Parts 1 - 4, by Robert Holmes
6 - 27 September 1986
My summons find me not in the
Capitol, but tending to my garden. For delicate plants (and delicate
Time Ladies, for that matter) the atmosphere in the Capitol can be
decidedly poisonous at times. The rolling fields of burnished red at
Mount Perdition's foot, the fields on which I was raised, provide a much
healthier environment for the both of us.
My father hardly seems to notice I'm there. Others who know him have
said he's never been quite the same since I was loomed from one
important day of his. They say he
unspooled, came frayed at the
ends, when that day was removed. I suppose it's a lingering feeling of
guilt that has kept me from moving away, even into my second
regeneration. He refuses to ever leave my childhood home, saying that
he's still waiting for a hermit to return, a Stranger who once lived in a
cave on the highest peak. He's well into his last life, and has never
lived recklessly. I assume he's been waiting for a very long time.
The missive is an unwelcome intrusion into this quiet life, and I eye it
with a mix of resentment and suspicion. I'm no High Council emeritus,
nor a member of any esteemed society. My work with my botanical
specimens is my life, and I don't cherish any interruption to it. But
still, an invitation to such august company isn't something one ever
refuses, if one knows what's good for them. I accept, and take the next
shuttle to the Capitol, whence I can board a waiting time capsule.
The
Space Station Zenobia is impressive, even through the
scanner. I've never seen it before, and the sight is awe-inspiring.
Still, I can't help but wonder why we're so far out of the way, out at
the very edge of Kasterborous. Usually even the most closely guarded
trials are held at the Citadel. I put it out of my mind as I'm ushered
out of the capsule.
I'm shown to Courtroom 1, where the Madam Inquisitor shakes my hand and
thanks me for coming on short notice. I fidget in my tall, tall collar,
projecting confidence and trying to seem like I belong, some small part
of me still feeling like it's a mistake. After taking my seat with the
other judges, I am finally briefed on the nature of the inquiry I'm
about to sit in on.
Things begin to make a little more sense. The subject of the inquiry is
none other than the Doctor. As a rule, I don't make a point of paying
much attention to the activities of renegades, but I must confess to
having a sort of soft spot for this one in particular. I know all about
the Doctor, of course. His defeat of the Vardans and Sontarans took
place when I was a child and left a rather strong impression. I've
studied several more of his adventures, at least the ones that aren't
officially censored. Blame it on that dash of the romantic that exists
in me, buried deep beneath so many flower trimmings. The idea of seeing
him in person intrigues me, but I school myself, trying to remember that
I am supposed to be impartial.
Then the Doctor swans in, late, and I feel the needle swing the other
way. His disrespect for the assembly is absolutely staggering - as is
his dress sense. As the Valeyard's words wash over me, I harden my heart
to my childish fancy and focus on adult business. Along with everyone
else, I turn to regard the viewing portal to the Matrix as the Doctor's
misadventure on Ravolox plays out before us.
I'm a little mortified at first. I don't remember the adventures I'd
read as a child being quite so violent - or so laden with puerile humor.
The bumbling Andromedan spacers almost -
almost - break my composure. They
are a little funny, even if I only admit it privately.
I feel an immediate kinship with the Doctor's traveling companion, who
is very pretty, but perhaps more importantly a fellow botanist. I
reflect that traveling through time and space would allow one to explore
a far greater botanical realm, but if I had to keep such disreputable
company, maybe it's for the best that I've never had the chance.
When a row begins over censorship in the Matrix recordings, I pay it
little heed. The question of why the planet formerly known as Earth
finds itself spacially out of place is not really germane to the issue
of the Doctor's missteps. When the Valeyard moves to escalate the
proceedings to a full trial, I listen attentively. Have the Doctor's
adventures outstayed their welcome after all?
Parts 5 - 8, by Philip Martin
4 - 25 October 1986
Thoros-Beta seems so dazzling at first
with its many colors, but its luster fades once the Matrix begins to
look into its dark heart. There is such a depth of desparation and
sentient misery going on in those caves that it almost chokes me, its
thousands of slaves as distant to me as the creation of the universe,
but so real on the screen.
It makes it all the more galling that the Doctor treats his companion so
terribly as the events unfold. What a coward! Back in the courtroom, he
claims that the evidence has been tampered with. Even I know that ought
to be impossible, and I'm prepared to write the explanation off as mere
desperation. But the clear confusion and pain on the Doctor's face
gives me pause. Surely there's no chance that he's telling the truth?
My eyes remain riveted to the screen for the rest of the presentation.
As grisly as the display is, I simply can't stop watching. When, in its
course, it is revealed that the Doctor was performing a ruse after all, I
relax a little. He did the same thing during the Vardan incident, did
he not? But something still feels wrong.
