Of course I will!” he scoffed.  “What else could possibly happen?”

“You have a point,” the medic agreed.  “See you later.”

As Jothan was heading over to the mess hall, he decided to see if he could sneak in a quick trip to the TARDIS—he was hoping to talk the guards into it.  As he went to the guard station, he saw several soldiers carrying a bulky tray of round globes.  He went to move out of their way just as another soldier came hurrying from the other direction.  There was momentary confusion, then they all ran into each other awkwardly.  One of the globes came free from the tray and hit the ground, shattering into pieces.  A smelly, purple gas started boiling up from the place where the sphere had fallen.  The guards carrying the globes folded first, dropping to the ground.  Then the guard that had caused the accident fell, and seconds later the soldiers at the guard post went down.

Jothan stood still for a few seconds, not sure what to do.  Then his medic nature took over; he didn't want these people killed.  He went over to the guard post and quickly pressed the biggest button he could find.  He had chosen correctly; a siren went off at once.  It didn't take long before a guard came running.  He stopped short, then ran back the way he had come, calling to those behind him.  

Jothan was doing a quick assessment on each of the guards.  They were still alive, but were unconscious.  Clouds of gas were still billowing up from the broken sphere.  Jothan looked around to see if he could stop it somehow, but decided to focus on getting the guards in the clear first.  He pulled on the one who was nearest, and tugged until he got him out of the cloud of purple gas.  He kept pulling until the Rensican was around the corner, then went back for another downed soldier.

By the time he had gotten the second soldier out of the cloud, more guards were coming, all wearing gas masks.  Jothan helped to get each fallen guard to safety, then watched as other guards tried neutralizing the gas with dry chemicals.  Two soldiers took the tray of unbroken globes and hurried them away.  It was a long time before General Fetinsee came to survey the scene.  By that time, Jothan had been noticed again, and was flanked by two masked soldiers.  The general pointed to Jothan, then pointed down the hall, and he was escorted away from the disorder.

They traveled down two hallways and a flight of stairs before the general took off his mask.  He looked at Jothan with a strange expression on his face.  “You . . . you must have set off the alarm.”

“I did,” Jothan agreed.  “Hit the biggest, brightest button I could.  I didn't want them to die.”

The general was still staring at him.  “They wouldn't have died, though they will be unconscious for several hours.  The gas doesn't seem to have affected you at all.”

Jothan wiped at his eyes, which stung a little.  “Not really,” he replied.  “You're sure they'll be all right?  What was that stuff?”

“The gas is called Zandixardin Twelve, and it's used in special circumstances to quell mobs without injuries,” General Fetinsee explained.  “We've laid in a supply due to the crowd at the gate; may even have to use some before it's over.”  He stood still for a moment, then said flatly, “You didn't have to help my men.  You could have taken advantage of the situation, grabbed a weapon or two, but you didn't.”

Jothan looked the general straight in the eyes.  “I meant what I said; I didn't want them to die.”

“The gas only kills in extremely high concentrations; they will recover in time.”  The general seemed uncomfortable, then said in a different voice, “I will assign you a guard so you can have free access to your ship whenever you wish.  I'll arrange for you to have admittance to the recreation center, and I'll inform the Prime Minister as well.”

Jothan looked down at his shoes, a little embarrassed.  “Anyone else would have—” 

The general cut him off.  “Anyone else would have been killing my guards by now to break their friend out of his cell.  You didn't, and I won't forget.”  He pointed to one of the guards, still in his mask.  “Nendee, escort the ali—Jothan to his ship.  Search him properly when he comes out again, and consider him your personal assignment.  He's to have access to all open crew areas, as well as the prisoner.  When you go off-duty for the night, come see me in my office.”

The guard nodded, then turned to Jothan.  “Come . . . Jothan.  We'll get you to your ship.”

Jothan followed the guard back up the stairs.  “I was just going to drop these things off, then go to lunch.  Is it too late for that now?” 

