Star Trek Dr. Who - city on the edge of nowhere

Sarah looked at the Doctor as though he'd lost his mind. "And how are we supposed to do that? We're only three and we don't have mental powers like the Sisters."

"Not on their level," Spock agreed. "But there are other ways to protect oneself, if one can find the means. However, I see that technology is severely limited on Karn."

"We have no need for machines, Vulcan," Maren said. "If it will help, there is starcraft wreckage not far from the Shrine. The first attacks were from the sky. We pulled the enemy down, smashing them into the desert of burning sands."

"It's worth a look," the Doctor said.

The fires had cooled as fast as they had spread. The atmosphere was now thin and dark in a radiation winter of after-blast. Karn was a shattered planet.

The jagged remains of a once-proud civilization stood like monuments in a freezing cold environment of wind, gray dust and black ash. Only in the temple of the Sisterhood, nestled in its warm mountain home under the protective shield was there any sign of life.

Ground zero was nothing but a vast dark crater scarring the terrain. On the outskirts of the blackened maw that had once been a city, nearly leveled ruins flared with eerie light.

Superheat had fused an archway into a circle of stone. Blue fire shot through that stone, sending a sign melted almost beyond recognition to the blackened soil. A cloud of dust and ash blew away as a low throbbing hum mixed with the soft howl of the wind.

Antimatter radiation fueled it, reviving the intelligence recorded in its memory. Artificial life glowed, fusing with the forces of nature, blending into the rock and metal. Growing stronger, it pulsed, flexing its new freedom. Hungry, it scanned the gray cold, focusing on the fallen sign. MATRIX-DEVELOPMENT CENTER, it recorded and remembered. It knew its purpose now.

Time access engaged and the living machine of a would-be new race reached out across the zones of time. Feeling the pulse of the universe, it began recording the history of all that existed. It called itself, the Guardian of Forever.



Captain's Log Stardate: 5505.6 The Enterprise is now in the vicinity of the planet of the Guardian of Forever. Situation critical. The rips and tears in the fabric of space are increasing at an alarming rate. Glimpses of other realities, other times are slipping through the holes. Word has it the Romulan and Klingon Empires report similar occurrences as well. It's as if our very existence id dissolving. James T. Kirk thumbed the button, shutting off the recorder in his cabin. He rubbed his tired eyes, leaning back in his chair. The alert status indicator in his cabin glowed bright yellow. And it would go red before much longer. He could feel it. He took a sip of coffee and grimaced, setting the cup of steaming liquid on the desk top. He was swimming in the stuff. He'd been up for almost two shifts now and they were no closer to finding the cause of the anomalies. In desperation, Starfleet had ordered his ship, his crew to a quarantined planet that brought nothing but bitter-sweet memories. Edith Keeler was the dust of three centuries past, but to him, she was still a recent memory. But how could the Guardian of time tell them what was wrong? All it could do was show the past, not the future. Biting a knuckle, he stared at the blank computer screen. Why did he feel like he'd rather face a fleet of Klingon battle cruisers than deal with what was lurking out there. Never, in his entire time of service, had he felt this way about a mission. But an ominous dread filled him now. He tried to work a kink out of his shoulder. The crew was on edge, he was on edge, and he could swear the ship itself felt that way too. Wearily, he rose, crossing his cabin. He rolled onto his bed, right arm draped across his eyes. He'd left orders for Spock to call as soon as they entered the Guardian's solar system. For now, he needed whatever rest he could catch, but the tenseness would not leave. Sleep was not restful. Lately, dreams of the past haunted him. Visions of what might have been plagued him like horrible nightmares. The ship gave a sudden lurch--that falling sensation. Kirk sat bolt up right, gripping the edge of the bed. That was no ordinary jolt. The red alert signal blared and in a split-second he was at the intercom. "Kirk to Bridge. Report." The comm screen lit. The tapered eyebrows, and pointed ears, the solemn features of the Vulcan science officer filled the screen. "Bridge, Spock here. We have encountered another anomaly, sir." "We've encountered several. Why the red alert?" "This anomaly is not stationary. It is now following us." "I'm on my way." Kirk hit the switch and was out the door. Red warnings flashed in the corridors, as crewmembers scurried to their posts. In moments, the turbo-lift deposited him at the bridge. "Status, Mr. Spock?" he asked, sliding into the now-vacated command chair. "No change, Captain," Spock replied, as he relieved Ensign Chekov at the science station. "It trails us at a distance of four point three hundred thousand kilometers." Chekov resumed his post at the navigation console next to helmsman Sulu, directly in front of Kirk. The Captain looked beyond them, at the main forward screen. Like an old fashioned patchwork quilt, the passing stars showed an irregular pattern, as if pieces of space had suddenly died. "Do we have visual on the anomaly?" "Aye, sir," Lieutenant Uhura said. The Bantu woman swiveled away from her communications station. "The area appears as a large triangular black void." The forward screen shifted as the magnification increased. In the center, a small black triangle spun on its axis. "The only reason it was detected as mobile was because it's emitting a sub-frequency cycled pattern with a constantly changing focus." Kirk frowned, and went to the science station. "What information do we have so far?" he asked quietly. Spock didn't look up from his viewer. "This anomaly appears to be a void field, a hole in space and possibly time." Kirk looked up sharply. "Time?" Spock straightened, facing the Captain. "Affirmative. The spectra readings show energy discharges that match the same wavelengths as the ripple-effect given off by the Guardian. Incoming information indicates the surrounding zone of space is considerably thinning. It's as if the cosmic energy of the immediate area is being siphoned off." "Enough to fray space itself?" "Affirmative," the Vulcan said. Kirk gave a low whistle. "Time energy. Could this be the cause of our problems?" "Unknown, Captain. I lack sufficient data to make any determination at present. What we do know is that wherever it travels, it weakens the fabric of space. A ship passing through this particular anomaly could prove disastrous." Kirk caught Sulu and Chekov exchanging worried glances. "And it's pacing us. Keep scanning, Spock. Lt. Uhura, keep an ear to that thing. I want to know of any changes, audio or otherwise." He went back to the command chair. Chin in hand, he leaned forward, staring at the object wavering against the moth-eaten backdrop of space. A dissonant chord stuck. He looked around the bridge at Spock, Uhura, Sulu and Chekov, the engineering techs, yeomen and the other personnel who seemed to drift in slow-motion. A whirling sensation of falling gripped him and he grabbed the arms of the command chair. An icy chill of deja' vu wrapped around his heart. No, this was not real. It couldn't be real. The vivid nightmare that had plagued him for the past week had become reality. Invisible tendrils reached for him, burning cold and deep into his mind, pulling at his very existence. Sight and sound coupled with the motions of the spinning triangle. He fought it, breaking the vision's hold. He drug a clammy palm down his face, sight centering on the screen. That--that thing was the demon of his dream. It had come for him. Uhura turned sharply from her communications board. "Captain, all subspace channels have suddenly gone blank. No sound, not even static." Suddenly the Enterprise lurched, people shiplashing forward as the ship bucked violently Warning lights snapped on as red alert resounded. Kirk clung to his command chair. "Helm, what's going on?" Sulu righted himself, eyes riveted on the helm control. "The field's velocity has increased. It's off starboard, and--" He looked into the viewer at the helm. "It's a tractor beam of some kind. A powerful one. The sensors--they're going crazy." The tremor evened out, lights coming back full. Kirk towered over the helmsman, seeing the chronometer and gauges spewing nonsense. A coldness crept up his backbone...just like in the dream. "Captain, we have a power surge from the void," Spock announced. Screens crackled with static and snowy interference. Tell-tale indicator lights impossibly winked on and off. Spock labored at the science station, trying to keep the boards alive. "Instruments are malfunctioning," he said. "What information I've obtained states this is not a tractor beam, but a mobius tube. The power is of such a magnitude that readings go off the scale. I'm attempting to--" Suddenly, his board erupted in showers of sparks and smoke. Crying out, Spock twisted away, falling to the deck. Kirk and Uhura were beside him, helping him back into his chair. "Spock?" he asked. Grimacing, Spock held his singed fingers. "I'm all right." "Keptin, navigation controls are not responding," Chekov said. "Field intensity is gaining and I'm registering a power drain. We're slowing down." The comm whistled from the command chair. "Scott to bridge." The Captain took the call at Uhura's board. "Kirk here." "Whatever tha' is bearin' down on us, Captain, it's disruptin' the engines. Magnetic fields bottlin' the antimatter are threatening ta' split. If that happens--" "Read you loud and clear, Mr. Scott. Helm, hard about. Put some distance between us and that thing." He went back to the command chair, standing in front of it. Mesmerized, he stared at the twirling geometric shape. Slowly his fists clenched. He couldn't fight it. He didn't know how. Sluggish, the Enterprise turned, but the black spinning shape loomed on the screen, gaining in size. "Mr. Sulu. Turn the ship. Get us out of here." "I'm trying, sir. She's not responding." Kirk hit the comm. "Engineering. We need full power." "I'm givin' ye all we got, Cap'n," Scott replied above Engineering's background commotion. "Do we have phasers?" Spock was back at his post. "Seventy-two percent and declining, Captain." Again the Enterprise shuddered, lights flickering as inertia damper strained under a sudden drop in speed. "Warp factor gone, Captain," Sulu said. "Best impulse speed, Sulu. Chekov, lock phasers on the heart of that beast. Wait for my order."
Chekov struggled with his console. "Manual lock in--ready, sir." Seconds ticked by as the thing drew closer. Kirk's eyes couldn't leave the screen. The hair prickled on the back of his neck. More dreams spun in that void. Black, hypnotic, magnetic. It filled the screen, blotting out the stars, blotting out all thought. He felt its presence. It was coming, reaching for him. His mouth opened, but the word 'fire' froze in his throat. Blackness wrapped around like a dark shroud. A metallic scream filled his ears as everything froze in mid-motion. Pain screamed through every nerve as the roots of his very existence were yanked from the soil of time. The black heart of limbo caged him and terror was unleashed in his soul. It was no dream He screamed, as the Enterprise exploded into a thousand pieces of rainbow-mirrored glass.
