ELEVENTH WAVE

[astrogate]

CHARACTERS: any and all
LOCATION: Gravity Couches and beyond
WARNINGS: maybe some swearing, or even some violence, and more than likely some implied (and possibly explicit) nakedness.
SUMMARY: Another month, another jump, another round of new faces.
NOTES: Keeping up with the tradition and copy pasted like always from the last one


You wake up in darkness.


There's a breathing tube jammed down your trachea, and you're suspended in a tube of clear blue fluid. Upon registering your level of consciousness, the gravity couch drains the fluid surrounding you and retracts the breathing apparatus; the doors in front of you open, and you're deposited on the floor of a stark, sterile medical bay.

You are not alone.


There are others who have come before you, others who are awakening beside you. Some may be familiar to you, perhaps even friends. Others have much less amiable plans. Some are merely alien and inexplicable, but there are always those who might mean you harm.

After you catch your breath and your vision returns, you notice a number on the inside of your forearm. Maybe it's a familiar number. Maybe it means something. Maybe it's just a number. But the number—completely unique to you—is a tattoo, and it does not come off.

If you enter the room adjacent to the medbay, you will find a small locker with your number on it, surrounded by rows upon rows of identical lockers. Inside, you will find a few of your personal items, a communications device, and a ship's uniform in your exact size. The comms device is fully powered and connects directly to the ship's network; it's your only means of communication beyond physical conversation. Upon turning the device on, a neutral, automated voice will say, "Please take the blue lift to the passenger quarters." Any other attempts at communicating with the rest of the network are met only with static.

This is your welcome party.

Comments

[andyouwill]

[The superior eyebrow lift is shifting to a quizzical one. Apparently this "Time War" thing was a big deal...?]

An android. Using the psychic imprint left in the heart of the TARDIS after [slightly embarrassed pause] the events in San Francisco.

[No, but really, Doctor, you seem freaked out and it's worrying the Master, just a smidge.] Professor Song also made reference to a "Time War." Would this be the conflict arising after the Daleks gained access to the Vortex?

[meddler]

San Francisco. I can see why you wouldn't want to remember it. That was a really rubbish accent.

[ Not to mention... the hijacking of that body wasn't exactly what he'd call decent. But that was beside the point right now. No... the far bigger question was... ]

What made me decide to—

[ but that wasn't the question either. ]

You've talked to RIVER SONG?!?!

[ Yes. That was all he could focus on right now.

Time War details could wait, of course. ]

[andyouwill]

I was dealing with the rapidly decaying body of an American ambulance driver. [He'd like to see you do as well, Doctor. You can't even regenerate without swooning and monologuing about how different you are this time around.]

I was of aid to you during...certain traumatic events. Despite my disembodied state at the time.

I have, indeed, spoken to Professor River Song. A charming and erudite lady. Something of a departure from your usual type. [Kind of reminicent of the Master, in fact.

...No, but seriously, this Time War thing is worrying.] The appellation of "Last Great Time War" seems somewhat melodramatic. You and I resolved that conflict quickly enough, did we not?

[meddler]

[ And whose fault was that, Master? But, they'd have plenty of time to bicker in the future (if the last two months had been any indication of how difficult it would be to get out of here) but...

There were two more pressing matters at hand.

First, was the missus and the ex the Master and his apparent acquaintanceship with one Professor Song ]

It's not like— Well, it might be but— It's complicated. And I don't want you speaking to her.

[ For more than a few reasons. One, being that he still couldn't quite fully trust her. The other being that... they might start trading stories. Which was a childish thought, but the Doctor had long ago earned that right, hadn't he?

And now for that second part. Which he really didn't want to talk about. ]

If by "quickly", you mean that I didn't even know you were resurrected by the Time Lords and you ran to the end of the universe [ ...come to think of it, the Master did rather sound like Professor Yana, which lends more than enough believability to his android story ]...

It was a bad day.

[ and that's all he really wants to say about it. ]

...utterly gratuitous edit so i can use this icon.

[andyouwill]

[Yes, yes, all the Master's fault for being such a naughty, bad renegade that both the Time Lords and the Daleks saw fit to execute him, and then he went out and stole another body, how very shocking and inappropriate of him. You try being a psychic goosnake, Doctor, and see if even a zombie human body with a bad accent doesn't start seeming like a better option.

The Master rolls his eyes at all the fluster over his having spoken to the Doctor's latest pet.] Of course I shall respect your wishes, my dear, and leave the lady entirely alone. [Please. Who do you think you're talking to, here?

But no, what now, all of that is crazy talk. The Master ran? What? He huffs a disbelieving little laugh.] Considering the hullabaloo with which the High Council greeted the news of this body's construction, I find it remarkable that they could have deigned to resurrect me, even had I not already been traveling with you at the start of the latest little contretemps with the Daleks. Brax and President Romanadvoratrelundar had enough trouble justifying our continued existence after we'd cleared up the mess for them.

get away from the ladies. >:|

[meddler]

[ Well maybe if the Master didn't have such an obsession with ruling the universe and just went exploring like the clearly better renegade time lord, he wouldn't have even had to be a psychic goosnake.