“Meals are served at all hours, except late at night; we have many different work shifts going at once.”  The guard led him quickly back the way they had come.  They came to the room where the TARDIS was, and the guard station.  The mess had been cleaned up, and there was a new shift of soldiers already at their tasks.  

Jothan hurriedly threw the Doctor's dirty clothes in the laundry; they would be done by the time he came back.  He was carefully searched by the guard when he came back out, and they went to the mess hall.  “What is your name again?” Jothan asked shyly.

“I am Nendee,” the guard told him somberly.  “We may end up spending a lot of time together if you're truly going to be my assignment while you're here.”

Jothan decided to get to know Nendee better; he might be able to give him some useful information.  “Have you been a soldier long?”

“I have been a soldier for nine years.  Everyone serves a mandatory two years, but I decided to remain on after my compulsory service ended.”  The Rensican looked at him curiously, then asked, “How can you see anything with eyes that green?”

Jothan laughed a little.  “I can see just fine, actually, though it probably seems odd to you, like I have skin over my eyes.  I was kinda curious about your blue hair—it almost glows, it's so bright.”

Nendee smiled a little.  “I see we will have a great deal to learn about each other.”

They came to the mess hall and Jothan got food while Nendee got a drink.  They sat down at an empty table, and Jothan tried hard to ignore all the interested glances.  “I wish they wouldn't stare,” he muttered.

“Everyone here is curious about you, and they will be more so when news of this incident gets out,” Nendee told him, matter-of-fact.  “We don't see many aliens on Rensica Prime, and certainly not one in your situation.  You attract a lot of interest, both here on the base and in the public eye.”

“I'm just a person, like anyone else,” Jothan protested weakly, but soon focused on his food.  “Do you happen to know what I'm eating here?”

“They are serving roast starrg this afternoon, with root vegetables,” Nendee told him.  “Tonight will be boiled kaquin in a light tarl sauce, and dralmidon as a side dish.  We eat pretty well here, though the fare is plain.”

“What is your usual assignment here?” Jothan wanted to know.

“I serve in many different stations, as I have more experience than many here.  Most soldiers do not stay on after their compulsory time is completed,” Nendee explained.  “Lately I have been assisting with crowd control at the gate; there are a lot of angry Rensicans out there.  Many believe that the trial for the Time Lord is being stalled on purpose, perhaps with the Time Lord trying to offer advanced technology in exchange for his freedom.  Others are saying that you're now a hostage of the government and that we're torturing you to try and get the Time Lord to agree to sentencing without a trial.  It's been very hard to quell all the rumors and misinformation; I'm sure the Prime Minister has his hands full, as do we.” 

“Has anyone been hurt?” Jothan asked, uncomfortable.  He didn't like thinking of all the violence that might be going on outside the gates.

Nendee shrugged.  “There was a problem yesterday when a reporter gained access to the base with phony credentials and a disguise, but we found him before he got too far.” 

Jothan still felt unsettled.  “I hope this all ends soon, for everyone's sake.”

“It won't end until the Time Lord is tried,” Nendee said pragmatically.  

Jothan finished his meal sadly.  “Can we head back over to the brig?”

************  

The next five weeks had an established pattern to them.  Jothan left the TARDIS in the morning, and was searched by Nendee.  They went to the brig, and Jothan stayed with the Doctor until lunch.  He wasn't sure where Nendee was during those hours, but he was always there when Jothan left.  After lunch the medic spent an hour or so in the pool or the gym, then headed back over to the brig until he was kicked out for the night.  He ate, was escorted back to the TARDIS, and another day ended.

One day, Jothan came out of the TARDIS to find that the room, which had been empty, was now filled with an assortment of office furniture.  Here and there were piled ratty-looking desks, battered chairs, and damaged filing cabinets.  “Redecorating?” he asked Nendee.

“We've temporarily run out of room in the regular storage bays and decided to use the space,” the soldier told him.  “You can still get in and out all right, so it shouldn't matter.”