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Nothing in the universe can compare to an excellent meal. The Doctor entered the TARDIS' control room, taking his brown coat off the oaken coat tree. Pleased with himself, he thought he'd out done himself fixing Thymian treflis with all the trimmings. Sarah had certainly enjoyed it. He didn't have the heart to tell her what was in it. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her, he thought. "Snails," he said as he tugged on the garment. Casually, he glanced at the central column's navigation board. The spacial and time coordinates were locked in and this time he was confident the tt-capsule wouldn't fail. He smiled gently in a combination of relief and eagerness. This time--nothing would interfere. After finishing up with the Zygon affair and leaving Harry Sullivan with the Brigadier back at Loch Ness, he was ready for some peace and relaxation. He'd miss Harry, but welcomed the lessening of his burden. That was one less worry, but then there was Sarah Jane Smith. At that moment, his companion pushed through the inner doors. Her brown eyes sparkled with expectation. "Are we there yet?" With her dark brown hair pulled back in a loose pony-tail, she looked much younger than her twenty-four Earth years. The light blue slacks and short- sleeved print blouse indicated she was ready to do some serious research. At Memory Alpha, she'd have no shelves to climb. He decided to let her find that out when they arrived at the intergalactic literary bank. He flashed a toothy grin. "Not yet. A billion more miles and another century and I'll let you know." "Oh, come on, that's not fair," Sarah cajoled. "For just once, I wish you'd give me a straight answer." "If I'd known going to the library would stir you up like this, we'd have gone ages ago." "You forget, I'm a journalist. The written word is my trade." The Doctor regarded Sarah with mild amusement. "So true." He lifted an outrageously long multicolored scarf off the coat tree, draping the knitted material in a loose coil about his neck. "When you requested a nice quiet place, I immediately thought of Memory Alpha. It'll certainly be quiet." "With you, that would be a change." She sauntered around the console, stopping beside him. "It's about time we went somewhere where we can't get into any t-r-o-u-b-l-e." He suppressed a smile. Looking down at her, he cryptically asked, "Are you sure?" "Oh!" She gave him a light slap on the arm. "Don't do that to me." "Never know what you'll find amongst the dusty books and mountains of microtapes. Maybe we'll meet the great mote monster." He wriggled his fingers, mocking an ugly beastie. "Biggest dust ball of the gala--" Suddenly the TARDIS jolted hard, rocking like a ship in a storm. The Time Lord grabbed the console, barely keeping balance as Sarah latched onto him. The tremor passed, stability gradually returning. Wide-eyed, Sarah didn't move. Ever so slowly, she let go. "What was that?" "I don't know. But whatever it is, it doesn't do much for my stomach." A brief scan of the board showed the time capsule was working just fine. He flipped a couple of switches and frowned. "There's a disturbance in the time continuum." The audio-sensor light glowed brightly. Keying it on, a low toned signal chimed in a definite pattern. The definite melodic notes of A-B-C-D, repeated over and over. "Odd," he murmured. Curiosity and deep concern took hold and he tried to get a fix on the signals, but the sensors wouldn't focus. He leaned on the console with both hands, intently listening to the pattern. Sarah was also listening. "Malfunction?" "No. Everything is in working order, but--" "But what?" "Time phase won't focus." His seriousness intensified as the alarming statistics appeared. For once the TARDIS was right, it was time and space that was wrong--drastically wrong. According to the TARDIS, the dimensional interface was breaking down, letting other realities, other times mingle. "We're going to have to rematerialize and figure out what's going on here." Pulling down a lever, the Doctor heard the whine and groan of normal transition. Suddenly, reality fuzzed out. Shock shot through his bones as existence wobbled. The TARDIS strained against dimensional collapse, structure bending in like fun-house reflections. Sarah shrieked, hands covering her ears. Likewise, the Doctor cringed, teeth grating from the crushing pressure. He could barely see, barely stand. A violent force jarred the TARDIS, sending them flying backwards. Through his agony, the Doctor fought to reach the controls but the central column erupted in showers of stinging sparks and blinding smoke. An external explosion tilted everything into a spinning chaos of black terror.
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The blackness faded into grainy dark points that gradually disappeared. Spock found himself clutching the edge of the science console so tightly that there were cracks in the plastic. Straightening, he looked down at his hands. The burns were gone. He examined his science station console. It was in perfect working order, all except the chronometer. Swiveling around sharply, he realized Captain Kirk was gone. Recall flashed in pictures of black strobed with white, phasing in and out as an after image burned in his memory. A muted scream died as Jim Kirk faded into the dark nothingness. The Bridge crew started to revive. Uhura automatically started routing the intraship chatter; Sulu, Chekov, the engineering tech, and the other personnel; all of them seemed to pick up where they'd left off. Testing the sensors, he looked for the black triangle. Like Kirk, it too, had disappeared. "The unexplained power drain is gone, sir," Sulu turned from his post, doing a double take at Spock standing by the science station. "Sir, what are you doing there? Where's Number One?" Nonplussed, Spock regarded the helmsman. "Number one of what, Lieutenant?" When Sulu failed to answer, Chekov said, "Our science officer, sir." By now, everyone was staring at Spock. He stared back equally perplexed. The lift doors whooshed open and a tall, dark-haired woman of classic beauty entered, heading for the science station. She paused, impassively studying Spock. Momentarily taken aback, Spock looked at a face he hadn't seen in years. In a manner quite like his, the woman addressed Spock. "Captain, I am at a loss for an explanation. For reasons unknown, I found myself in sickbay." "Number One." Spock straightened, regaining his composure. "It appears a great deal has happened that lacks sufficient explanation." In a Spockian manner, her eyebrow rose. "Indeed, Captain." Spock hesitated, glancing down at his apparel. He still wore the blues of science services, but the gold braid on his sleeves were that of the rank of captain. "Yes, Number One. Please continue the sensor sweep I initiated," he said, going to the command chair. Sitting, he steepled his fingers and stared at the forward screen. His uniform wasn't the mystery. The ragged condition of space existed here as well. But the odd triangle and Jim Kirk were gone and no one seemed to notice. It was as though there had been a skip in time. Dregs of a coldness touched him. Theories of what transpired formed, but he would have to research it later, alone. "Damage reports coming in, Mister--Captain," Uhura said, removing her ear piece. "All minimal. Normal functions resuming." There was a note of uncertainty in the Bantu woman's voice. Spock glanced up, noting her bewildered expression. "Is something wrong, Lieutenant?" "It's--" She shook her head. "It's nothing, sir," she said softly, turning back to her station duties. "Nearing our destination," Chekov announced. "Standard procedure." Spock turned to communications. "Lt. Uhura, as soon as we have visual, deactivate the defense buoys." "Aye, sir." The intercom whistled, immediately followed by McCoy's gruff voice. "Sickbay to Bridge. Jim, what the hell's--" The Vulcan cut him off. "Dr. McCoy, this is Spock. Your report, please." There was a brief silence. Finally, he said, "Spock? Where's--" "Doctor, your report. Were there any casualties?" "No...no casualties. But I'd like to see you in Sickbay. Right now." So, he wasn't alone. Spock rose, heading for the turbo lift. "Number One, please take the conn." Uhura swung around. "Sir, request permission to report to Sickbay." Spock saw the unspoken plea in her eyes and finally nodded. "Permission granted. Accompany me, Lieutenant." She followed immediately behind him. As soon as the lift doors closed, she opened up. "Mr. Spock, what's happened? Where's Captain Kirk and who is that woman at your post?" "Sickbay," Spock ordered and the car started moving. He leveled a placid gaze at Uhura. "The answers to your first and second question, I regret I do not know. There are several theories that need to be explored. As to your third question, that woman is called Number One. She was serving as First Officer when I first came aboard the Enterprise," he paused, then finally added, "many years ago." "That anomaly did this." "That is one possibility," Spock said. "We could be in an alternate time or another universe altogether." "Like in that mirror universe?" Spock nodded. "Until I can gather more information, I deem it best that we play along." The lift stopped, depositing them by Sickbay. Spock led the way into the Chief Medical Officer's office. A worried McCoy greeted them, pausing when he saw the communications officer. "Uhura?" She gave a weak smile. "I'm fine, Doctor. Confused, but fine." "Well, you're not alone." McCoy gravitated toward Spock. "What's going on? One minute I'm working with Nurse Chapel, then boom--she's gone and that walking ice cube is in her place. Now, I can't find Christine anywhere. Even her records are gone. It's like she never existed." Spock eyed the computer terminal on McCoy's desk. "Never existed. Interesting. May I examine the medical files, Doctor?" "Medical files?" McCoy scowled. "Why?" "Leonard," Uhura said. "The Captain is missing too." Stunned, McCoy looked from Uhura to Spock. "Gone? Like Christine." Spock took the chair and worked at the terminal. Uhura and McCoy hovered close by as he requested information on one James Tiberius Kirk. Soon, data appeared on the screen. Uhura gasped. "Oh, dear God," McCoy breathed. A file marker flashed--deceased. Spock briefly lowered his eyes before continuing. Scrolling, it revealed that Kirk had been killed in action on Tycho IV along with Captain Garrovick and half the crew of the USS Farragut. Silentl, Spock turned off the viewer. "But--but," McCoy spluttered. "That's not right. We know that's not true." "Do we?" Spock asked. "Speculation was that the anomalies were perforations allowing other existences to protrude into our continuum. Who's to say which universe is the true reality. Anything is possible." Uhura tapped the top of the computer terminal. "Then these anomalies could also be doorways into those alternate times and the Captain is trapped in one of them." "Or we could be experiencing a type of time slippage or a mixture of both. The last I had heard, Number One was a captain, with a command of her own. The fact that here and now I am Captain of the Enterprise and Number One is First Officer leads me to believe this hypothesis is most likely the correct one. "Well, that's fine and dandy." Arms crossed, McCoy leaned against the computer. "So why, out of 430 people, do we remember otherwise? How do you explain that? And how do we get Jim back?"" "At this time, I do not know. It would be interesting to explore these theories, but our energies must be directed at solving our current problem, namely, finding the cause of the anomalies." "And correcting the errors," McCoy said, thoughtfully rubbing his jaw. "Shades of Edith Keeler." At that moment, a tremor shook the Enterprise. "If there are any errors to correct, Dr. McCoy," Spock said.
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Smoke rose from all the panels on the central column, the stench of burning circuits filling the TARDIS control room. In the dim emergency lighting, a shaky hand gripped the console edge, and the Doctor pulled himself up from the floor. Leaning a moment to collect his wits, he raked back locks of curly brown hair from his forehead. Numbly, he looked at the damaged boards. A whitish film coated the clear cylinder of the time rotor. Black smudges and imploded dials dotted the controls. And there was a saturating silence. The time machine's familiar life hum was gone. His beloved TARDIS was dead. "No," he whispered. Smoke stung his eyes and lungs. "This is impossible. The TARDIS--" Desperately he flicked switches and turned dials getting no response. Simple dematerialization. Coming out of vortex, they had been the only ones in this vicinity, but the TARDIS had hit something and hit it hard. Clutching the console tightly, he abruptly straightened. "Sarah?" he croaked, dazedly looking around. She'd been right beside him before this happened. "Sarah!" Coughing, he stumbled uncertainly through the haze, bumping into a soft, but solid object on the floor. Immediately he knelt beside his companion, felt for a pulse, and to his relief found one. "Sarah, this is no time for a nap. We've got troubles." Gently he lifted her, propping her against the rondeled wall. Immediately she sagged back into his arms. "Sarah," he called softly, lightly patting her cheek. "Come on old girl. Snap out of it." "Harry," she mumbled, coming around. She coughed. "Call me that...one more time...." Her eyes opened, and she pushed away, blearily blinking up at him. "Doctor?" He grinned. "Knew that'd bring you around." As easily, his smile vanished. "Are you all right?" "Yes, I think so." Hand to her head, she leaned forward. "Ohh--cracked my skull a good one." She looked sharply about. "Good Lord, the TARDIS! What happened?" A sparking-snapping noise sounded as the ventilation system kicked on, briefly dimming the emergency lights. In all seriousness, the Doctor said, "I don't know," and went back to the central column. "You didn't tell me that going to Memory Alpha would be this difficult." "It isn't. We aren't there. We hit something and believe me, it wasn't small." He moved around the hexagonal column, testing systems. They were on batteries and that wasn't enough power to show what damage had been done. Sarah stood, leaning against the wall for support. "Is it bad?" "Oh, it could be worse." But not by much, he thought. Getting his long scarf out of the way, he again tried to coax a response, any response from the machine. Still there was nothing. Not even a sputter. He stood back, scratching his head as he stared at the immobile rotor. He had to think. Sarah gently tapped his elbow. "Can we fix it?" He gave her a quick smile. "Oh, anything can be fixed." But the more he looked at the board, the more his doubts rose. Things were bad, but there no reason to upset Sarah any further until he was absolutely sure the TARDIS was beyond repair. Unfortunately, he was already half way to that conclusion. He pressed the viewer switch. There was a click, but as expected, no response. Frustrated, he pounded a fist on the console. A zap-crackle sounded and the sensor screen flickered into a broken pattern that weaved in and out of focus, showing the last coordinate reading. He froze, recognizing the numbers as they completely faded. "Of all the nerve!" "What? What is it?" "They've done it again," he seethed, grabbing a hand crank from storage, and inserting it into a slot by the main doors. "Those meddling idiots! Ruin my TARDIS, will they?" Vigorously, he cranked. "Well, they won't get away with this one." The TARDIS doors slowly opened wide enough for him to get through. "This time I'll speak my mind to their faces." "Who are you talking about?" Sarah asked in exasperation. "The Time Lords!" He threw down the tool and stormed out of the tt-capsule. "Doctor! Wait!" Sarah called, stumbling after him. The Time Lord stood stock still just outside the doorway, looking at cold gray desolate ruins. His anger melted into bewilderment. This wasn't right. This couldn't be the planet indicated on the screen. His companion hurried out of the craft, nearly smacking into him. "Doctor," she breathed. "Will you please tell me what's happened?" At that moment, he wished he knew. He shook his head, rejecting the sight in front of him. "This can't be," he said softly. "But the coordinates--" He glanced at the night sky. "The constellations are right." Alarm sent a chill down his back. He moved out, navigating amongst the broken columns and walls, Sarah at his heels. This should be a city, alive with humdrum duties he'd run away from centuries ago. But there was no life. Nothing. A soft melancholy howl blew through the jagged remains. He closed in on the remnants of a vast building. Perhaps he'd made a mistake. Perhaps this wasn't what he thought. "Doctor," Sarah huffed breathlessly. Stepping through the skeleton of a doorway, he scanned briefly, then strode over to the far wall. Feeling along the stone, he hit a ripple of indentations. Immediately, he wiped away a thick coat of dust and dirt, and a flowery, circular pattern emerged. His shoulders sagged slightly, hand going to his mouth. To anyone else the marking would be meaningless. To him, it confirmed his fears. "Patrexes." "Pat-whatsies?" "Patrexes...a chapter of the Time Lords." He stood back, brushing the grit off his hands. "This would be vault level." "Vault level of what?" Sarah asked, quite exasperated. "The Panopticon," he snapped. "This is Gallifrey." Sarah's mouth dropped open. "Gallifrey?" "Yes, Gallifrey," he said sharply. "Are you hard of hearing?" He turned, heading back the way they came. "No," Sarah retorted, and followed. "But if you wouldn't hold one sided conversations things would be clearer. Besides, I think your taking this awfully well. If I found my home world in ruins, I'd be plenty upset." He stopped short and shot an angry glance at his companion. "Getting upset won't help me figure out what happened." He jammed his hands into his coat pockets and stared at the powdery ground. He was upset. How could anything like this have happened without his knowing it? From the look of things, this had happened a long time ago. The ruins were eroded by weather and great age. He blinked, realizing that couldn't be right either. If something had happened to the Time Lords so long ago, he wouldn't be standing here--would he? An odd feeling--a brief vibration touched his mind. As quickly as it drew his attention, it faded. "Doctor?" Sarah touched his arm. "Are you all right?" "No. Something is very wrong here," he said. "Let's get back to the TARDIS. Maybe she can tell us something." If she can, he mentally added, and continued leading the way. Silently, they trudged back to the disabled tt-capsule. He listened to the mournful wind, heard Sarah's light footsteps behind him. How was he going to tell his companion they were stranded on a dead planet. The cold wind gusted, blowing grit and dust. Suddenly, icy fingers closed about his neck. A sense of urgency, a sense of dread clamped down, and he whirled as though he'd seen a ghost. "I don't like that look on your face," Sarah said. "I don't like the feel of it either." "What is it?" she asked softly. "Someone--something still here. Still alive," he whispered, moving like a hound on the trail of a fox. "Oh, wonderful," Sarah moaned, hurrying to keep up with him.