The Doctor being forcibly plucked out of events before he has a chance
to clean up after himself stuns me. I barely hear the Inquisitor saying
that it had to be done, and am instead struck by the unfairness of it
all. Especially when the second blow arrives, showing the fate of his
charming companion.
"
You... killed Peri?" He no longer seems to fill the whole
courtroom, instead sounding so very small. My hearts break for him a
little, and as we break for recess, I steal a glance at the Valeyard.
Seeing a glint of smugness on his learned features makes me decide that
his "evidence" is having the opposite of the intended effect - on me, at
the very least.
Recess
During the
recess, I steal out of the hall, hiking the far too long hem of my robes
a little so that I can move with speed. I thus manage to prevent any of
my learned colleagues from stopping me as I go to find the Doctor.
He is lingering down one of the long, labyrinthine halls spiraling out
from the courtrooms, staring out the window. I doubt that he is actually
paying much attention to the shipwrecks outside. He seems a million
miles away. It takes him several moments to notice me standing nearby,
his eyes faintly reddened and his expression guarded.
I clasp my hands in front of myself to try and seem as important as I
have been dressed, but end up fidgeting instead. Anything I say will
seem paltry, but I pick something eventually. "I'm sorry. About what
happened to your companion."
There's an almost imperceptible softening in his gaze. "Yes," he
answers, more to himself than to me. A confusion follows, though, as he
looks at me strangely. "Have we met somewhere before, young lady?"
I blink, not knowing the answer. There's no way we could have. "I don't believe so."
The Doctor seems to shake it off after a moment, and sets his elbow on
the sill of the window, lofting an eyebrow at me. His eyes are a most
impressive blue, now that I can see them clearly. I try to focus on them
instead of the outfit. "The judges aren't meant to have private
discussions with the defendant, are they?"
"Well, no," I answer, gazing back the way I came. "But you don't have
any of your friends here." No character witnesses, I suddenly notice,
furrowing my brow. That is odd indeed, when it's the Doctor's character
that is being impeached. "If they wish to censure me for it when I
return, then I suppose they can."
He smiles, though it still has a sad tint to it. "You're welcome to be
as disobedient as you like. Renegades are welcome here." I smooth my
robe in embarrassment at that remark, and he looks back out into space
again, pondering. "I think that this may really be the end for me. Maybe
it's time."
"Don't say that," I protest, shocked. "I've read all about you. I know
the good you've done." To my surprise, I find that I mean it. How
quickly my opinion has solidified! I'm more surprised that the
realization doesn't shame me.
"And the ill?" he asks with an ironic lilt to his voice. "Oh, I'm not
quite the man I used to be. I was so sure of myself when I reached this
regeneration. Sure that I would do such great things, such that all my
previous could not compare!" He bows his head, forehead pressed to the
window. "But where has that bragadocious swagger, all that vim and
vinegar, gotten me? I seem to fail more often than not these days, each
adventure claiming a greater toll in lives than the last. All faded
glory, and missed chances. The autumn of my life... I'm starting to
think that the universe doesn't need a Doctor anymore."
"But that's all in the past," I cut in. "Those adventures may have been
written already, but what of those yet to come? I think the future may
vindicate you. You just have to fight long enough to see it."
He rises up, realization shining on his broad face, obviously having
heard something in my words that I did not. "But that's it, dear lady!
Of course, that's it!" He turns to me laughing and pats me boisterously
on each shoulder, jostling my collar. "Do pardon me, but I have much to
do before the recess is over."
He begins to rush off and I turn, bemused, to watch. He stops before
he's fully out of view to shout back: "... And thank you very much!"
I shake my head and slowly wend my way back to the courtroom, hands
folded in my sleeves and posture as upright as I can make it. The
Inquisitor raises an eyebrow at me, but says nothing as I go to sit. The
Valeyard's cool gaze is more difficult to ignore, but I try gamely
anyway as we wait for the court to return to session.
Parts 9 - 12, by Pip & Jane Baker
1 - 22 November 1986
The Doctor is all firm resolution
when he strides back in after the end of the recess. I'm not at all
shocked when he brings forward a Matrix recording of future events for
his defense. Perhaps unsurprisingly, there is legal precedence for this
in Gallifreyan jurisprudence, but it is still a bit fascinating. It's
with more than professional concern that I turn to regard the screen
when the events begin to play.
Once again, my botanical interest is piqued, though my reaction becomes
stunned horror as soon as I actually lay eyes on the so-called Vervoids.
How vulgar-looking they are! Still, I reflect sadly that the Doctor's
late companion might have gotten something out of this adventure. His
new friend, another Tellurian woman with a big personality, seems
capable enough, but her scream almost jostles me out of my seat.
All things considered, the Doctor behaves admirably in the recording.