Jothan squeezed past a filing cabinet into some clear space after locking the TARDIS, ready for the daily search.  He noticed that the searches were getting shorter and shorter, unless he brought something out of the TARDIS that was bigger than a paperback book.  Because of this, the medic tried to avoid bringing anything out that was larger—he wanted the soldiers to be as lax about their searches as possible.  It might come in handy some day.  He also had taken to wearing his denim jacket—the one that had specially hidden Time Lord pockets that were bigger inside than outside.  He'd asked for them several months ago, and the Doctor had obliged in a short amount of time.  The medic wanted every advantage he could get, and it was easy to put extra things in his pockets with the jacket on.  So far he hadn't put anything more dangerous than a spoon in those pockets, but he hoped . . .

He went to the brig and spent the morning reading to the Doctor, who seemed listless and out of sorts.  Jothan was worried; though the Doctor had been promised a trip out of his cell several times it had not materialized, and the stress of the long confinement was beginning to show.  He wondered who he could speak to about the delay, and decided that Nendee would be the first place to start.  While they were walking to lunch, the medic said carefully, “Perhaps you could help me with something, Nendee.  The 'powers that be' have promised several times that the Doctor could be let out of his cell for a short time, but so far it hasn't happened.  I'm sure it's just an oversight . . .” 

“It is no oversight,” Nendee told him.  “We do not have the manpower given the situation outside the gates.  The crowd grows daily; soon we shall get extra support from New Spartane.  Also, we can't risk taking the Time Lord anywhere until some of the furor dies down; it would be unthinkable for him to be killed before his trial.”

“Do you think he should be killed?” Jothan asked quietly.

Nendee shook his head.  “We Rensicans are not murderers.  Even the Time Lord shouldn't die without a trial, no matter how horrible his offenses.  There are a few outlaws trying to pervert justice in this case out of fear or ignorance, but they will not succeed.  As for his guilt . . . well, that is for the tribunal to decide, not me.”

“If it's only a few people trying to get the Doctor killed, why are you having trouble with mobs?” Jothan asked sensibly.

“Those few seditionists have been very vocal and playing on the fear of the average Rensican, drawing people to their cause,” Nendee explained.  “Most of those people outside the gate would never put fuel behind their chantings if they had the opportunity.  However, there are a handful who would love nothing better than to kill the Time Lord themselves.  But here we are at lunch.  Broiled thespire today, with a side of lantro.” 

On returning to the TARDIS that night, Nendee told him, “You will not see me for a few days; I am going on leave to see my family.”

Jothan tried to sound cheerful, but inside he was concerned.  “They're letting you leave during this crisis?  That's a surprise.”

Nendee smiled.  “I rarely ask for leave, and I had it scheduled long before this situation occurred.  Besides, our reinforcements come in from New Spartane tomorrow; we will have more than enough manpower.  Perhaps your Time Lord friend will even get a chance out of his cell for a few hours.”
“I certainly hope so; he's been cooped up for so long,” Jothan worried.  “I'll see you when you return, Nendee.  Enjoy your time with your family.”

“I intend to.  Be well, Jothan.”  Nendee smiled.

Jothan went aboard the TARDIS and shut the door behind him.  He wondered if now would be the time to act, what with soldiers coming who did not know the routine.  He would have to see what he could get away with, he told himself, but be cautious in case the new additions were scrupulous about following orders.  He sighed, then went to bed.  He would find out more in the morning.

************  

Jothan emptied his pockets of everything but his sonic screwdriver and some paper scraps before he left the TARDIS.  He didn't want to cause trouble with a new guard who might be more thorough with a search than Nendee was.  He opened the door, and looked out in surprise.  No one was waiting for him.  He thought about what that might mean, then opened the door of the room carefully.  

As soon as the door was open a crack, he heard a voice say irritably, “Come out of there, close the door behind you, and stand with your back against the door.  Keep your hands where I can see them.”