Over rocks and crumbling masonry he went, until they came to a clearing. Careful to stay hidden, the Doctor peeked around a rocky outcropping. Sarah pushed close to get a look as well. Against a background of broken walls and columns, a huge oval of thick rock and metal pulsed brightly. "Looks like an over-grown, lop-sided bagel," Sarah whispered. It certainly wasn't a bagel. It was alive with temporal energy and something more. The thing pulsed faster as the Doctor concentrated on it. Again the coldness touched him in a muted emotional plea and he shivered.
"Doctor?" "It's the source of the telepathic call I received," he said, sotto voce. "Telepathic? You mean it's alive?" "Yes...and no." As he looked at it, recognition sparked. It had to be, it was the only explanation. "Sarah, I'm not sure, but I think were running out of time." He patted her arm. "Stay here," he ordered, edging back. "But--" Sarah twisted around as he stepped into the open. Cautiously, the Doctor approached the object of interest, and a low hum filled the area. The pulses quickened with his every step, until all he could see was a solid neon blue.
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The red alert signal flashed, klaxon blaring as Spock, Uhura and Dr. McCoy entered the bridge. Like a changing of the guard, no unnecessary words were spoken as everyone resumed their proper posts. "Situation, Number One," Spock asked, sliding into the command chair. He glanced briefly at McCoy, who stood in his usual spot behind the command chair. The physician was staring at the dark-haired woman. "The facts are few Captain," she said. "But it's a definite violation of quarantine." On the forward screen, a dusty gray-brown world loomed larger and larger: the planet of the Guardian of Forever. The gateway to the past, any past. Spock knew that mysterious planet from his own experience. Briefly, he wondered what had transpired in this reality since James Kirk had not existed. "Defense Buoy Beta is completely destroyed." Number One bent closer, eyes staying on the scanners. "Sensors show only debris from the satellite." Her hand moved deftly across the science board. "Spacial density is thin but stable. Time displacement still partially contained." A slight tremor again jarred the ship. Impassive, she looked at McCoy. "I trust you have no cordrazine with you, Doctor." "Signal transmitted, Captain," Uhura said from the communications station. "Alpha, Gamma and Delta buoys are shut down." She turned halfway around, reaching for a switch. "We are free to assume orbit." "Standard orbit, Mr. Sulu," Spock said. Possibly this ploy might work. Starfleet had sent them to request aid from the the Guardian. Through it they might find out what was happening to the universe. Spock started to rise, when suddenly the Enterprise shuddered, and he fell back into the command chair. People hung on, riding out the ripple in time. Systems flashed red warnings, and the natter of the intraship talk increased. "The time displacement, Captain," Number One said. "Once the barrier lowered, it would reach beyond the buoy perimeter." "Have you determined the cause of Beta's destruction?" "Negative, sir. Scanners are on full range," she replied. "Navigation fields clearing," Chekov said, his eyes never leaving the computer boards. "No asteroid matter, no evidence of weapon fire, no sign of any other ship." "Nothing out of the ordinary," Number One commented. "If an object made contact with the buoy, there should be debris other than what our sensors show." "Assuming orbit, Captain," Sulu reported, looking into the goose-neck viewer at the helm. "Looks quiet on the planet surface, sir." He paused, adjusting the focus-sensor. "Hold. I take that back. Captain, I'm picking up a reading. An object of incredible density. Sensors register conflicting data on the unidentifiable mass." Number One looked up. "And two life forms. One human." Spock allowed no reaction. Outside interference had not occurred to him. If someone had inadvertently gone through the portal, it would explain everything. And any more outside contamination could only further complicate matters. "Number One, you have command." He rose, heading for the turbo-lift. "Dr. McCoy and Lt. Uhura will accompany me as a preliminary scouting detail. Have security standing by to beam down, but only upon my order." "Preliminary?" Number One's head tilted slightly. "Begging the Captain's pardon, isn't that rather unprecedented in a situation such as this?" Spock faced his old comrade. "Captain's discretion, science officer." The lift appeared and he, McCoy and Uhura disappeared behind the closing doors.
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The Doctor stared mesmerized by the Matrix. Somehow the great Time Lord brain bank had survived the holocaust, evolved to this entity. The eye of Harmony must still be intact or this thing wouldn't be functioning. He could feel the turmoil--the emotion radiating from it. But something was keeping it mute, blocking the concepts it tried to convey. Without thinking, he reached for the pitted stone. "Doctor, don't," Sarah called, rushing from her hiding place amongst the broken masonry. The spell broken, the Doctor yanked his hand back. "I thought I told you to stay put," he said gruffly. "You did," she breathed, looking up at him. "But I...I don't know how to explain it, but I sense something terrible here. Something dreadful." "Terrible?" He looked from Sarah to the still pulsing oval. "Dreadful? How about disastrous?" He knew the Matrix could tell him what had happened here on Gallifrey. Touch was the only way, and it had practically commanded him to moments ago. He also knew that to commune with the Matrix unprepared was a painful thing. Squaring his shoulders, he readied himself. "Sarah, get back to the rocks." "No!" "Don't be stupid," he barked. "This isn't a game. This could be very dangerous." Looking hurt, Sarah slowly stepped back. "I'm not playing a game." "Neither am I. Now go on," he said, then softly added, "Please." Reluctantly, she backed away, and he focused on the Matrix. Mentally bracing himself, he reached for the curved stone. Sarah's scream spun him around. In a high-pitched harmonic, three columns of sparkling light appeared. Three humanoid shapes formed, solidifying. Two males and a female stood before him and Sarah. Their clothes were of a military style, and what appeared to be recording devices were at their sides. A pretty, dark haired, dark skinned woman wore a red dress version of the men's blue shirts. The brown haired, blue eyed caucasian male was tall and thin, and he carried a black pouch at his waist. He didn't look like the fighting-type, but then looks could be deceiving. Surprise deepened when the Doctor saw the stoic features of a Vulcan. The tapered eyebrows, pointed ears, and lean musculature didn't pinpoint the humanoid's planet of origin, but his lack of emotional expression did. Each wore a golden parabolic insignia over the left breast. But it was what they were holding that caught his attention the most. Weapons--quite sophisticated ones at that, and they were pointed at him and Sarah. "Stay where you are." The Vulcan cautiously approached. "Certainly," the Doctor replied with a grin. "We've nowhere to go, nor any means to get there." Sarah gaped at the intruders. "You speak English," she said. "Fluently," the dark-skinned woman replied. "I see you do too, but more of a British dialect." The Doctor stepped away from the Matrix and grabbed the Vulcan's unoccupied hand, shaking it vigorously. "Why, that's excellent!" Telepathic touch through physical contact told the Time Lord everything down to the unprepared Vulcan's surprise. "So do we, so we won't have to use that awful interlang," he said with a grin. "Tongue always trips over that language. Anyway, I'm the Doctor and this is my assistant, Sarah Jane Smith. We're travelers and we've sort of taken a mystery tour. I see your trip was no better than ours." Astonished, the Vulcan pulled back. McCoy was at the Vulcan's side. "Spock, what's wrong? Are you all right?" "I'm--quite all right, Dr. McCoy. I was merely caught off guard." Spock lowered his phaser. Impassively, he regarded the Time Lord. "Mind touch works in both directions, Doctor. Lt. Uhura, contact the Enterprise. Advise them that the situation, got the moment, is under control." Hands in his pockets, the Doctor returned the look. "I do apologize for the abruptness, but I had to be sure who you were. I see your time line is a mess as well." Spock gave a barely perceptible nod. Sarah did a double take at the Doctor. "Time lines? What are you talking about?" "All this," the Doctor said with a sweeping gesture. "The readings I got in the TARDIS. Gallifrey in ruins. Their Captain is missing from their time line. Time anomalies are popping up all across the entire cosmos." He stopped short. "Good grief, I should've recognized the symptoms. Every Time Lord's nightmare is becoming reality." "Are you sure we all speak English?" McCoy asked Spock. "The Doctor is from a race of time travelers that once inhabited this planet," Spock said. "His race built the Guardian. He is called a Time Lord and is a talented touch telepath, I might add. He is confirming what we have already suspected. Time is collapsing. Entropy is destroying our universe." An unspoken horror carried in the mournful call of the wind as realization sank into them all. "Entropy?" Sarah whispered. "Earth, too?" "Everything, Sarah," the Doctor said softly. "Is there any way the damage can be undone?" Spock asked. "I'm not certain," the Doctor said. "From what I can gather, this has been going on quite a while, working from the future down to the past and it's just now reaching us." Behind him, blue static crackled from the Matrix. "Gallifrey must be the focal point. It has to be. I was just about to ask the Matrix--" A metallic wail issued from behind and everyone turned. The oval shimmered. Power coalesced, the center a blur with scrambled pictures running in high-speed reverse. Incredulous, the Doctor saw a massive explosion, a bloody war, a civil upheaval. An out-of-focus face formed, black-haired, dark eyes, sinister. He squinted, shielding his eyes from the brilliance, straining to get a better look. He knew that face from somewhere. Pitch crested, light exploding with terrifying force from the Matrix. The Doctor cringed, shielding his face. Neon blue rays reached out, a harsh wind swirled mists as cold as death that spiraled down into the stone ring's center. It grew, winds flowing in a malestrom of power that pulled at everyone and everything. Dust and dirt stung his face and eyes. His brown floppy hat sailed off in the current, disappearing in the storm of color and sound. Wind beat at his hair, tore at his clothes as the powerful suction dragged him closer and closer to the maw. Shouts were drown out as he twisted around, reaching for anything. He grabbed onto a broken column, holding on for dear life, struggling against the powerful whirlpool. The humans--he couldn't help them! The battering wind drove them toward the mouth of the portal. Sarah clung to Spock. McCoy and Uhura struggled, scrabbling uselessly at the rocks, their voices smothered by the howling fury. The hurricane pushed harder and harder, sucking the breath from his lungs. Gasping, the Doctor felt his fingers slipping. Fingernails raked across chiseled stone. His anchor lost, he spun backwards, hitting the pitted stone, hands clawing the solid rock surface. Contact. Blue lightning shot through him, cutting off a scream. He twisted, arching, the forces of time pulling him in three directions at once. Rainbow colored specters solidified in the blue-gold soft glow enveloping the Time Lord. The sky cracked red. In a burst of pain, the shadow-forms separated. He let go and was sucked into the dark heart of the time vortex.