His concern for his friend, and for the lives of the crew of
Hyperion III,
shine through. It seems clear enough to me that he went in with the
expectation that his assistance was specifically requested, and acted in
the knowledge that, had he not been there, things would have been much
worse.
I wonder what the Valeyard's counterpoint will be, until I see him rising in a great fury, his eyes flashing with victory. "
The charge must now be genocide!"
My jaw drops, and a murmur rushes through the proceedings. I find it an
absurd charge; I know a thing or two about dealing with weeds, and the
Doctor's point that his inaction would have led to the destruction of
the Tellurian race is a good one. But can it stand up in the face of the
law? I worry about the answer...
Parts 13 and 14, by Robert Holmes, Eric Saward, and Pip & Jane Baker
29 November - 6 December 1986
After a short break of
necessity, the Keeper of the Matrix is bundled into the room to account
for the Doctor's accusations of tampering. He swears up and down that no
tampering could have taken place, leaving the Doctor with little wiggle
room unless witnesses can somehow be produced. A glaring omission from
these proceedings which I noticed earlier, but at this late stage I'm
not sure if any can be scrounged up.
Accordingly, I am a bit flummoxed when Sabalom Glitz and Melanie Bush
suddenly stride into the room. So, it seems, is the Doctor. Scarcely do
they have their introductions out of the way before a malevolently
smiling face with an urbane voice appears on the Matrix monitor. It was
he who summoned the two witnesses, to intercede on the Doctor's behalf —
despite their long antipathy.
I'm bewildered when I realize that most in the courtroom don't seem to
know who the man is. The assassination of Lord President Pandad was
before my time, but I still know about the Master's part in it all too
well. I start to wonder just how much the most wise and learned members
of Time Lord society actually
read their history.
So distracted am I by this thought that I almost think I mishear the Master when he refers to the Valeyard as
Doctor.
Suddenly the proceedings take on a new tinge, and the Doctor's
expression of sheer horror is a good echo of what I feel. I, and all of
my fellow jurors, were used in a power play by the High Council? I feel
shaken to my very core.
The news scarcely has time to sink in before the Valeyard has made a run
for it, the Doctor and Glitz hot on his heels. Confused and fearful
chatter echoes through the chamber, while the Master continues to
exposit on the events that have transpired without our knowing. He soon
excuses himself, however, allowing the screen to track the Doctor
through the Matrix. We rejoin him just as he's ensnared in a false
courtroom scene where his guilty verdict is delivered. His companion
rushes off to his rescue, and soon the Doctor is exploring some absurd
factory again, rubbing his chin at a list of names.
"
... Of Time Lords attending my trial," he muses. "
Every member of the Ultimate Court of Appeal, the supreme guardians of Gallifreyan law. The handwriting..."
"
It's yours!" Mel says, breathless.
"And there's another thing," the Doctor continues, raising his eyebrows slightly. "There's one name too few on this list.
Someone in that courtroom is not supposed to be there."
A hush passes over the room, the words on the screen sending a ripple
through all present. I shrink in on myself a little, that feeling of
unbelonging waxing once more. I knew it was a mistake. Will I be punished for hearing state secrets, even if it was quite against my will?
The revelation does not have time to sit fully before the Master takes
over the screen again, while the Keeper returns to inform us that the
High Council has been deposed by a mass uprising on Gallifrey. It
appears that the Master has broadcast the whole trial to the interested
public in order to overthrow the Council. That settles my worries about
impending arrest a little bit, but opens a whole new set of problems.
What in the stars will happen to us now? We can never let this... this
villain take over Gallifrey!
We are saved from that fate when some calamity befalls the Master, and
Mel rushes in, urging us all to evacuate. I barely make it halfway to
the door before the screen above us shatters, and I hit the floor,
ducking beneath the pews. The acrid smell of ozone fills the air, but
blessedly, not the sounds of the dying. I laugh in disbelief when I look
up and find that everyone has survived.
I feel a hand on my arm and realize it's the Inquisitor, helping me to
my feet. I shy away from her gaze a little, but she only smiles before
looking around and recalling all the judges now that the danger has
passed. When the Doctor does return, a few minutes later, it is to the
happy news that the trial has been called off, and himself cleared of
all charges.
I beam with satisfaction, but only moments pass before the Doctor moves
to escape yet another unwanted presidential bid. He brushes past me as
he goes, and I think to give him a word or two about his conduct before I
notice a slip of paper that has been slipped into my hand. I uncrumple
it and read:
Dare to think differently!
— D
Laughing openly and not caring who notices, I stand there with it a
moment. But time runs short, and I'm very eager to get home, to the
comforting hush of wind in the grass, far away from this place.
I never notice the pair of eyes coolly following me as I go, gazing out from under the Keeper's skullcap.
(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 4 June 2024.)
