Doctor Who: The Time Splicer: The Imitation Games

by Cour M.

  “Where is the Doctor? Let me see him.”

  “You will see him presently. More inquiries will be done, but I know the way this system works. I therefore come to prepare you.”

  “For what?”

  “For the inevitable outcome.”

  “What outcome?”

  “The Doctor will be found guilty, whether he is given a proper hearing or not. As his partner, you will be so as well. And you both shall be executed.”

  “What?”

  “Yes.”

  “With or without a proper trial? That is outrageous.”

  “From your perspective, I can see how it would appear as such.”

  General Vander nodded to her and began to leave.

  “I will arrange for you and the Doctor to be given the same cell.”

  “You are too kind,” Martha sneered.

  “I apologize for any inconvenience this may cause you.”

  Martha looked at him, incredulous.

  “Are you kidding me?” She asked.

  “Just out of curiosity, from the little we know about the Doctor, he often travels with companions from a certain planet. Where are you from?”

  “Earth.”

  “Earth?” His eyebrow raised. “How ironic. And how very interesting.”

  He nodded to Martha and left.

  Chapter 4

  The Lonely Hours

  Martha paced in her cell, then she halted when she heard the door opening once more. Being prepared for the worst, her spirit lifted when the Doctor emerged, followed by a guard.

  “Martha!” The Doctor emphasized. He opened his arms, and Martha rushed into them.

  “How are you?” She asked as they hugged.

  “Alive until morning.”

  “Same here.”

  “You both shall remain here for the night,” the guard instructed, “and your meal shall be presented to you shortly.”

  “I’m a ‘potatoes’ chap myself,” the Doctor informed him.

  “We don’t grow those here. Whatever those are.”

  The guard left.

  “They don’t grow potatoes,” Ten marveled, “how terribly barbaric.”

  “They wouldn’t poison us by food, would they?”

  “Nonsense! It would not be grand enough for them perhaps.”

  “Lovely. So, have you got a plan?”

  “Yes. My plan was to get into this cell. What, did you think they came up with it all by themselves? Please! It took subtle hints.”

  “Well, now we are here together, so… what’s next?”

  “Now I come up with a new plan.”

  “Once more, in your own time then.”

  “Great, thanks. I work better in my own time frame, as you know.”

  “I’m still figuring that out, bless you though.”

  Ten walked around the set and looked over all of it.

  “And now you’re trying to determine what’s the weakest spot of the cell?” Martha observed.

  “Yes, and tragically, your cell is structured like the one I was in.”

  “And let me guess. You looked for every weak spot in that as well, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did you get on?”

  “I thought the answer was perfectly obvious. After all, I’m in here, now aren’t I?”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “And of course, they just had to confiscate my screwdriver. Dirty buggers.”

  Martha sat down and watched the Doctor as he was pacing. Eventually he gave up, turned to her and sat down.

  “Brave heart, Martha.”

  “You would think I was a coward for crying, I suppose.”

  “No, I wouldn’t,” he assured her. He moved toward her, sat down, Martha leaned against his arm and wept without tears, but the grief was still too real. The Doctor placed his arm around her shoulders and let her have her cry out.

  ⌛

  “So,” Martha continued, after she could eventually calm down. She was laying on the floor of the cell and the Doctor was laying on the other side of the cell, adjacent to her. “You were here before?”

  “Not to my knowledge.”

  “Bollix! There’s no need for lies now. We are arrested because you put a stop to the Imitation Game thing.”

  “Martha, my memory is as excellent as it shall ever get, and I can tell you, I’ve never been to this planet before. And I would have remembered shutting down a global game that was established from creating a mirror bridge in two different points in time. I’m sure if I was here, I would have remembered something about that situation.”

  “So, you’re saying that they are mistaking you for another Doctor or something?”

  “While that would be marvelous to be the case, I’m not actually saying that either. They believe that they’ve seen me before and that I fought against them. They might be right.”

  Martha rolled her head, looking at him, vexed.

  “Doctor, please try and make sense. First you say you were not here, but now you’re saying that you might have been.”

  “Martha, I’m Ten. The Tenth Doctor, and the tenth incarnation of myself. I’m over 900 years old, and from what I recall, none of my past selves ever came here.”

  “None of your past selves,” Martha stressed.

  “Precisely. You see, that’s the problem with time travel; it’s intricate, complicated and it can get bendy very easily.”

  “Timey-wimey wibbly wobbly mess,” Martha smirked, echoing his words when they had first encountered the weeping angels.

  “Timey-wimey wibbly wobbly mess,” Ten repeated, chuckling. “Well, yes. Well, two different versions of myself can show up on the same planet at different times, and not always in the right order.”

  “Oh! So, you, number Ten, didn’t come here, but you’re implying that a future version of yourself could have.”

  “Yes, it’s possible that it could have been so. For example, when I was Nine, I visited Britain in World War II. A future version of myself could show up there again, in the same time frame, and they wouldn’t even think that they could run into each other.”[2]

  “Can you ask them if they have any footage of you when you first came here, so that you can know which version of you that it is?”