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Shadows veiled the moderate-sized circular room, various lights cutting bright shifting patterns in rhythm with soft hums and hardware clicks. The scopes and sophisticated computer monitors were definitely anachronistic to the building's architecture. A lone figure rose tall, standing before a central console. From this strategic point, the Warlord could see any area of his fortress. Complete surveillance was just a touch away. His purplish-pink robes whispered softly as he walked the line of databanks, touching each board in an almost caress. His pride swelled. He marveled at what he'd achieved in so short a time, and the carnage had been worth it. The blood of Karn would buy a better universe. Stopping at a circular screen, he smiled, admiring his reflection. The high forehead, aristocratic nose, and angular planes--this was the face of an emperor. Most of all, he admired his eyes, so piercing, so dark. Obsidian. Sacrificing one regeneration had definitely been worth the trouble. Pressing a switch, he activated the scope, its screen slowly coming into focus. The scene was of a group of richly robed people seated in conference. They were quite animate, hotly debating an issue. He didn't need to be psychic to know the topic--he could recite it in his sleep. Interference versus non-interference. The question of Karn was before them and he knew Gallifreyan policy. After all, he had once been a powerful Cardinal in that elite clique. But he was free of them now--free of their mealy mouthed preachings and spineless pacificism. He would accomplish what Rassilon had divined for his people. Someone had to take care of the wretched souls of this universe, and he knew no one but himself could handle such a task. As he looked at the scope he pitied the fools at the council table. That decrepit harpy Maren thought to seek help from these cowards and he knew they would turn her and her Sisterhood down. A pleased feeling radiated through him, and he smiled. Denying help to the old witch would seal their fate and that of Karn. Poor little Time Lords, he thought. Can't see beyond your own tiny world. He turned a dial, refocusing on a desolate wasteland of Gallifrey. Things were progressing as planned. The recall had gone out and the troops were retreating. Soon his army would be transferred to Karn and the foundation for the universe would set on this tiny pebble of the world. Rassilon's time scoop had proven an invaluable device. Not only had it provided a rapid mode of transportation, it also gave his hoards of time a perfect point of entry, and excellent covered base--the Death Zone. The next step was almost ready to be taken. Behind him, the door opened. A fresh-faced soldier came to attention. "News, m'lord. Karn is completely ours, except for the Sisterhood and they hide deep within their temple. A squad is being readied now." "My order still stands--certain precautions must be taken. Slaughter any but the old hag who leads the coven. Reiterate the promise. The one who brings Maren in alive will have unlimited share of the Elixir of Life." He turned back to the monitor. "It will be done, m'lord." The young man hesitated. "M'lord, there is also a matter that has been transmitted from Gallifrey." "What is it?" "The tactician from era twenty-three was found missing from his quarters two cycles after curfew. Evidence indicates he is heading for the Citadel." The Warlord's jaw set. "He must be stopped. Do you understand? I'll not have this entire operation jeopardized because of one man's stupidity." "There is a team in pursuit." "As soon as the deserter is assassinated, I want the imbecile who allowed this to happen to be punished--maximum penalty. And I want both heads sent to me as proof." "Yes, m'lord." The soldier bowed, turned and exited. The Warlord's fists clenched in white-knuckled anger. Too much was at stake. He had arranged the death of Morbius on that TARDIS pad, had lost one of his lives because it, and was too close to his goal to lose everything because of a deserter. He wrenched the time scope focus back to the High Council and his nails dug deeper into his palms. Anger evolved to hatred as he glared at the screen. "Block my cause, will you? Can't you see I'm right?" he hissed as if they could hear him. "You worthless pack of parasites! You mocked me, betrayed me. You'll deserve your lot." He hit the switch with such force, the scope wobbled as the picture faded. In a flashing sweep, he exited the control center.
###
Two pale white moons stared down like prying eyes, bathing the war-torn terrain of Gallifrey in milky light. A grubby James Kirk darted for a partially wrecked building. Once inside, he pressed against the wall and listened. Only the nocturnal creatures sounded, chirruping and whirring their weird night songs. With a sigh, he let himself relax a little. That smuggled message had to have reached the citadel. He couldn't afford to waste this trip. Back at camp, he knew by now they'd discovered him AWOL, and they'd come hunting for his head. He knew too much. Beams from the partially fallen ceiling formed a dark niche. He slipped inside. The tang of ozone from discharged energy weapons and the smell of burnt flesh still permeated the cold night air. This was where he had told the Time Lords to meet him. And as much as he hated it, this is where he had to wait. He'd endured three months in this hell hole, and he prayed it wouldn't be much longer. He crouched down, fighting a saturating weariness. Had it been three months? If Spock were here, he'd give an exact count of the days, all the way down to the seconds. But Spock wasn't here. Emotion welled up inside and once more he shoved the grief away. Any distraction could cost him dearly. He set the staser beside him. Closing his eyes, he let his head rest against the chipped stone, wishing for that cup of coffee in his cabin, for the Enterprise. He rubbed hard at his eyes, fighting the sting of tears. This time, the memories would not be denied. The Enterprise was nothing but a shattered ghost. All the horrors he'd witnessed in the Death Zone couldn't drown the one nightmare he'd carried since arriving in this God-forsaken place. Even awake, he'd relived the dream, watching it unfold again and again. The deck fell from beneath his feet. Icy fingers of cold pain caged him, yanking him from the bridge, four hundred and thirty screams filling a backdrop of a thousand realities. Blue lightning cracked bloody heavens, engulfing a silver woman. She writhed, her agony visible in the very fiber of his being as his fists smashed against solid black. Silence devoured his scream as she exploded. Glittering fragments spun outward in showers of glowing crystal, disintegrating into nonexistence. His future, his world, his friends no longer existed. A 'scrunch' sound brought him fully alert. Chills mixed with the dream horror-memory. That was not the signal. Grabbing the staser, he moved from his hiding place and melded with the darkness. Staser at ready, he pressed against the wall by the door. Anger balled up inside him. He must survive, must reach the Citadel to warn the Council. He couldn't save his ship, or his friends. He'd be damned if he'd let an entire planet die. Not while he could take action to stop it. The 'scrunch' sounded again, and a long shadow fell through the doorway. The silhouette was female and she was holding a weapon. Cautiously, she entered. His hand chopped down, slamming the weapon away. In a flurry of motion, they grappled. Sharp-tipped fingernails dug into his arm with surprising force, biting a nerve-point, and she twisted free. The staser dropped from his useless hand. An uppercut caught his chin, knocking him back. He stumbled, catching himself in time to see the wildcat leap. He dropped and she overshot him, hitting the floor. He pounced, twisted her around, hand gripping her neck for the kill, and she yielded. Shock and disbelief stopped him as he looked into two wide brown eyes. "Uhura!" "Captain!" The surprise in her voice matched his. "Oh, dear God! Captain Kirk! We thought you were dead." "Uhura..." he whispered, gripping her arms tightly, as if he were afraid she'd disappear. "How--how did you get here?" he asked, overwhelmed with relief and joy. "It's hard to explain. What happened is all so strange." "The Enterprise? Is she here? Did you--?" Hope died when she looked away "I don't know, sir," she said softly, then told him about the altered Enterprise, about how she, Spock and McCoy had met the Doctor and his companion, and all that had been said. "...and that's the last I saw them. I woke up alone. The tricorder picked up your reading. I didn't know the life-form was you, but I'm damn glad it was." "You don't know how glad I am to see you. He sobered. "You came through, so Spock and McCoy must have too. They've got to be here. And we'll find them." "But where is here?" "Gallifrey." "Gallifrey?" Incredulous, she looked around. "We're on the planet of the Guardian as it was." Jim Kirk scowled. "Planet of the Guardian? As it was? As in the past?" "Yes. That's the name the Doctor used. Mr. Spock said his race, the Time Lords, built the Guardian." "That's impossible. The planet of the Guardian is a cold cinder." "Not in the past, sir." He considered her words. Slowly, he sat back on his haunches. "You're right." Understanding dawned as he thought of the planet as he knew it. "We're dealing with time. History. All this is beginning to make a crazy kind of sense." "I'm glad someone understands." "We're in the middle of a hot spot." He took a deep breath. "The Gallifreyans are in the midst of a civil war. This planet is about to be destroyed, and somehow it's tied in with the creation of the Guardian. Or lack of it." "But we know the Guardian exists." "Do we?" he asked. "We're playing with time, which I've come to learn is a very solid, yet fragile, thing." "As I've seen. But why did you say the 'lack' of?" "Because I'm en route to the Time Lord Citadel." He picked up Uhura's phaser, checked it over. Handing it to her, he said, "I've got to warn the High Council about the Warlord, to prevent the disaster awaiting these people. Doing so, might prevent the creation of the Guardian." Uhura looked up sharply. "But that would be changing history." "I know." "But the time theory studies I've read stated that it's impossible to change history." "At this point, our history hasn't occurred yet. And I for one can't sit around and let an innocent populace die at the hands of some madman." He signalled for silence, and listened. The night was quiet as an open grave. He scowled. "Still no sign from the Time Lords. I can't wait for them any longer. We've got to get moving or we'll be dead Selarian duck-bats." Kirk retrieved his staser and headed for the crumbling doorway. "I'll tell what I've learned as we go." Cautiously, he peered out the door. A nearby clump of woods stood dark, like gnarled goblins reaching down with knobby branched hands. "Give me a tricorder reading." Uhura held out the device, and after a moment said, "Shows all clear." "Good. Let's go." They crept through the moon shadow cast by the jagged wall. Kirk's spirits had been lifted by Uhura's appearance. Now if only Spock and McCoy would appear, it would solve several problems. But his worry for his friends would have to take second place. Getting to the Citadel and the Time Lords was their top priority. He was going on a hunch--a guess that might very well destroy his future. He paused at the corner. Nothing but cold eerie silence encompassed them. A twinge hit his middle. Something was wrong--missing. There were no nocturnal sounds. Of course! They wouldn't register. He shoved Uhura back. "Go," he said in a hoarse whisper. "Run!" The black bushes shook violently. Hoards of green-eyed shadow creatures shrieked, rising up like the dead come to life, swarming after them. Kirk leapt, knocking Uhura to the rocky ground as lethal beams sang red hot in the above air. Cold sweat covered him. Maynark phantoms--an extermination team. They didn't have a prayer. Suddenly a hoarse cry split the din. Kirk dared to look as bright light flooded the area. The phantoms turned from the primary target, screeching in agony, disintegrating in the brilliant heat. A humid stench, like that of burnt oil filled Kirk's nostrils. After what seemed a lifetime, the silence came back. "Are you all right?" he asked. Sitting, Uhura brushed dirt off her uniform. "I'm fine, sir." Her expression went flat. "But we still have company." He looked around. Torches set on low, several citadel soldiers surrounded them, stasers leveled. The leader, a tall blond man stepped forward. "You are now prisoners of war." "Wait!" Kirk rose, giving Uhura a hand. "I'm the one who sent word to your Council that--" "Silence!" the man snarled, jabbing a staser at them. "Hands on your heads, rebels." They complied as two underlings searched them, taking the weapons. "All clear, Captain Alleran," the soldier said. "Excellent. Now, you two--move!" Kirk and Uhura moved before a line of staser muzzles. Kirk inwardly sighed, knowing it was going to be a long walk to Citadel.