Jothan complied with the orders.  He could see that something was definitely different today; there weren't enough soldiers at this particular checkpoint.  There should have been four, but there was only one on duty.  The guard brusquely patted him down, and waved him on, not even checking his pockets.  Jothan wanted to know what was going on, but wasn't sure if the guard would tell him; he certainly wasn't acting friendly.  The medic decided to chance it.  “How come you're all alone today?” he asked as nicely as he could.

“The crowds outside have grown again, and we had some fence-jumpers during the night,” the soldier answered sourly.  “To make matters worse, the extra soldiers from New Spartane won't be arriving for another five days.  We've had to put more people on patrol outside, leaving a skeleton crew on the base proper.  Now run along; I have more important things to do than baby-sit a harmless alien.”  The guard stamped back to his station.  “You're to go straight to the brig and not get in any trouble.”

Jothan went to the brig.  On his way there, he saw soldiers carrying more of the globes containing the Zandixardin Twelve gas.  This time, the spheres were being transported by two small female guards, who were having a hard time keeping the heavy tray level between them.  “Can I help?” Jothan asked.

The two soldiers seemed grateful for the assistance.  Jothan took one end of the tray, while the two Rensicans took the other.  The women directed him on where to go, and the globes were stored securely in a closet with other weapons.  Jothan made sure he was the last to leave, and as he exited the room he carelessly left the door open a crack.  The soldiers thanked him for his help and went on their way.  As soon as they were out of sight, Jothan slid back into the storage area.  He looked at all the items in the room; some were obviously guns, while others were unidentifiable.  He wasted no time putting three of the globes of Zandixardin Twelve in his jacket pockets.  He peeked out to make sure no one was coming, then snuck out of the room, closing the door solidly behind him.

He went directly to the brig after that.  Here too, there were not the usual number of guards on station.  The first checkpoint had four guards instead of the normal six, and the second checkpoint boasted only two soldiers, who looked nervous.  They were guards Jothan knew well, so he greeted them politely and went in to where the Doctor was.

As soon as he entered the room, he hurried over to the cell and stuck his arm in carefully, waiting for the Time Lord to take his hand.  It took the Doctor a long time to respond; he was sitting on his cot brooding, his back to the door.  At last he noticed the medic waiting and got up.  He took Jothan's hand and said glumly, “Another day.”

“Yes, it is,” Jothan agreed.  He then started communicating telepathically.  I have a plan.  There's only a skeleton crew of guards on the base right now; everyone else is guarding the outside.  When I get a good moment, I'm going to break you out of this cell, and get you back to the TARDIS.

The Doctor sighed.  “Whatever you think is best, Jothan,” he murmured listlessly.

Jothan looked at him sharply, and gave the Doctor's arm a brisk squeeze.  Snap out of it! he ordered.  This could happen at a moment's notice, and I need you to be ready for me when it does.  “I think you're depressed,” he said out loud to the Time Lord.

The Doctor pulled away and trudged back over to the cot, sitting down heavily.  “Time Lords aren't used to this kind of confinement.  We don't do well when imprisoned for long stretches of time.”

“I can see that for myself,” Jothan remarked.  “You remember to be ready for anything; you never know what's going to happen.”

The medic saw the Doctor straighten up a bit.  “I'll try,” the Time Lord promised.

“That's better,” Jothan encouraged.  “Now, let's get back to our book.”

There was an alarm late in the morning; apparently another Rensican had jumped the fence into the installation.  The guards were quick to enter the cell, with one by the cell controls and the other in front of the cell itself.  “Get down, Jothan,” one of the soldiers told him.  “You don't want to be in the line of fire.”

Jothan put down the book and laid down on the floor, careful not to break any of the precious globes he had hidden in his jacket.  It seemed to take a long time before the all-clear sounded, and the guards were able to relax.  He heard one say to the other grumpily, “Wish this would be over.  We can't be on high alert all the time . . .”

Jothan got back up and sat in the chair again.  “I never did tell you the story of what happened the other day,” he said casually.  “Have you ever heard of Zandixardin Twelve?”