  “Martha, when we regenerate, yes, we start again, but also die. We’re the same man, but different versions of ourselves. Imagine if you died, and then were reborn. Would you want to know what you looked like, or who you were? To see that version of you will show you that you will die, and be swallowed up into a new version of yourself. Martha, I feel that, if I see him, my future self, it might hurt me.”

  Martha rolled over, laid on her stomach and looked at him pointedly.

  “Doctor, I’ve seen you face death so many times, with no fear, or apprehension. But now, tell me, are you truly afraid?”

  “Truly, madly, deeply. I can face death sometimes, but other times… well, I suppose I cannot face myself.”

  “Don’t worry,” Martha assured him, “your future self is gone now. And you will not have to see him.”

  “Thank you. I think then, and only then, might I be properly afraid.”

  “You don’t have to think that—Doctor, I remember how you were when we were on that ship and were crashing into the sun.”

  “Don’t do that,” he demanded, “don’t talk about the past now.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t want to.”

  “Well, I do. So how about you ask me how I feel for a moment?”

  Ten gave her a look and looked away.

  “I remember that day,” Martha continued, “when we tried to help that crew as they were crashing into the sun. And when you got consumed by the sun, you got scared. Doctor, it didn’t make you look weak. It doesn’t. Besides, fear is important.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why is fear important?”

  “Because it means you care. And it means that you wan
t to live.”

  Ten looked away from her and up at the ceiling. Martha knew that he wasn’t going to reply, as she expected him not to. So much of their relationship was defined by the words that were not spoken. Therefore, she was quite surprised when he did speak again.

  “Martha, when I was consumed by the sun when we went to save that whole ship from crashing in 42 minutes—oh, those 42 minutes! — well, if I was merely going to die, I suppose that it was not death that scared me at the moment, but the moment after.”

  “Your regeneration?”

  “No, but rather that I thought I might not have been able to regenerate. I worried that that would be the end, and I also worried that—well, I was consumed by the sun. All I had to do was look at someone and I could burn them to death. I was a walking weapon. The most dangerous weapon in the universe. And if I had lost, I would have killed everyone on that ship… and I would have killed you. And so, I was scared.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Martha, I’ve lost control before, and I promised myself that I never would do it again. And then I did it again. And you saw it.”

  “But we made it,” she stressed, “Doctor, we made it. You’re here, and the universe is safe.”

  “Yes, we did make it. However,” he smiled, “I don’t think the universe is safe just yet.”

  “Actually, it never is, is it?”

  “Not even by a long shot. If only I could run faster!”

  Martha and he laughed over that.

  They were interrupted when General Vander entered.

  ⌛

  As he looked at them, Martha and the Doctor remained laying on the ground.

  “Please, don’t trouble yourselves on my account,” General Vander boomed.

  “Don’t worry,” Ten replied casually, “we weren’t.”

  General Vander pulled up a chair and sat down opposite them.

  “So, you are Martha Jones, of Earth?” He asked Martha.

  “I am.”

  “What was the year you were from?”

  “Why do you ask her that?” Ten interrupted, “because if you are, then I can assure you that there are cooler years for this planet to imitate.”

  “I didn’t ask you,” General Vander pointed out, “so tell me, Doctor Jones, what year were you from and what place?”

  “I cannot say,” Martha replied.

  “I assure you, your world is safe from us. We don’t invade other planets, but just simply mimic the harm you place on yourselves. And it would be wise for you to obey me now. What year and place are you from?”

  “London, England, 2007.”

  “Ah, I don’t know all of Earth’s history, but nothing much remarkable happens in that year. A few alien invasions, am I right? But nothing that prolific to mimic.”

  “I hope you continue to look at it that way.”

  General Vander’s eyes narrowed on the Doctor.

  “And you are the Doctor.”

  “You found me out at last,” he snapped his fingers and swiped the air, in jest, “good for you.”

  “From our records of your nature, you travel with a companion, preferably much younger than you. Yes, that is the way of the old man, isn’t it? He always prefers being amongst younger people.”

  “The younger you start with them, the longer they can remain with you.”

  Martha blinked, not knowing that this was the reason for it.

  “Surprised that I know your nature, Doctor,” General Vander remarked, “Disappointed that you are so transparent? The Doctor: the Timelord who is a rebel, a romantic, a madman, a hero, a villain… and a wise man. But I always felt that you lacked wisdom.”

  “I always preferred to be a gentlemanly idiot sometimes,” Ten joked, “sometimes idiots are the best people to know. Intelligence in the wrong hands is quite dangerous. By the way, might I see your hands?”

  General Vander smirked and then turned to Martha.

  “So, how did he lure you in? Did he offer you all of time and space? And now he’s delivered you to a cell. Well, now you shall see time and space, brought to you from the safety of your own room.”

  He snapped his fingers and then a hologram appeared behind him, with impeccable clarity. Martha described it to herself as if she was watching a room-sized television.

  On the hologram, there was footage of what appeared to be an Olympics competition on Earth.