###
Spock reeled, plunging downward faster and faster. Red blindness streaked with yellow and black as he collided against solid matter. Sharp pain radiated through his left shoulder, the pain bringing him back to reality. He lay there attempting to regain the breath that was knocked from his lungs. Warm sun and air as dry as the atmosphere of Vulcan registered. Willing the dizziness away, he sat up, trying to get his bearings. Unfamiliar terrain hazed into focus. He'd landed in an alley littered with broken masonry and metal debris. Shattered and burnt buildings lined the narrow passage and the smell of war was unmistakable. Painfully, he rose, immediately subduing the throb in his bruised shoulder. An arid breeze pushed dust and paper across scarred pavement. The place appeared as bleak as it did abandoned. Pulling out his tricorder, he scanned the area. Nothing. No sign of McCoy or Uhura, the Time Lord, or Ms. Smith. Like Captain Kirk, they had vanished. He was alone. The gauge flickered as he completed the 360 degree sweep. He stopped, aiming at mound of crumbled concrete and rusted steel across the alley. Peculiar energy emanations played havoc with the device. A life-form reading was trying to register but it was as if the being was phasing in and out of existence. A moan drifted from behind the pile of rock. Cautious, he investigated. White tennis shoes lead to the flesh toned legs of a human woman. Sarah Jane Smith was lying face down in the gutter. Kneeling, he helped the dazed woman to sit. "Miss Smith, are you injured?" She winced, rubbing the side of her head. "I--I'm all right." She paused, visibly fighting a vertigo that made her sway. "I think. Ohh. That's the second time I've done that today." She frowned as she took in the surroundings. "What happened? Mr. Spock, where are we? Where are the others?" "I do not know," he replied, a bit grimmer than he'd intended. Indeed, what had happened? He remembered the terrible visions of the vortex. What he'd seen was only talked about in theory. Order was disintegrating, logic collapsing into chaos. He had seen the end of time. "Mr. Spock?" Trance broken, he said, "Yes, Miss Smith?" "A penny for your thoughts," Sarah said with a nervous laugh. Spock inclined his head slightly. "I do not require remuneration for my thoughts, Miss Smith." Sarah's eyebrows rose as the Vulcan helped her stand. "It is evident we've been sent back through time," he said. "Where, I am not sure, but since the future is being destroyed by the entropy, it's logical to assume we are in the past. First order, we must find out our exact location and the current events." Scanning with the tricorder, he started down the street. Hands on her hips, Sarah scowled. "Why not ask a policeman?" Spock continued walking. "That would be difficult. According to my tricorder, there are no living beings within one point zero three kilometers." "I can see that. I was just kidding." Without looking up, Spock mildly replied, "Humans. Why is it that in serious situations you resort to sarcastic humor? It is an illogical emotional reaction that wastes needed mental energy." Sarah stopped, obviously taken aback. Anger colored her cheeks. "I can see you going to be a real barrel of laughs." Spock continued scanning, deciding her statement did not merit a reply. The sound of falling masonry brought him to a halt. Aiming the tricorder at a nearby war-damaged structure, he studied the readings as they flickered. "What's wrong?" Sarah asked. "Life-form readings, again. It's not like when you appeared." He waited until the gauge indicator stabilized. "Definitely not human." "Could it be the Doctor?" Sarah asked. "It could be, but the patterns vary slightly." He pulled his phaser. "In any case, it is living and may have some answers to our questions." He set off for the devastated structure. With extreme caution, Spock and Sarah entered the building. The transition from bright sun to semi-darkness was momentary for Spock. Spots of light filtered through broken windows and holes in the roof, dappling the debris-cluttered floor. The scraping noise sounded again. Spock clearly indicated to Sarah to stay put, which quickly earned him an indignant scowl. Walking softly, he made his way to an inner room. He stood statue-still at the entrance, listening, trying to sense what was in room he was about to enter. But there was no feeling, no sensing of another mind in that room. Maybe it had been a sensor ghost. Maybe the noise had been nothing but rotted plaster falling to the floor. He stepped through, barely seeing the blur of black. Pain cracked across his hand, and his phaser skidded across the floor. He twisted, barely avoiding a series of rapid blows. The creature was large and fast, humanoid. In reflex, he caught the creature's arm, its steel strength matching his own. Twisting hard, his foot caught behind the creature's leg. It reeled backward, landing hard on its backside. Spock reached for the vulnerable point on its neck, and it sprang up, a double fist smashed into his chin. A steel grip twisted Spock up and over in a judo-like throw. The Vulcan crashed to the floor, pain stabbing his injured shoulder. Rolling over, he saw a tall man crouch defensively, watching, waiting for the next move. His opponent's black cape hung open, a flash of green velvet and white ruffles revealing somewhat odd but formal attire underneath. The humanoid's snowy gray hair fell in a disheveled mop and ice blue eyes pierced the Vulcan. As Spock stared him down, a strange feeling of familiarity came to him. "What have you done to me?" the stranger said, out of breath. "Why have you brought me here?" Spock's gaze briefly diverted to a silhouette appeared in the doorway. A cat-like, Sarah Jane crept up from behind, raising a two-by-four high above her head. "I haven't done anything to you, sir." Spock carefully got to his knees, rubbing his sore shoulder. "I'm lost, and was seeking information." The man looked incredulous, suspicious of Spock's words. Silently Sarah closed the gap and reared back with the heavy board. The man turned, knocking the weapon from her hand, grabbing her wrist in one move. She cried out and Spock was on his feet, pulling the stranger away. But the man offered no resistance. Complete surprise drained all expression from his face, as well as Sarah Jane's. The man whispered, "Sarah? Sarah Jane?" "I can't believe it." Hand to her mouth, Sarah shook her head. "It can't be. It's you!" "Of course it's me." Spock looked from one to the other. "I take it that you two are acquainted." "Mr. Spock," Sarah said, pointing. "This is the Doctor." Spock complacently studied the being. It was his turn to doubt. "Indeed. If this is the Doctor, how do you explain the difference in appearance?" The man straightened, hand going to his face. He looked down at his attire, opening the Inverness cape. "Good grief. This is rather unexpected." Sarah replied, "This how the Doctor looked when I first met him. You see, his kind can regenerate into a new body. I've seen him do it, but it looks like he's done it again, only going backwards this time." There was quite a pause as Spock silently awaited the finish of the explanation. Crossing her arms, Sarah sighed softly. "I see you don't follow me." "Wait," the older man said thoughtfully. "I remember now. We were at a place you called the Guardian. There was a young woman and another gentleman with you--a Dr. McCoy and Lieutenant Uhura. You were looking for your Captain." The Doctor rubbed his chin. "But the time lines.... Of course, the scrambled time lines must've done this." "Are you saying you're a degenerate?" Sarah said smartly. The Doctor smiled. "Yes, I guess you could say that. The time lines must've changed me, took me back to what I was." The situation was not logical, but neither was the universe at this point. Still, Spock was uncertain. As if sensing this, the Doctor met Spock's gaze. "I assure you, I am the Doctor," he said. "I have no reason to doubt you, but then I have no reason to believe you either." "There's one way to prove it," the man said seriously. "Touch my mind and you'll see." Spock's eyebrow rose. The Doctor did possess telepathic capabilities and previously he had briefly touched Spock's mind. After a beat he nodded consent. Sarah stepped back as the Vulcan moved toward the being. He took a moment to prepare and then lightly touched the older gentleman's face. Surprise registered. The mind was the same. This was one version of a multifaceted persona, of a being whose outer physical shell changed. The touch of death and the pain of rebirth--regeneration--was well known to this alien. Fascinated, the Vulcan saw this being's vast experience, his knowledge, and realized that the man had several lives yet to live, which was typical of his race. But there was a subtle difference in this Gallifreyan, one Spock recognized within himself. Breaking contact, he backed up a step. "Incredible. Your longevity--your entire race--your science--" "Won't mean a thing unless we stop the madness destroying the time stream." The Time Lord finally looked at the surroundings. "Do we know where we are?" "Negative," Spock said, retrieving his phaser and tricorder. "And there's not a soul around," Sarah added. "It's like a ghost town." The Doctor looked out a broken window. "Or more like a demilitarized zone. This place is vaguely familiar." Sudden heat and a low hum filled the room. A glassy red-orange glow spread across the far wall like a strange mirror. A whispered chant echoed faintly as another presence made itself known. Spock knew the Doctor felt the energy flow too, as they stood transfixed by the glittering wall. The psychic force coalesced in the fiery space and the image of a red-robed woman appeared. Her solemn green eyes were framed by a mask of red make-up, and her long brown hair contrasted with her fair, youthful face. "Fulfillers of the prophecy, we have long awaited your arrival. In a moment we will bring you to our sanctum." The Doctor moved to stand between Spock and Sarah. "I know where we are," he said grimly.
###
Time fractured, branching like a crazy criss-crossed spider's web. Sarah's echoing scream shot like lightning across the vast expanse. The Doctor twisted, his scarf tangling about his arms as he reached for his companion, latching onto her wrist. She faded from his grip and his own scream of denial came back at him in a deafening roar. Red pain flashed and reality hit hard, knocking the breath from his lungs. Something sharp gouged into the Doctor's side, forcing him out of his daze. Rocks? And sand? It stuck to his face, his clothes, getting into his curly hair. He lay still a moment, collecting his scattered senses. Trying to move, he found he had all the strength of over-cooked pasta. Heat baked the ground and the arid breeze didn't make the situation any more comfortable. Of course a dark brown frock coat and extra-length scarf wasn't considered warm weather clothing either. A metallic whir sounded and he ventured a look. A serious faced Dr. McCoy knelt beside him, holding a small cylindrical device directly above the Doctor's face. With a snap, the physician shut it off. "Well, that confirms it." "Confirms what?" "You're alive," McCoy said dryly as he replaced the item in his medi-kit. "I got readings, but I wasn't quite sure what to make of 'em." "Splendid," the Doctor replied flatly. And he'd thought he'd left Harry Sullivan behind. "What happened back there? You lit up like a halogen tube." With a groan, the Time Lord sat up, hugging his aching side, checking to make sure he was still in one piece. "It's hard to explain, but believe me, it was quite a shocking experience." The Doctor wiped the sand from his face, stopping to peer through his fingers at the human. Sarah's terrified face flashed against a backdrop of time gone berserk. The Matrix had manipulated him, Sarah and the Enterprise landing party, sending them back in hopes of righting a wrong. But what wrong? The Doctor's hands fell to his lap. He did a double take at the ground next to him. Covered with sand, his floppy brown hat lay within arm's reach. He grabbed it, shaking the grit off of it. "Pieces of fate," he muttered and shoved the hat on his head. McCoy gave him a curious glance. "And a bottle of rum! Look, I don't know what the hell happened, but it did and we're here in the middle of a desert. You're the only one I've found so far," McCoy said, a note of worry creeping into his voice. "There's no sign of your friend or Spock and Uhura." "The Matrix--or Guardian as you call it, pulled us into a chronal whirlpool." Still a bit shaky, the Doctor stood, and brushed off more sand from his face. "Then, they could be anywhere in time or space." "Er--yes, that's possible, knowing the tidal properties of time." "Oh, that's just wonderful. They could be visiting dinosaurs for all we know." "That could be true," the Doctor said. "Actually dinosaurs are very intelligent but make poor conversationalists." He stopped when he saw McCoy's unamused expression. "But the truth be known, I think they're right here along with us." He brushed more sand off his coat. "Somewhere." McCoy packed away his medi-kit, attaching it to his belt. "I hope you're right." "Oh, I'm most certainly right," he said, sounding more reassuring than he felt. "And we'll find them. The Matrix sucked us in and deposited us--" He looked at the arid terrain surrounding them. In the distance, a city shimmered in the steppe country heat. From the center, a bunker type facility rose above the smaller buildings. A slender metal structure pointed at the sky, glimmering in the sunlight like a big silver needle. "Who knows where," McCoy said sourly. "Yes." The Doctor squinted at the tower in the distance. "But wherever, the current would've set them down with us. Those images in the Matrix were of Gallifrey's past." But the surrounding countryside looked nothing like his his home planet. He set the angle of his hat and started down the uneven slope. "I think it's time we find out why we're here." "Hey! What about where first?" Without looking back the Doctor answered, "We'll find that out too." His boot came down on some loose rock, and he slipped, stumbling forward. McCoy caught his arm, steadying him. "Are you sure you can make it?" Regaining his balance, the Doctor looked McCoy straight in the eye. "Of course I can make it. Or would you rather we stay here and die of heat-stroke?" The physician scowled. "No." "Then come on." He yanked his arm free from McCoy's firm grasp. "Let's get to the bottom of this. I hate not knowing what's going on." And he continued toward a dirt road at the bottom of the gentle slope. With a sigh, McCoy followed. "I'm right behind you all the way." Grumbling, he added, "As if I have any choice in the matter." They made it to the road and started their trek toward civilization. In silence they walked, the Doctor mulling over the recent events, trying to place the face he'd seen in the Matrix before it exploded. Hazy as the image was, there was something familiar, something sinister about the dark black eyes, the black hair. He knew that face, but from where? And what about Sarah and the other Enterprise people? Where were they, and what part did they have in this puzzle? Breaking the quiet, McCoy said, "Y' know, it could be worse." "Worse? How?" "You could've been Spock."
