Doctor Who: The Time Splicer: The Penitentiary (The Time Splicer Series Book 3)

by Cour M.

  “But your designer used the software?”

  “He felt that our system schematics could withstand the feedback, and he was successful. I have been informed that the original designer of the Tesserecta took our success as a confirmation that his design could work. I do not know if the Tesserecta is in operation, however.”

  “Well, it works here, and that’s all that matters,” Martha declared, “And all you Howards can do it?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “Best news of the day,” she sighed, “Howard, I have a plan to save the Doctors, and I need all of you to help. I promise we will do our best to keep you all safe. But right now, there is an impending war that we can prevent, many lives we can save, if you will assist us. The other Howards will listen to you, so please, will you help us?”

  Howard 6 looked around the robotics shop.

  “You will save me from this?”

  “Yes, the Doctor will.”

  Howard 6 looked at them stoically.

  “What is the plan?”

  ⌨

  “And you need my help?” Daphne magnified as she was sitting down at a table in a pub. When she had been on the picket line once more along with another large group of protestors outside the Halls of Justice, Martha and Satsuki found her. They asked for a private word after the protest and Daphne agreed. Now they were sitting in the pub and they had just told her of their plan.

  “Yes, we do,” Satsuki explained, “if you and the other protestors help us in this, then it would be strength in numbers. It also would be beneficial for you.”

  “It sounds dangerous, and I don’t want to risk the lives of all the people in the protest.”

  “We promise, with you all there, we’ll surveil you and make sure that all the planets know what you are doing. With all the worlds watching, and with your strength in numbers, you will be perfectly safe.”

  “I want to do it,” Daphne admitted, “but I’m not certain that all the others will join me.”

  “They will once you tell them the truth.”

  “What truth are you talking about? The last time that I checked, everyone had their own definition of that word.”

  “The truth that perhaps some of the men who were taken are still alive.”

  In hearing this, Daphne perked up.

  “You don’t know that,” she refuted.

  “Not for a fact, we don’t. Yet there is the chance, the fleeting chance, that they are alive. Daphne, when I first saw you, you were carrying a sign that said ‘Remember Miccas’. Who is that?”

  Daphne sniffed the air, defensively, avoiding looking at them both.

  “He was my boyfriend. He disappeared when we came to watch the games. He surprised me with tickets. Don’t worry, I’ve luckily reached the point where I stopped crying about it in public.”

  “He must’ve meant a great deal to you.”

  “Do you know what it’s like to have never gotten the chance to tell someone that you loved them, because you were a coward about it?”

  Martha and Satsuki exchanged a quick look of awkwardness.

  “Yes, I admit that I have,” Martha answered.

  “Of course, you have,” Daphne snapped, “we all have. It’s a universal flaw. It’s not an easy thing to say, but we all want to say it nonetheless. Well, I didn’t say it to him, but I wanted to. If we had never come to these worthless games, then he would still be here. You must understand; we were raised to believe that this was all perfectly normal and acceptable. And if he died, which I have resigned myself to, then I never told him. Yet here you are, now telling me that he might be alive. I don’t know whether to be happy, because you are giving me hope. Or to be angry for when that hope proves worthless.”

  “You said that you were upset with yourself for not telling him that you loved him,” Martha stressed, “and now you feel like a coward. Well, if you run and hide when he needs you, then you really will be one.”

  Daphne scratched her chin and she looked back at them both.

  “I don’t know how many of the protestors I can convince to join me, but how many do you need?”

  “At least a hundred.”

  “So, I must convince over a hundred protestors to join me across the universe, to save two aliens.”

  “They’re not just any aliens,” Satsuki stressed, “they are the Doctor, and they will bring back the victims. If we just save them.”

  “Right, so you’ve got a plan.”

  “We do.”

  “Then now I must fulfill my side of it, I suppose. Give me three days.”

  “Good luck.”

  Chapter 3

  Eastern State Penitentiary

  The Doctors, in shackles, arrived at the Eastern State Penitentiary Prison, that was stationed on Jupiter in the Janis system. As the plane landed, in an area covered by a large dome and artificial ground, a squad of Mecrellan Guards surrounded them as they were led into the prison.

  “The Eastern State Penitentiary upon Jupiter 3,” Ten announced, “or 4, or 5, or 6. Whatever number that this Jupiter is.”

  “Despite the occasion of our sad predicament, I must admit that it has a nice classical feel to it,” Eight continued.

  “Yes, it is quite lovely. When we escape, we really must come here again.”

  “No one escapes from here,” one of the guards announced.

  “First time for everything,” Eight put in, “or last time. I cannot wait to see our rooms!”

  “Such proud and cheery demeanors in the face of tragedy,” came a voice from before them. A strong-looking man appeared and was there to bar their way. “Your M.O. is fully accurate in regards to your personalities, Doctors.”

  “Let me guess,” Ten smiled, “the description said nothing but bad things.”

  “The very worst. You were listed as changeable, from your exterior to your interior, your charm was flimsy at best, your word is worthless, and you are filled with deceit—and psychic paper.”