  “This is the Olympics,” Ten recognized.

  “Can you guess the year by the footage taken?” General Vander asked. “Based on the look and clothing.”

  Ten squinted.

  “1948.”

  “The Olympics that took place on Earth after one of the planet’s legendary wars.”

  “World War II,” Martha summed up.

  “Precisely.”

  “And why are you showing this to us?”

  “You’ll see. Go on, remain seated as your food shall be brought to you. I hope you enjoy the spectacle.”

  Food was brought to the Doctor, Martha and General Vander. The general placed a napkin on his collar and began to eat with alacrity. Martha looked at her food, dubious, and then turned to see the Doctor eating voraciously. She gave him a look.

  “Don’t worry,” Ten assured her, “if they kill us, they would never do it by poison and in secret. It’s just not bombastic and large enough for them.”

  “Well said, Doctor,” General Vander complimented.

  “Thank you so much,” the Doctor said, in between bites. Giving in and admitting that she was very hungry, Martha began to eat as well. Unable to deny that the food was good, she began to take great gulps as they watched the Olympics footage from 1948 London. The particular footage was the day of the track events. She wondered why they were watching bits of the game, but she didn’t ask. Eventually, the High Jump Event took place and an African American track runner, announced as Alice Coachman, came forward and as she prepared to jump over the pole, Martha leaned forward.

  “Wait, hang on,” she objected, “that’s not Alice Coachman.”

  General Vander’s eyes squinted when he looked at Martha, but it was not a sneer. It was a shrewd look.

  “It’s not?” He asked her.

  “No, it’s not. Not the real one.” Martha turned to the Doctor. “When I was back in school, I did a project on the 1948 Olympics. The whole event was pushed back because of World War II. When it finally took place, the American Track team won the High Jump Event. It was Alice Coachman, and she was the first African American to win an Olympic gold medal. I had pictures of her, and believe me, that looks nothing like her.”

  General Vander clapped his hands.

  “Well done,” he complimented, then he turned to the hologram, “Computer, zoom out of the games by 200%.”

  The hologram zoomed out and it showed a stadium, but not the Empire Stadium, or any of the other venues that the 1948 Olympics took place in.[3] No, this was a stadium that took place right in the middle of an alien conglomeration; a whole city that had technology superior to Earth.

  “It’s an imitation,” General Vander explained, “that took place a week ago, right here in Draconis. We had planned it for a year. A complete re-doing of the 1948 Summer Olympics, officially known as the Games of the XIV Olympiad, were an international multi-sport event which was held in London, England, United Kingdom. After a 12-year hiatus because of World War II, like you said, Miss Jones, and these were the first Summer Olympics since the 1936 Games in Berlin.”

  “So, that’s not Alice Coachman?” Martha summed up, “but someone pretending to be her.”

  “All of them are citizens and natives of the planet Mecrellas, brought from different parts of the planet to mimic your legendary event.”

  “And you drew them from poor and criminal sides of your society.”

  “No,” General Vander smirked, “these are volunteers from all over. You see, this is a professional event that is meant to glorify the sportsman spirit, so this is a controlled imitatio
n that was organized out of our planet’s best and most talented citizens. And this is what you, Doctor, shut down the first time.”

  “Ah,” The Doctor sighed, “before we get to the heart of the confusion, let’s discuss what this whole moment was about. You give me footage of the good sides of these Imitation Games… the sides that are inspirational. Yet even then, I still am not impressed. You are copying other planets histories, because you lack the creativity to have your own.”

  “We are a people who lack the imagination to create such events, it’s true. But we also lack the destructive mindset of so many other cultures. Cultures like humans, the species you love so much.”

  “So, you copy that too,” The Doctor continued, “don’t think I’m distracted by this beautiful event. I know you perhaps still hold Imitation Wars of the bloodier sides of other planets.”

  “If we only mimicked the happy moments, it would get tedious for the audience.”

  “So, you kill your own species for sport? That makes you worse than killing each other due to feelings of strife. You take lives for entertainment.”

  “Well, part of our society are entertainers.”

  “That’s horrible,” Martha declared.

  “It’s life, Miss Jones. And I am well-learned on the history of your planet. So, I ask you, where do you think we got the idea from?”

  Martha leaned back in her chair and thought about it.

  “Oh no,” she realized, “you researched the Roman games at the Colosseum.”

  ⌛

  “Yes, that is exactly what they did,” Ten answered for the General. “You gathered inspiration from the gladiator games from ancient Rome. Mix that idea in with a lack of creative imagination to kill in your own ways, a desire to enhance the original event, then top it all off with a lack of empathy, and you get this.”

  “It’s life,” General Vander stated simply, “and you of all individuals have no right to judge. But that didn’t stop you from doing it the first time.”

  “And about that… what did I do, exactly?”

  “Doctor, don’t take me for an idiot, or you’ll hurt yourself.”

  “Well, I do take you for an idiot, and I have no qualms with hurting myself. Now tell me, you say that I defeated you. So, how did I?”