###
Kirk twisted, fighting the soldier's strong grip as he was propelled down a long white hall. "No, you don't understand." He fought the energy rings restraining his wrists behind his back. "You're making a big mistake. I must speak with your Council. Now!" "Get your hands off me," Uhura protested, resisting her captor. "We're not criminals or rebels. Listen--" But the soldiers remained silent, not-so-gently guiding Kirk and Uhura along. They rounded a corner, and there in bright red uniformed glory was Captain Alleran. The rear guard pushed Uhura next to Kirk. Alleran keyed a plate and the guards practically threw them into a small cell. Kirk pivoted, standing inches from the energy barrier as it was activated. Static crackled in the cold air. "I've got to see the High Council. Right now." Alleran smugly replied, "Oh, you'll get your chance to talk, alien." He punched a button on a wrist device, and the manacles stopped glowing, freeing the prisoners hands. His white cape flared as he turned and walked away. Pneumatic doors parted and he disappeared from sight. "Damn," Kirk said, smacking a fist on the thick wall. "Those idiots. Don't they realize what's happening to their planet?" Uhura rubbed at the tight metal bracelets on her wrists. "Sooner or later, they've got to listen to you, Captain." "Yes, but sooner might be too late." "Or it's later than you think?" came a soft, masculine voice. Kirk and Uhura spun. A young blond fellow lounged on a bench. His neat red-bordered beige coat bore a stalk of celery on the lapel. The matching v-necked sweater and striped orange-hued pants made his outfit look like a uniform of some kind. Kirk began to wonder what kind of prison this was. The man leaned forward, hands clasping his right knee. "You can talk all you like, but they'll listen only when they want to hear you." There was a gleam in his eyes. "My people are famous for that." "Your people. You're a Time Lord?" Kirk asked. The man nodded. "Why are you here?" Kirk asked. "Why are you here? The Time Lord countered. "I don't like answers in the form of questions," Kirk replied, crossing his arms. "Besides, I asked first." The Time Lord stood, gave a wan smile. "It's rather difficult to explain," he said growing very serious. "Isn't it, Lieutenant Uhura?" Uhura looked startled. "How--how did you know my name?" "We've met." At her befuddlement, he tried to prompt her memory. "You were with two gentlemen, Mr. Spock and Dr. McCoy and you were looking for--" He looked at the only other person in the cell. "Ah! You must be Captain Kirk." He grabbed Kirk's hand, pumping it vigorously. "I must say this is a pleasure. I wish it were under better circumstances, but a pleasure nonetheless. Where are Mr. Spock and Dr. McCoy? They did make it through, didn't they?" Guarded, Kirk slowly withdrew his hand. "We don't know. What do you know about Mr. Spock and Dr. McCoy?" "Not much, I'm afraid. I was hoping to find them. I didn't expect you to be here." "Lieutenant, do you know him?" Kirk whispered. Uhura shook her head. "I don't know who he is. I've never seen him before in my life. If I had, I'd certainly never forget a get up like that." "Remember--back at the Matrix?" the stranger prompted, looking innocent. "Matrix," she repeated. "That's what the Doctor called the Guardian. Do you know the Doctor?" Puzzled, Kirk looked from one to the other. "Quite well," the Time Lord said, hands sliding into his trouser pockets. "Because, I am the Doctor."
###
It was as though a psychic bubble had engulfed Spock. Mist covered his senses and the ruined building faded away like a mirage. Moments later, he found himself, Sarah and the Doctor in some kind of temple. The smells of sandalwood and ginger incense tainted the pleasantly warm air. Taking in the torch-lit scene, Spock noted the internal structure had to be centuries old. Smooth walls met rough natural ones indicating the sanctum had been built into the side of a mountain. Elegant tapestries dressed stone in warm color and bronze metal work wove its way up the walls like aged trellises. "I say. That was quite impressive," the Doctor said, looking around. "How--how did that happen?" an amazed Sarah asked. "It seems we were psychically teleported here," Spock said. "Oh, yes. The Sisterhood is well known for that little trick," the Doctor said, folding back the front of his cape, revealing a black bow-tie set against a front of a white ruffled shirt. Spock raised an eyebrow. "The Sisterhood?" No sooner had he spoken, when several red-robed women emerged from the shadows, completely encircling the three. Sharp bladed lances stood high as the woman from the vision stepped forward. She bowed in all formality and said, "The Sisterhood of Karn bids you welcome. I am Ohica. The High One is awaiting you. You will follow me." She turned, heading deeper into the temple. "So much for please and thank you," Sarah said. "Indeed, a woman of few words," Spock said. The Doctor shrugged and put a hand on Sarah's shoulder. "Let's not keep the High One waiting, shall we? After all, she did save us the walk, and I'd certainly like to get to the bottom of this mystery." They followed Ohica, the rest of the Sisters giving escort. Curiosity wasn't an accurate description for what was going through Spock's mind. He studied the decor as they walked, seeing the shroud of ritual and tradition veiling this living archeological find. At last they arrived at an antechamber and Ohica knelt, arms crossing her bosom in reverence to an older woman seated on the raised dais. "High One, our effort was successful," Ohica said. "The fulfillers of the prophecy are here." An aged woman sat in a great stone chair, her steely blue gaze moving from Spock, to Sarah, then to the Doctor. Thick locks of gray hair cascaded from under a gilt decorated round headpiece, falling about her bony shoulders. Wisdom and fatigue were etched in her weathered complexion. "As was ordained." She stood, her red-gold embroidered robes folded softly around her thin frame as she stepped down from the dais. She was small but the age that lined her face belied an inner strength. Spock sensed the immense psychic power in the tiny woman. Immediately, he thought of T'Pau, matriarch of his family line on Vulcan. "I am Maren, High Priestess of the Sisterhood of Karn. Ohica, there is much to do. See to the guards and tend to those in need." "Yes, High One." She bowed deeply and left, taking her sisters with her. Spock watched them go. Maren hobbled to the Doctor, looking intently into his face. "You are not as I saw you, Time Lord." All gentleman, the Doctor smiled easily. "I didn't expect to look like this, myself. And, please, call me Doctor, madam. I haven't much use for titles these days." "Nor will any of us, soon. I sense the questions in all of you, and the answers are here." Maren went to the far wall, where a large bronze shield was bolted onto a natural cavern wall. A broad clasp and lock held it shut. "We have little time for formality. What I am about to reveal, no other outsider has ever seen, but the gravity of our situation hangs over us like a great sharp sabre." From beneath her robes, she produced a key and unlocked the clasp. With little effort, the shield opened, bathing the antechamber in burnt gold rays. Beside it, a heavy tattered black tapestry glowed in the fire- light, its Threads formed a mosaic design that glittered like amber stars. "Oh, Sacred Flame, show the fulfillers what has transpired. Reveal all in your Tapitt, so that they may know." Her hand caressed the ragged bottom, a glittering effect spreading as her fingers trailed up to the center. Engrossed, Spock stepped closer, wanting to examine the weaving, scan it with the tricorder, but he also didn't want to offend Maren. The shimmering spread through the fibers. A mist, reminiscent of the Guardian formed and Maren closed her eyes in concentration. An image formed in the now-yellow mirror-surface of the cloth. Fascinated, Spock watched, realizing that through Maren's mind the pictures had meaning. Columns supported a high vaulted chamber draped in plush red-orange, green, and purple. The high Council of Time Lords sat at a long polished dark wood table, their discussion visibly heating up. There was no need for words of explanation, the actions spoke loud enough. A tall, broad- shouldered man shot to his feet, his huge fist pounding the table. Blond hair was pulled back into a long ponytail, sharpening his angular face. Blue eyes blazed like steel, his anger transcending the image. His heliotrope robes swept out, as he stormed from the chamber. Horrified, the Doctor whispered, "That's...." "Morbius," Maren hissed, coldly. "The Patrex Cardinal, then of the High Council." The scene faded to a rally. Morbius preached to crowds of people from all over Gallifrey. Spock could see a dangerous charisma in this Time Lord, as the mob's actions grew agitated. In riotous protest, guards broke through, arresting the Time Lord. The image shifted to a trial, where sentence was passed by Morbius' peers. More images washed over the Tapitt like a tide. The Patrex was imprisoned. Belligerent followers threatened the Citadel. "Maren," the Doctor said. "I see nothing out of place." "Be silent and watch," Maren warned in a low voice. Again the pictures changed. Staser in hand, Morbius fled down a dock ramp, his purple robes billowing like sails. He entered a box-like alien craft sitting on a circular touch-pad. Lights flashed as the machine rocked violently. Suddenly there was pandemonium. People scattered, running for their lives. Terrified red-and-white uniformed guards backed off, running away as lights strobed out of sequence. The machine started to fade, then exploded into a red ball of fire and black smoke. The light from the Tapitt faded, its image twisting into a luminous figure eight that died in its center. There was a strange look on the Doctor's face. "What happened?" "It is as you saw," Maren said with stoic calm. "Morbius is dead." "That can't be. Morbius is an important historical figure." Maren looked sharply at the Time Lord. "Time has yet to take it's course." Spock had just witnessed a historic event of the planet of the Guardian. Not long ago, he'd wondered about that mysterious planet and the race that had inhabited it. Now he knew more than he cared to. A pattern was taking shape, fitting into a mold he and Captain Kirk had uncovered back on Earth, circa 1930. "What were the events that were to occur?" The Doctor was grim. "When Morbius fled Gallifrey, he terrorized the Galaxy, gathering an army from all reaches of time. When the opportunity was ripe, he attacked Gallifrey. There was a terrible war that drastically changed Time Lord society. He was finally driven from Gallifrey and the Time Lords gave pursuit. They cornered him on Karn and the final showdown took place here." "The war has taken place. At this time, Gallifrey is a torn planet," Maren said. "Without Morbius?" the Doctor asked. "An underling has taken his place and he hates the Time Lords more than he hates the Sisterhood," Maren said. "And he is here, now, on Karn. Only the Sisterhood stands between this warlord and the total domination of our planet." The Doctor remained strangely silent at Maren's remark. "Then, historical events have taken place as they should," Spock said. "Not with Morbius dead. Such a large change in the time lines would be catastrophic." "Then we were right to assume that this is the focal point of the disturbance," Spock said. "Which brings into question why we have appeared after the fact that time has already been altered." "That's an extremely good question," the Doctor said. "I wish I knew the answer." "Reviewing what we know, Gallifrey is the crux. Its destruction must not take place. If we can preserve the flow of time by keeping as close to recorded event, there is a chance the future would resume." "But then it wouldn't be the future we know," Sarah pointed out. "That is true, Miss Smith, but it would be an alternate future, where at this point, we have none." Maren's eyes riveted on the Doctor. "We have asked the High Council of Time Lords for help," she said softly. Gently, she secured the shield of the flame. "But they tell us this is none of their affair. We stand alone against the warlord." "Typical," the Doctor said in disgust. After a moments pause, he said, "Maren, we will aid you any way we can. We will devise a suitable defense for the Shrine." "You would have our eternal gratitude," Maren said.