“Yes,” the Doctor responded.  “Used for crowd control on some planets.  Causes unconsciousness to those races it affects.  They might even use it here.”

“Well,” Jothan told him, “someone broke a globe of the stuff accidentally the other day.  Knocked them all out.  Didn't affect me, so I raised the alarm.  Don't suppose it affects you at all, does it?”  Jothan looked piercingly at the Time Lord, hoping with all his might for the right answer.

“Nope,” the Doctor replied.  “It might give me a headache in a large enough concentration, but I won't have any effects from the amount they probably use.”

“Well, that means you would have done the same thing I did, and pulled the guards out of the gas,” Jothan said happily.  “That's how come I get to go to the gym and the pool and everything.  It's almost lunchtime; I'll pop back to the TARDIS, then see you later.”

“You be careful, Jothan,” the Doctor warned.  “Wouldn't want you hurt.”

Jothan went back to the room the TARDIS was in.  He was going to go right in, but stopped short.  He couldn't risk taking the globes into the TARDIS; he might need them at a moment's notice.  Instead, he put them in the bottom drawer of one of the filing cabinets.  He quickly left the room, and the guard on duty didn't even look up from his work.  Jothan smiled to himself, then headed over to the mess hall.  He ate, then sat for a bit trying to decide what to do next.  All of the guards were tense and distracted to the point where they were paying almost no attention to him.  Was now the best time to make his move, he wondered?  In theory, it was simple.  The brig was a separate area from the rest of the complex, and relatively isolated.  If he incapacitated the guards in the brig area, he could easily get the Doctor out of his cell, and with the Time Lord was dressed in the guards' riot gear, he would not attract attention on the way out.  Then they would just need to get to the TARDIS itself.

As he was walking back to the room where the TARDIS was, he heard an alarm go off.  He took a few more steps when he heard another, different alarm sound, followed closely by a third.  Guards started running here and there, some of them looking panicked.  He managed to stop one of them.  “What's going on?” he asked urgently.

“A contingent of angry Rensicans has broken through the fence not for from here, while the largest group got in at the Main Gate.  Get yourself to the brig; it's the safest place for you!” the soldier shouted.

At once, Jothan ran for the room where the TARDIS was.  This would be his chance; the soldiers would never be so distracted again, he was sure.  He grabbed the three globes he had and made a mad dash for the brig.

Other than the sirens, the area was deathly quiet.  As he rushed in, he was met by the four guards at the first checkpoint.  “Get out of the way!” one snapped.  “Do you want to be shot?”

“I was told to come to the brig,” the medic panted.

One guard hurried over to release the door mechanism to the next checkpoint.  As soon as he did, Jothan threw a globe at the further guards, and used his mental powers to knock out the soldier by the controls.  He went inside, then cautiously approached the door to the room where the Doctor was being held.  He knew he would have to be quick.  Suddenly, he had an idea.  He started pounding on the door, crying out, “Let me in, please!  They're all over the base, and they'll kill me!  Let me in!”

To his amazement, it actually worked; the door opened, and he was pulled inside roughly.  “What were you thinking?” he was told.  “You should have gone back to your ship; you would have been safe enough there.”

Jothan stood in between the guards, right at the wall of lasers.  He held out his hand to the Doctor, and once he had contact used telepathy.  Be ready.

The medic eased a globe out of his pocket.  The guards were too busy watching the door to notice.  He threw it, and watched the cloud of gas foam up.  As soon as the soldiers were down, Jothan went over to the laser grid controls with the sonic screwdriver.  He pointed the tool at the controls and pressed the button.  Nothing happened.  He tried again, this time getting some response, but the control panel wouldn't turn off.  Frustrated, he tried another setting.

The Doctor was pacing swiftly.  “Quit mucking about!” he snarled.  “It's setting seventeen, you idiot!”