But no, that would be too sane for him. ]

I'll have my eye on you if you try anything... Usual. [ And ears. And... well... everything.

And back to that conversation that he wished he wasn't having. That he never knew he had to have. That by all rights shouldn't happen because there shouldn't be a universe where everything turned out just fine.

Where Romana, Brax, and the whole lot of them were still... ]

After San Francisco, I thought you'd actually managed to stay dead, and as you can probably see that idea never crossed my mind.

[ Though he was starting to wonder if maybe it should have. ]

Either way. It was worse for me. Worse for the Time Lords. It began to escalate until it threatened to consume all of time and space. So they used the Matrix to bring back their "best and brightest". You were one.

[ As mistaken as they were.

He swallows. ]

Rassilon was another.

[andyouwill]

[They were both adventurers in time and space, Doctor. They just took different approaches. And all right, the Master's approach had been ... expensive in terms of lives: he'd maybe been a little reckless with his regenerations, early on. What would you have him do then, give up? Give in to death, so many centuries - millennia! - before it should have been his time? Before he'd accomplished the many great things he wanted to do? No. But this argument was far too well-trodden between them: they'd never agree, or even understand why the other was so obtuse and cruel as not to see their point.

The Master has accepted that, however grudgingly, just as he's accepted that the Doctor seems to function better in many ways when he's got one of his little human pets at his side. But he knows better than to say so. He just gives his old friend a sort of demi-semi-hemi-smirk, fond and vastly superior.] I shall endeavor to be unusual, then, Doctor.

[He nearly says something cutting, though, at that idea never crossed my mind. Because of course it didn't, when did the Doctor ever stop underestimating the Master's will to live, or think of what he might be suffering in order to survive? (Being swallowed by the TARDIS really had been a very slow and painful death, and the Master was something of a connoisseur of those.)

Nevermind all that for now. There was something very wrong with what the Doctor was describing, with that haunted, ancient expression in his eyes.

It was gratifying to hear of the Time Lords acknowledging the Master as their best and brightest - quite true, and of course if the Time Lords were at war he would be the best possible choice for a warrior. But.] Rassilon? [incredulous huff of a laugh] Who could ever have thought that was a good idea?

[No, this was wrong, bad, and the Master was genuinely concerned. (Not on the Doctor's behalf, of course. The very idea was absurd.) The Master had a fine, well-bred Gallifreyan distaste for comparing personal histories in too much detail, or sharing feelings about past events, but.

He takes another step forward. And the Doctor's going to feel a wordless brush against his mind. Nothing forceful, or so old-fashioned as the question "Contact," just a soft knock on a door.]

[meddler]

[ For perhaps one brief moment, the Doctor almost gives his arch-nemesis a playful smile. Or rather, as playful of a smile as anyone can give when they're talking to an android version of their arch-nemesis from an alternate universe. ] Somehow, I just knew you'd say that. I'll have my eye out for the unusual as well.

[ But, back to more pressing matters. Since the Time War (with the exception of that one uninvited occasion, the Doctor hasn't let another fully into his mind. Oh, there was Reinette and Craig, but that was different.

Regardless, actions did speak louder than words, and what better place to start than with four simple beats.

Tap tap tap tap. ]

[andyouwill]

[Really, the Master would have been surprised if he had been let in entirely. The Doctor was often naive, but when he wasn't having one of his miserable self-destructive episodes he did possess some sense of self-preservation, at least with regard to the Master.

So this wary half-permission was all very well. Except: what the sepulchasm was that supposed to mean?

A Gallifreyan heartsbeat? The Morse code for "H"? The opening notes to "Love Is Like A Bottle of Gin" or a Venusian waltz?

There were few things the Master liked less than admitting ignorance to the the Doctor, but he couldn't help but be curious about why four beats were so significant.

He pushed an annoyed, baffled ? back as reply.]

[meddler]

[ Maybe he should've expected that reply. An alternate universe where the Time War didn't quite happen would mean that the time lords didn't quite have a reason to send the transmission back, which meant...

No drums. No drums, and the Master still seemed to have done everything exactly as he had. Or maybe he never heard them until the Time War. Always and never. Wibbily wobbily and all that.

But no. Back to everything at hand.

Of course, the Doctor wasn't eager to give everything away, but he does have an answer for the Master. A memory (from another lifetime, when he was even skinnier, and a bit older-looking) of a half-dead half-madman that he was sure not to be overly thrilled about.

But he might as well hear it from his own mouth.

It hurts, Doctor. The noise. The noise in my head, Doctor. One two three four, one two three four, one-two-three-four! Stronger then ever before. Can't you hear it?

Tap tap tap tap.

The Time Lords had tricked them both. ]

[andyouwill]

["Not overly thrilled" would be one way of putting it, yes.

The Master takes that memory and all its implications in for a moment. His psychic control is too good for whatever he's feeling in reaction to bleed over into the Doctor's consciousness, but the speed and harshness with which he slams his mental shields back in place and breaks the connection in the next moment is fairly telling.