  “You didn’t mention our lovely dress sense,” Eight pointed out. The captain looked them over in disdain.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Do we look like we’re joking, my dear chap?”

  “Well, we do look it sometimes,” Ten whispered.

  “Now’s not the time to contradict the things that I say,” Eight whispered in reply.

  “Fair point. So, who do we have the pleasure of being greeted by? Are you the head warden?”

  “Indeed, I am. I am Captain Gilmore, head of the Eastern prison guards, and welcome to Eastern State Penitentiary.”

  “I’m sure that we shall love our visit,” Ten smiled.

  “Optimism,” Captain Gilmore pointed out, “That’s how it often begins with the ones who are guilty, but still wish to believe that they are innocent somehow.” Captain Gilmore turned to the guards. “Bring them in.”

  They all followed Captain Gilmore into the prison and he led them to his office. Once there, Captain Gilmore sat down and propped his feet on his desk while the Doctors remained there in chains.

  “Still optimistic?” Captain Gilmore asked.

  “And still with nice dress sense,” Eight added.

  “That will change soon, for you shall exchange them for a more suitable attire.”

  “As long as I got you to admit that you liked our dress sense to begin with.”

  “Humor,” Captain Gilmore pointed out. “That’s also how many of you all begin when you come here. From pride to humor, then from humor to denial, then from denial to acceptance, from acceptance to sorrow, and do you want to know the last part?”

  Captain Gilmore flipped a switch on his desk, and two beams of light erupted from the ceiling and beamed down on the Doctors. As it did, torture shock waves traveled through the light and began to reign down on the Doctors. They both cried out in absolute pain, crumbling under the torture. Their legs buckled and they shrunk to the ground, their whole bodies in torment as blood began to trickle from down their noses and out of the sides of
their eyes. After their cries went on for thirty seconds, Captain Gilmore flipped the switch again, turning it off.

  Both Doctors were on the ground, their strength spent.

  “Are you okay?” Ten asked Eight.

  “Never better,” Eight replied, gasping for air.

  “Good. Don’t faint on me.”

  “You still have not answered the question,” Captain Gilmore taunted, “What is the final destination of every person who steps into this Penitentiary? Giving up. The answer is that you all give up. And there is an end to all hope. In fact, it almost seems as if you don’t even know how to spell the word eventually. But just in case you both decide that you shall still believe that miracles do occur, I promise that every now and again, we do something special. You are brought right back in here and we perform this all over again, just to mark the anniversary of each new state of depression that you shall fall in.”

  “Any chance you’ll let us keep our coats?”

  Captain Gilmore’s lips smirked slightly, for even he could not deny that he admired cheekiness every now and again.

  “Still in the stage of humor. I do so adore that stage, because it gives me every excuse to welcome you to the Penitentiary in a very marked way. Since you are all new to the prison, you get the special treatment. Not just one time in our torture beams, but two. Or three.”

  Captain Gilmore flipped the switch once more and both Doctors were left to be tortured in the beam of light. Yet Captain Gilmore was the kind of man who loved it when things lasted. Therefore, rather than flicking it back off after a minute, he watched as the Doctors shrunk down to the ground again, they writhed in pain until it was so terrible that they passed out, stricken with horror.

  ⌨

  They were so weak from the torture that they had to be carried out of his office, unclothed and put into their prison uniforms. They were flung into separate cells on two different sides of the prison, but as Ten was sprawled out on the ground of his cell as the door was being closed behind them, he rolled over and looked to see where Eight was being taken.

  “Where are you taking my younger self?” Ten gasped.

  “Far away from you, to the other side of the prison,” the guard elaborated, “we had the funny feeling that you are weaker that way. Now what are the chances that we are correct?”

  The guards closed the door on Ten, and the door was solid wood, so he couldn’t see out of it. Ten coughed, saw the bed next to the wall, crawled over to it, and he passed out from exhaustion and pain.

  As his eyes closed, he wondered about Martha and Satsuki. They were quite alone, and without a plan. Not to mention that the Clockwork droids were out there still, and were a threat to their companions. As long as they remained in the TARDIS, however, they would be safe. Yet Martha never would do that. Whatever plan it was, she was coming for him.

  And that was the last thing that he wanted.

  And the first thing that he wanted as well.

  ⌨

  Ten woke up, due to having a thought. His body was still too weak to move, but his brain was fully active. The thought that came to him was not his, however, but his younger self.

  Ha! He thought to himself. The guards were so bloody thick! Yes, they separated both incarnations of himself physically, but they still shared the same brain, and right now Eight was doing his best to remember everything around him, so that in few seconds, Ten would remember it. Also, Eight began to give instructions in his mind, so that Ten would receive it.

  ‘I am in the east wing,’ Eight’s thoughts voiced, ‘in cell 314. I am too weak to move, therefore you must be as well.’ An image of Eight’s cell came fresh into Ten’s mind as he saw Eight’s surroundings. ‘I know that you cannot deliver any of your thoughts back to me, because you come later in my timeline. However, I tell you now, don’t try to escape in any way. Martha and Satsuki are coming. Therefore, we have only one mission, and you know what it is.’