Sarah looked at the Doctor as though he'd lost his mind. "And how are we supposed to do that? We're only three and we don't have mental powers like the Sisters." "Not on their level," Spock agreed. "But there are other ways to protect oneself, if one can find the means. However, I see that technology is severely limited on Karn." "We have no need for machines, Vulcan," Maren said. "If it will help, there is starcraft wreckage not far from the Shrine. The first attacks were from the sky. We pulled the enemy down, smashing them into the desert of burning sands." "It's worth a look," the Doctor said.
Spock kept an impassive expression. He felt certain the Doctor was hiding something, that he knew a good deal more than he was letting on. "I suggest we start immediately." Maren's unreadable gaze rested on Sarah. "It would be wise to leave the young woman with the Sisterhood. We have need of her assistance." Sarah's mouth opened, but the Doctor stopped her obvious disagreement by placing a finger on her lips. "No protests," he said. "I fully agree with Maren. Besides, you can help more here than you can outside." Pouting, Sarah turned away. Spock followed the Doctor from the chamber. "Amazing." "What is?" "Your way with humans. That is one technique I've never tried," Spock said, thinking of McCoy. Until proven otherwise, he could only believe the doctor was alive and well and with Uhura in another time period. Speculation even led him to think they may have located Jim Kirk. He stopped that train of thought for it accomplished nothing. For now, other matters were more pressing.
###
It was cooler in the confines of the city. The Doctor and McCoy traversed a deserted street, heading for the fort that loomed a dirty white in the near distance. Odd bits of debris formed barricades on the windows and doors of a smashed and looted merchant district. Battle-scarred walls and broken pavement gave evidence of fierce fighting that had taken place not long ago. The Doctor stopped in the center of an intersection to take a a lengthy look around. As expected, there was no life, but the absence of death as well was particularly eerie. It's a city on edge of nowhere, thought the Doctor. McCoy took the time to use his tricorder, the soft hum blending in the whispering breeze flowing down the vacant avenues. "Low radiation levels," McCoy said, studying the readings. "No people, no animals--nothing." "Not even a corpse." The Doctor tilted his battered felt hat to the back of his head. "If this was what I think, this is the cleanest war I've ever seen." "Not quite." "What do you mean, 'not quite'?" McCoy pointed to what looked like a sooty tan wall. "Take a look. See these faint outlines?" The Doctor bent close. Several light gray areas formed smudgy silhouettes. "Why, these look like.... Good grief!" "High carbon ash," McCoy said. "The poor devils were vaporized into likeness of their shadows before they could even realize what hit them." "Transmat flash flares, probably," the Doctor said, quite subdued. "Highly incendiary devices. The heat is so quick and intense it destroys life, but barely scorches the buildings. Gruesome things." McCoy shut the tricorder off, letting it hang at his hip. "We've walked into a virtual ghost town." As if cued, the wind swirled litter and dust across the pavement. Dry leaves and paper settled, fluttering slightly in the gutter. "We must get inside one of these buildings." The Doctor studied the street. "There may be a clue or perhaps a survivor." Instinctively, he reached for his sonic screwdriver, but it was gone, as was the TARDIS key. A sudden loud crash made him pivot sharply. McCoy was dusting off his hands and heading for a door. The upper frame retained jagged glass fragments from what had once been a window. Running, he caught up with the physician in time to stop him from reaching through the broken pane. He gripped McCoy's wrist tightly. "I was about to take care of that," he said in a low tone. McCoy met his gaze. "I took a more direct approach. It's amazing what a rock can do," he said, yanking free. "A rock? My way would have been quieter." "My God, there's no one to hear for miles around. Besides, what are you complainin' about?" McCoy gestured at the door. "The damned thing's open, so let's get on with this." Annoyed, the Doctor reached through, pulling back two heavy deadbolts. Eyes never leaving McCoy, he muttered, "You must've been a juvenile delinquent." The door swung open. "Come on, Harry," he added and entered. "The name's Leonard," McCoy countered with equal acerbity and followed. The room was dark, and flipping the power switch produced no results at all. Fishing in his pockets again, the Doctor produced a candle stub and a book of matches. One strike and the wick glowed with a sallow flame. It was an office of some type, styled in early twenty-first century art deco, and very badly damaged art deco at that. The place looked like a monsoon had hit it. Silver-colored metal discs littered the floors. "Got any rabbits in that pocket?" McCoy asked sarcastically. "Don't be smart," the Doctor replied and started nosing around. "What made you choose this place?" "It was only unprotected window I saw," McCoy said. The Doctor picked up a disc and dripped some wax on it, fixing the candle to the center. Gingerly, he set it on top of a high file cabinet. He sat down, opening several desk drawers. Rifling through the contents, he said, "Why don't you gather all the wastebins and bring them here?" "Waste--what? "You know, dustbins? Er-Garbage cans?" "Garbage cans? What do you want those for?" The Doctor looked up. "What else? Garbology! Garbage can reveal quite a bit about its owner and local current events. Now--if you please." Moving off, McCoy grumbled something about being a doctor, not a trash collector. The Time Lord shook his head and continued searching. Nothing decipherable surfaced, only a multitude of the metal discs. The next thing he knew, a pile of paper and scraps were uncerimoniously dumped on the desk in front of him. Glaring, he saw McCoy give a satisfied grin. "Your garbage, sir," the physician said politely, and gave a slight bow. The Doctor sighed. "Fantastic. Now we start going through it." McCoy shrugged, pulling a piece of crumpled paper from the pile. The minutes passed, the candle growing shorter, the paper mound smaller. The Doctor leaned back in the chair, tossing the last crumpled wad over his shoulder. Frustrated, he stared into the darkness. "I can't believe we didn't find anything in this heap." "So much for garbage--" McCoy cut himself off as he held the last remnant to the light. "Wait. Look at this." He held it close to the flame and shook his head. "I dunno. Can't read the language." "Give it to me." The Doctor snatched the paper from McCoy. Studying it, he read, "Events medialine--encoded discs. This place is a paper conversion center. The information has been under our noses all the time." The paper floated to the floor as he picked up a smooth circular disc. "What we want to know may be on here." His excitement died. "But we've no way to read it. And there are multitudes of the little trinkets." McCoy tapped his shoulder, holding up the tricorder. The Doctor grinned. "Excellent." After scanning several discs, the Doctor set about decoding the information. They propped the device on the desk. After several attempts and with Dr. McCoy's help, they got a picture. "Paydirt," McCoy said. "Shh!" The Doctor concentrated on the picture forming on the tiny screen. The city turned out to be Kantel, the planet was--Karn. Alien forces had taken over the planet, and all who fought against them were destroyed. Only the Sisterhood had successfully resisted. He sat back and frowned, a vague, troubled feeling pervading him. "It's as I suspected," he said gravely. "It's the arrival of Morbius." As he spoke a headline flickered, and he suddenly sat up straight. McCoy leaned forward. "You look pale. What's the matter?" "I don't believe it. It's not possible." "What's not possible?" "The most important historical figure in this time period was assassinated on Gallifrey." The Doctor read the newsline as is appeared on the tricorder. "A new master takes control." Shock chilled the Doctor to the marrow. "Morbius is dead." "That's great. What's it supposed to mean?" "A new 'master'?" the Doctor mused. A picture formed, but the poor contrast made it look like a fourth generation copy. Even though it lacked detail, the face on the small screen was the same he'd seen in the Matrix. "No. It can't be him. But, then it wouldn't be beyond him." The Doctor took a deep breath. "We've got to get inside that fortress."