He stares, impassive, at the Doctor. The Master is suddenly more than ready for this conversation to be over. There are doubtless many matters that will need attending to in settling in on the ship.

One in particular, in fact.] There is something I am obliged to give you, having found myself outside the confines of our TARDIS. [His tone is distant and indifferent.]

[meddler]

[ He might have expected that reaction. At the very least, the Doctor hoped that it all but ensured the Time War wouldn't be brought up again for some time (and all that came with it). But, given the sort of men that the both of them were, he knew that eventually, he'd have to face that particular truth again.

But he might just run from it as long as he can. ]

What is it?

[ And he might just be a little bit more shaken up than usual as well. Any discussion about the Time War is bound to take it out of him ]

[andyouwill]

You placed a number of conditions on your offer to construct a body for me to inhabit. This was the first, and non-negotiable.

[He abstracts from one of his suit pockets a small, black remote control, equipped with a single button and a little red light.]

Your programming of my electronic brain was quite clear on this point. I am not capable of leaving the TARDIS by my own will. In the event, however, that I am somehow nevertheless removed from her confines, I must attempt to locate you - or a version of you - and present you with this control, explaining its function and the rules connected to its use.

[He holds it out on the flat of his hand, like a sweet to a child or a dagger to the murderer half of a murder-suicide pact. The recitation goes on, dispassionate.] If no version of you appears to be in attendance, I am required to seek out any of your companions who may be present and offer it, and my services to them. The parameters for the explanation I am to give differs slightly for them than for you, though the essentials remain the same.

Failing that, I must use it to switch myself off.

[meddler]

Well, I'd hope that I did. [ Given the Master's penchant for... destroying parts of the universe, or attempting to rule it (sometimes both at the same time), it'd only make sense for his... counterpart to do something to curve that tendency.

Though he cannot help but imagine how difficult that must be for the Master, as he listens on.

But, in the long run, it was very definitely for the best. ]

So... you're just giving it to me?

[ That was the gist of it, clearly. But, he couldn't help but think that there was some kind of catch. Robotic body designed by himself or no, the Master still was the Master.

And if the Doctor knew anything, he knew that he had a habit of getting himself out of sticky situations. ]

[andyouwill]

[You really can't imagine how difficult it is for the Master, Doctor, but you are cordially invited to try.

If anything the Master's expression has just gotten more pleasantly blank, but the ambient temperature figuratively drops another several degrees. And it was already pretty figuratively icy.] I don't think you quite grasp the phrase "your programming of my electronic brain," my dear. Or the word "must."

Only you are permitted to make changes to my behavioral commands. [Because obviously the first thing the Master would have changed for himself would be that condition, and however determined his Doctor had been never to take on another human companion, obviously he couldn't have the Master just conning the first new person they came across into doing a little creative rewiring.

Oh, and of course the Master had tried many approaches to overcome this little problem, and had many more still up his sleeve. But his Doctor had a lot of free time to foil his live-in Master's schemes, and very little compunction about switching him off whenever it was necessary or convenient.

He'd have to see how this iteration of the Doctor compared. But since the immediate alternative was to give him the remote or face automatic systems shutdown...

Blandly courteous, and still holding it out, like a salesman giving a scripted product demo he's not all that keen on:] Do you understand the remote control's features as I have explained them to you, Doctor?

[meddler]

[ It is... a lot to take in, if he's being perfectly honest. Alternate universe, Android Master (living in the TARDIS), Time Lords alive. It almost sounded like a better universe.

Almost. But, the Doctor wasn't going to let his thoughts get the better of him just yet. No, back to the conversation at hand. ]

Of course. I know you. So, it only makes sense that I... he... me [ Tenses are rather troublesome at times. You know how it is. ]... I'd be the only one. And don't think I'd change anything. Can't have you going out trying to take over the universe again, can I?

[ The Doctor's just about to take it, when a thought crosses his mind. ]

If I say "no", do you have to repeat all that again?

[ But thankfully for you, Master, if that happens to be the case, the Doctor is not a sadist by any stretch of the imagination.

Probably. ]

[andyouwill]

[That universe's Doctor wouldn't agree with you, and the Master would be amused by that assessment given the amount of time he has to deal with a drunken, morose TARDISmate loudly proclaiming that he's not going to be at the beck and call of the Time Lords and the Celestial Intervention Agency any longer, damn them.

But the Time War is probably unimaginable for anyone who didn't live through it. This Master hasn't quite figured out that Gallifrey is gone, since a civilization that's controlled the universe for a hundred million years seems pretty unassailable to one of its children, however estranged. (Well, there was that time he was going to destroy it himself in order to extend his life, but the Master wasn't really at his best just then.)

But something has happened, something involving a Time Lock, something that made River Song astonished to meet him and put that weariness in this Doctor's eyes. And ...damaged... his counterpart somehow. The Master is torn between curiosity and a suspicion that he might really not want to know, and suspects he now has another reason to hate his own species and his oldest friend. As though he needed one.

Nevermind all that for now. He can think of it later, when he is alone.

In response to his second question, the Doctor gets a flat look. ...No.

Do you have any questions, Doctor, relevant to the remote, my programming, or my functions?