  The thoughts eventually came to an end, and Ten closed his eyes while a small slip door opened to his room and then a plate of food was shoved into it. Ten crawled off his bed, stumbled to the plate, picked it up and began to eat. The food was so terrible that he at first spit it out. In anger, he shoved the plate across the room, it slammed against the wall and was all over the corner of the floor.

  “Why oh why did I do that?” Ten asked the air. He rubbed his temples and leaned against the wall.

  Eight was right, they had only one mission. And they were going to get into the worst sort of trouble to discover it.

  ⌨

  Soon, Ten was brought a bucket, in case he ever needed to use the restroom, and he thanked the stars that he had went before they arrived there. All that was left therefore, was to fall asleep. When he woke up the next day, the guard entered with a stun gun aimed at him.

  “Walk,” he demanded.

  “What? No breakfast first?”

  “Breakfast is one of the only few times that you can commune with the rest of the prisoners. You shall proceed to the mess hall, right quick.”

  “Order and obey,” Ten agreed, and he stood up and followed the guard. “So, how did you get into this position? Did you kiss the President’s daughter or something?” The guard did not respond, but Ten felt it more fun just to fill in the silence. “Because, I’ll tell you, working in a place like this. It seems like its own prison sentence, if you ask me. I know you get paid, and all. So, what is it? One drachma a month? And then you get to be around a lot of grimy prisoners. Yeah, you must’ve kissed the wrong man’s daughter—or son.”

  The guard looked at him queerly, and Ten chuckled.

  “Oh, so that’s what it was. Plot thickens.”

  “Give it two weeks,” the guard said, “and you won’t be this cheeky.”

  “Two weeks. A lot can happen in that time. But I can assure you; losing my humor is not one of them.”

  The guard turned around and jammed his security stick into his stomach. Ten keeled over for a time, in pain.

  “Still laughing.”

  Ten coughed.

  “Always,” he replied. “Hit me again, friend, to your heart’s content. And what does that say about you? What does that ever say about you!”

  The guard merely grabbed him, raised him up and made him walk along further. Eventually, they reached the mess hall, and it was sectioned off into quarters. All hopes that Ten had of seeing his younger self were crushed when the section he was in did not contain Eight. Ten walked along the rows of prisoners, and the tables were filled up, except for one that had only one humanoid sitting by himself. Well, Ten thought the term humanoid was one he could use loosely, because the man’s facial features were clearly next to normal, but not really there. His features were wider, he had a bald head, with slight gills along his cheeks that reached to his ears, and Ten believed that he could tell the species. Seeing that everywhere else was filled up, he walked to the table and sat down.

  “I didn’t say that you could sit there,” the other prisoner said.

  “I didn’t really see your name on it.”

  “Touchy.”

  “No more than yourself.”

  “So, you showed co-dependent tendencies mixed in with a standard phobia.”

  “Did I sit next to a prisoner with a psychology degree?”

  “Perhaps you did. But it’s clear. You saw me sitting here, alone, and your mind immediately thought that I was an easy target. For clearly, with me sitting alone, I wouldn’t put up much of a fight with you sitting down. After all, I naturally would crave company and wish for freedom from my lonely state.”

  “You said it mate, not me. And please don’t give me the whole ‘I’m not really lonely’ speech. Because I’ve often found that those who give that speech usually are the loneliest people in the world.”

  “Lonelier than the ones who sit down next to us?”

  “Are you a Melrid?”

  The prisoner clapped.

  “Well done, you found out my species.
And what are you?”

  “I’m a Timelord.”

  The Melrid looked at him narrowly.

  “A Timelord? An ancient race, and you all fought the Daleks. And you made the universe bleed.”

  “We did our best.”

  “And it wasn’t good enough.”

  “And where were the Melrids during this all? Oh, that’s correct, you were on your planet. Doing nothing. Because that’s what the Melrids did. They don’t assist anyone, take sides, but remain impartial, and stand back while other planets are being destroyed around them.”

  “We just want to live.”

  “I would never rail against a person’s desire to live. I merely point out the fact that what my people fought and died for is the reason that the Melrid planet is still in the galaxy rather than destroyed. So, reserve your judgment.”

  “Is this how you begin your friendships?”

  “Is this how you always end them?”

  The Melrid continued to eat his food.

  “So, what is your name?” Ten asked.

  “Lesius,” he replied simply, “Son of Lestor. What about you?”

  “I’m the Doctor. Son of my father.”

  “You don’t like giving out his name.”

  “I’m not sure that you would like him.”

  “Father issues, huh? Gee, I don’t think I’ve ever met one man who has passed through this prison who didn’t suffer from that. So, what are you innocent of?”

  “Pardon?”

  “What are you in here for that you are innocent of?” Lesius pointed behind Ten, where four men were sitting. “Those men were innocent protestors, who are now here because they spoke up in the wrong circumstances.” He pointed to some other men. “That man over there was accused of murdering a government official, when in truth, he was working a lift during the situation, and even had an alibi. The Mecrellan government just wished to hide that the official was assassinated by another person in the cabinet. That man over there was accused of stealing some jewels from a museum that he was a security guard at. They needed a fall man.”