“It's not like I got to practice this part, stupid!” Jothan yelled back.  Finally, the control panel blew, and the laser grid sputtered out.  “Get the helmet and the other stuff on, and hurry.  The Rensicans outside are on their way in, so everyone should be busy worrying about them, and not about us.”

It took a few minutes for the Doctor to get the uniform and helmet on, then another two for the chest protector.  By then Jothan was almost dancing with impatience.  “Come on!” he pleaded.

As soon as they were ready, the Doctor pulled the visor down, and they went out to the second checkpoint.  It was deserted.  At the first checkpoint, gas was still billowing out of the broken globe.  They made it out into the hallway, and looked around.  No one was in sight.  “This way,” Jothan indicated.  “Who knows how long we have before those men are found.”

They hurried through the halls to the TARDIS.  When they were more than halfway there, General Fetinsee came down the passage with a contingent of soldiers.  “You there!” he called.  “Where do you think you're going?”

“Escorting the alien to his ship, where he can be protected,” the Doctor answered quickly.  “The brig's all locked down.”

“Get him there then get back to the brig,” the general ordered.  “Even if it's locked down you can still make a stand outside the door until the all-clear sounds.”  He and the soldiers hurried away.

“Get a move on,” the Doctor whispered once they were gone.  “They'll discover the empty cell any minute now.”

They made it to the guard post outside the room where the TARDIS was, just to find a crowd of soldiers outside, milling around and pretty well blocking the door.  “Can't let you through right now; we're using this as a staging area,” someone said.  “You'll have to wait.”

“Not likely,” Jothan muttered, taking out his last globe and throwing it on the floor.  In moments the Rensicans were down.  The Doctor and Jothan slipped into the room and made it to the TARDIS just as a new alarm sounded.  “Jothan—the key!” the Time Lord panted.

Jothan stepped up to the TARDIS lock with shaking hands, but got the door open on the first try.  They dashed in, and Jothan slammed the door shut, putting the key back around his neck.  “Get us out of here!” he urged.

“Don't have to tell me twice,” the Time Lord responded, already punching in the dematerialization sequence.

As soon as they were in the Vortex, the Time Lord had hurried off to “take a proper shower,” as he told Jothan.  The medic had watched him go, glad that the Doctor was looking better already.  He waited, and in time the Time Lord came back into the Console Room, his clothes changed and his hair wet.  “Now I feel more like a sentient being,” the Time Lord observed, stretching.

“I'm just glad we got out of there,” Jothan sighed contentedly.  “Wonder what will happen once they find out you're gone?”    

“No idea.  Probably they'll fake my death somehow, rather than admit they lost me.  I don't intend on ever finding out, myself.”

“Good,” Jothan announced.  “Now you owe me big, so you can start by—”

“Owe you?”  The Time Lord sounded insulted.  “If anyone's owed, it's me.  Who got to be cooped up for weeks in a cell smaller than the kitchen?  Who had to shower behind clear glass and didn't get clean clothes for ever so long . . .”

“It was supposed to be my birthday, you might remember . . .” the medic protested.

“That reminds me,” the Doctor said, jumping up.  “You need lessons on that sonic screwdriver, if you're to use it properly.  I thought for a moment I wasn't going to get out at all . . .”

“I got it to work,” Jothan reminded the Time Lord irritably, then sighed.  “Still, I would like lessons.  I want to be able to take full advantage of all I have next time I have to get you out of trouble.”

The Doctor spoke softly.  “Thank you.  You got me out before they were able to do me in.  You were fantastic . . . thank you.”

Jothan came over and gave the Time Lord a big hug.  “I'm sorry,” he whispered.  “Sorry it took so long, sorry I sold you out . . . sorry I made you go there at all.”

The Doctor gave Jothan a sweet, lingering kiss.  “You were fantastic, Love.  You did just fine.  And,” he said briskly, pulling away, “I do still owe you a trip to Yamexibon for your birthday.”

“I don't care where we go,” Jothan sighed happily, “now that we're together again.”

 

************  Story to Follow:  Doing Domestic  ************