###
A burning red sun rested high over the yellow desert mountain range. The barren terrain looked so much like Vulcan, Spock had to remind himself he was actually on Karn. Waves of heat rippled the dry air in strength sapping vengeance. He found the climate tolerable, but even a Vulcan could suffer heatstroke. A starfleet uniform was not proper desert garb, but it was more appropriate than the Doctor's attire. Even though the Time Lord was without the Inverness cape, his discomfort was evident. "Doctor, may I suggest you use your jacket like a cape so the air could circulate underneath, yet keep you insulated." "Looking a bit ragged, am I?" The Doctor stopped to rest a moment. "It's no wonder. Four hundred years ago, I could've run across this mountain and back twice." He waved as if brushing the matter aside. "Ah, it's not much farther," he said and he continued leading the way. The questions welled up, the Vulcan's curiosity begging to be appeased. "The proposed plan is plausible," Spock said, "provided we can find what we need." "Don't worry. We'll find what we need." "Worry is an emotional state of which I am incapable, Doctor. I was merely stating that it is possible we may not find a proper unit. Which brings me to ask--why is it so important the Shrine be protected?" "It's the Time Lords' fault the Sisters are in this predicament. I couldn't turn my back on them." "And?" "And what?" "Your reason is valid, but there's more, isn't there?" "Yes," the Doctor said as they broke past a clump of gnarled needle-leafed plants. "Being a time traveler, I know certain things about the future. The Sisterhood and Time Lords are to form an alliance, and their combined strength is to turn the tide of events. I must give them that chance, if we're going to try to preserve what future is left. Once they're protected, I intend on paying a visit to the city." "You don't believe this Morbius is dead." "I don't know what to believe. Maybe it's what you said during our chat with Maren. Why would the Matrix set us down after the fact? That is one mystery I intend to solve." Spock followed the Doctor down a worn footpath which descended into a sea of sand that stretched as far as he could see. Ahead lay a graveyard of silver and white wrecked space cutters. The metal remains jutted from ever shifting sands, the sun glinting off the twisted hulks. The Doctor squinted into the glare. "Not far now." He pointed at a small battle-armored craft that had bellied into the dunes. "That one looks to be in the best condition. Shall we?" "Affirmative," Spock said and left the solid footpath. They trudged the short remaining distance to what looked like a streamlined shuttlecraft from Spock's time. Waves of heat rose from the sun-baked hull and what shade the derelict cast offered no relief. Spock scanned the craft with his tricorder. "The Sisterhood commands incredible mental power. How much do you know about them?" "I know enough to stay out of trouble," the Doctor replied, studying the hull. "They know the secret of immortality. That flame we saw in the antechamber--its gases interact with the mineral deposits in the volcanic vent and condenses into an incredible liquid that stops aging. Those women are centuries old and have controlled Karn ever since they discovered their Elixir of Life. Change doesn't come easy for them." "Social stagnation." "You could say that." "I believe I just did." Spock held the tricorder close. "Here. An access hatch." "Then this should be the control slot." The Doctor pulled a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and wrapped his hand. A push on the plate caused a small door to flip out. With a twist, the seals popped, rancid air escaping with a whoosh as the service hatch loosened. The Doctor removed his velvet jacket, using it to grasp the hot metal. With one sharp tug, the heavy door swung aside, and they crawled through the opening. Interior lights barely flickered on under the low battery current. The heat and stale air that had been trapped inside the craft made the outside environment seem considerably pleasant. Spock looked in the cockpit, then gently closed the door. Expressionless, the Doctor followed Spock aft. There was no need for explanation. The unpleasant odor from the cockpit told the fate of the three man crew. Maneuvering around fallen struts and smashed equipment, they found the engineering compartment. Still scanning, Spock knelt beside a compact unit that was a technological masterpiece. He pulled off the access panel and looked inside. Engineer Scott would have been duly impressed, he thought. "The drive pack is undamaged. Evidently the circuits never engaged the emergency generator. It's still fully charged." "Which is fortunate for us. It'll serve our need quite sufficiently." The Doctor looked over Spock's shoulder. "Is it removable?" "Elementary underpinnings. The task should be simple. Odd, the matter/antimatter capsule is gone." "Probably the Sisterhood's work. They certainly wouldn't want an antimatter explosion on their back doorstep." "A logical assumption." A faint noise "skreeked" along the underside of the hull as the wind pelted grains of sand against the ship's skin. The creak of straining metal sounded as the deck tilted slightly to the left. Odd, thought Spock, the vessel was firmly embedded into the desert floor, which appeared quite stable. Their weight should not disturb the ship's position. "Let's make this as quick as possible," the Doctor said. The craft had been well supplied. Gathering needed instruments, the two set about extracting the equipment. Spock glanced at the Doctor, who was busy uncoupling two main cables. After a moment, he knelt and started working on the underside of the unit, detaching the stabilizer braces to the module. Unbidden doubts crept into his mind. From previous experience, Spock knew the fragility of time. If they were wrong, time would crumble. If they did nothing, it would still crumble. Yet, if they were right, what future would they face? The first bracket came loose. Twisting onto his back, Spock reached up under the housing overhang. A subsonic hum vibrated the metal shell. Even in all the uncertainty, the Doctor worked with an air of confidence, disconnecting feeder lines and fiberoptics. From Spock's perception of what a Time Lord should be, the Doctor didn't fit the description. Much like himself, the Doctor was an outsider to his own race. "Mr. Spock, tell me about your home planet." "Vulcan is a class M planet consisting mostly of desert and sparse seas. The mean temperature is 140 degrees...." "Not the textbook description." The Doctor set sonic device on top of the unit. "What's it really like?" After a brief pause, Spock asked, "Is there a purpose to this discussion?" "I'm curious. That's all." Spock thought a moment. "It's much like Karn." "But not home, eh?" "It is the place of my ancestors." "But not home." The Doctor looped some cable on top of the module. "The Enterprise is your home, like the TARDIS is mine. I thought I sensed a difference in you. You're not a typical Vulcan." Spock refused to feel embarrassed. "Really, Doctor," he said stoically. He freed the main brace, removing the fastenings. "And what is this 'difference'?" "There's a warmth inside you, and you hide it rather well. Then there's the friendship you share with your human shipmates." Spock started to refute the statement, but the Doctor cut him off. "No, don't deny it. It's there--the glow of emotional ties. You care very deeply for each of them--even your Dr. McCoy." "It would be illogical to deny loyalty to one's shipmates." After a pause, Spock added, "It's similar to the loyalty you demonstrate toward humans--particularly Ms. Smith." Spock stood, wiping a smear of silicone grease off his hand with a rag. "Don't look so surprised. From what information I perceived during our mind touch, you do not appear to be a typical Time Lord." The Doctor smiled gently. "Touche'." Spock continued working. "It's puzzling. Why do you, a fullblooded Gallifreyan, choose to entertain the human characteristics of emotion." "Emotion is the color of life. A steady diet of logic leaves the world looking very gray." The Doctor severed another lead. "That's one of the many reasons I left my home world." Spock lifted an eyebrow. He decided to drop the line of conversation, not wishing to get involved with a logic verses emotion discussion. Debating those subjects with one doctor was enough. For several minutes they worked in silence. Finally the unit came free. Despite his sore shoulder, Spock eased the heavy component forward. "Easy there, old fellow," the Doctor said, grabbing hold to help. "If we're ever to get home, I want you to be in one piece." As it slid forward, the ship trembled, the sandpaper scratching resounding throughout the hull. "This is puzzling. I did not think this area to be so unstable," Spock said. "I don't think that's what it is," the Doctor said, quite concerned. "Let's get out of here." And he placed his hand on the unit. Spock dropped the pouch of tools on top and did likewise. Closing his eyes, he concentrated, calling to the Sisterhood. Danger flashed in his mind, reverberating in a psychic wave as a scream knifed through the air. The Doctor spun toward the service hatch. "Great heavens! That sounded like-- No! Oh, please, not her." And he was moving before Spock could react. The Doctor was halfway out the hatch when Spock caught him, yanking him back. They fell as bolts of fire sprayed against the metal hull. Another scream pierced the air and Spock dared to look out. Black garbed figures were charging across the sands, weapons raised, racing for the derelict. With a Herculean effort, the Doctor shoved Spock off of him. "We've got to help Sarah." Spock clamped down hard on the Doctor's arm. "There is no time. We must get the module back to the shrine. We cannot take the risk." Absolute coldness gripped Spock during the few seconds the two stared at each other. Tight lipped, the Doctor pushed past him, running for the engineering compartment. Grimly, he followed the Time Lord. The first black figure reached the hatch, leaning inside and taking aim. Spock pulled down the door, his bruised shoulder threatening more than ache as he jammed a trihead wrench into the hydraulics. Weapon blasts hammered against the door and hull, rocking the ship. A deafening explosion shook the ground, lifting the wreck, throwing Spock against the Doctor. The module skidded sideways, threatening to crash into the wall. Fighting for balance, the two reached for the unit, stabilizing it. "They're blasting the ground," the Doctor said breathlessly. "They mean to bury us." "Concentrate," Spock snapped, beyond caring how he sounded. "Call to the Sisterhood. We must make contact." Their eyes closed in concentration as their efforts combined, reaching out to that plane of psychic communication only the Sisterhood could feel. The Doctor's thoughts were ice cold, lacking any emotion. Spock's tenseness eased as he added his strength of will to the plea. The thunderous din of attack grew fainter, replaced by the soft sounds of chanting. A gentle psychic touch wrapped around Spock. A tremendous quake heaved the small craft sideways. The deck slid from beneath Spock's feet. Contact broke into glistening shards of reality. Sharp fear blasted through his mind. The pain and anxiety Spock hid flooded over his mental dam. The faces of his lost friends, Jim Kirk, McCoy and Uhura were like ghosts of another dimension calling to him for help. He was powerless. The Doctor's distress over Sarah Jane echoed in the turbulent psuedo-reality. The two reached for each other for support. Nebulous claws of psychic energy gripped Spock body and soul, and the sinking vessel faded.
###
"It doesn't need testing," the Warlord said, swiveling his chair away from the monitor. Chin resting on his fist, he scowled at the caninoid image on the video screen. "If you've followed the plans to the letter, Phydos, it will work." "The plans you gave us were for a prototype," the scientist argued. "I designed this portable power pack and saw it tested on Gallifrey. Put it on a booster and it transforms into a very powerful weapon." "That is true, but it should have further testing. Modifications may be needed in the pods or the capsule itself." "And where shall we test it?" the Warlord asked. "One spark would alert the Time Lords." The caninoid shrugged. "Very well, my lord. But my team will not be responsible if something goes awry." The Warlord leaned back in his chair. "I thought I recruited the best scientific minds through out time," he said in a deadly tone. "I'm beginning to believe I got a lot of dormice. Nothing had better go wrong, because we won't get a second chance. Now get to work." He punched the telecom button and the screen went dark. Behind him, the doors opened and two black-garbed desert rats entered, dragging a protesting human female between them. With a savage thrust, they propelled her forward and she fell at the Warlord's feet. He eyed the female with displeasure. His minions wouldn't bring such a worthless creature before him without good reason. "What's this?" The soldier on the right dropped his mask, revealing a dark blue complexion, and mouth framed with bristled whiskers. "She was caught in the foothills, near the wreckage of the first assault. " "Interesting," the Warlord said, his gaze never leaving the woman. "Why were you there?" Silently, she looked up. Only her eyes betrayed her fright. Other than that, she held her mask of bravery very well. He bent close, using a deep, gentle voice. "Tell me, my little one, why were you in the foothills?" "I'm not your little one," she retorted. A fiery one, he thought. "Very well. Do you have a name?" She rubbed her arms where the soldiers had rough-handled her. "Sarah--Sarah Jane Smith." "Sarah," he mused. "You're from Earth, aren't you?" Wariness changed her expression as she nodded her answer. "A human female in the desert near our wrecked cutters. You must've had reason to be there." "I was lost." His gaze narrowed. "Where did you come from to get so lost?" "I--I don't know." "My lord," the second soldier said, "she was trailing two men. They entered one of the wrecked cutters before we could stop them, so we destroyed it." Eyes downcast, Sarah hugged herself tightly. "This grows more interesting." So the woman was small, but not insignificant, he decided. "Who were your friends?" "You don't know them," she answered softly. "I will know them," he said, a dark edge in his voice. "Your presence causes me some consternation." Gently, he grasped her wrists, pulling her to her feet. "Why don't you save yourself a lot of trouble? Who were they?" Sarah shrank back. "Mr. Spock and the Doctor." "Spock? What is a 'Spock'?" "He's not a what." Her brief boldness faded at his glare. Softly, she said, "He's from the planet Vulcan." "I know of the place. Who is this Doctor?" "He's--he's a Time Lord." The Warlord's eyes opened wide, alarm spreading through him like a chill. "A Time Lord?" he whispered. His grip tightened. "Why--why were they there? Tell me!" Crying out, she squirmed. "I don't know. They wouldn't tell me." Bravado crumbling, tears glazed her eyes. "They left me at the Shrine--" "Of the Sisterhood?" "Yes." Black hate filled him. "Take her to Krell," he said softly, releasing Sarah to the soldiers, who pinned her arms behind her back. "Tell him to prepare," he said in a low voice, "for full interrogation." The woman paled, her eyes dark and wide. "But--I know nothing. I swear. I haven't the slightest idea what's going on here." She struggled as the two hauled her from the control center, her pleadings fading in the distance. The Warlord watched a monitor, seeing them take the pathetic female down a corridor. Staring at nothing, he tried to calm his hearts. No, this wasn't possible. A Time Lord on Karn? But they had no inkling of where he was, let alone who. Hands behind his back, he paced. This had to be a coincidence. Thoughts of very recent events drew into the focus of his mind's eye. Black smoke filled the foothills, the wrecked space-cutters burning like torches fed with petrol. Maren and her band of whores stood by, openly defying his conquest of Karn. Red veils snapping in the desert winds, the old harpie raised her arm, pointing a bony finger at him. At every turn will you be blocked. You will rue the day you set foot on our planet, Patrex, for the fire of death is upon your head. His fist crashed down on the console. "No! I do this for a just cause!" Shock snapped him back to the present. A scratchy, speaker filtered voice reached through the illusion. The intercom. Someone was calling. "My lord, are you all right? This is Krell. Please respond?" He shook his head, hand raking back thick black hair. "Yes. Yes, what is it Krell?" "Do you wish to observe the interrogation of the human?" "Yes, I'll be right down." He signed off, remaining seated for a moment longer. He had reacted to a silly, illogical superstition. Maren's words couldn't determine the future. Yet, each time victory was within his reach, something always snatched it away. It wouldn't happen this time, he swore He wouldn't allow it. Hurriedly, he left the room for the lower detention levels.
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Kirk leaned against the cell wall, watching the exchange between the stranger and Uhura. If the situation hadn't been so serious, it would've been funny. Fists resting on her hips, Uhura said, "The Doctor I saw was taller than you, had brown curly hair and blue eyes." "Yes, and I was wearing a brown coat, red ascot, green plaid vest, long multi-colored scarf and a brown felt hat," the man said. "I've heard that Time Lords can change their physical appearance, Uhura," Kirk said. "This could be the case here." "Which, in a way, it is. The time lines are jumbled, decaying. When I time-phased out of the vortex, I was pushed ahead an incarnation." "And in the meantime you stopped and changed clothes," Uhura said pointedly. "No," the Doctor said, clenching a fist in frustration. "You don't understand. How can I explain it?" He thought hard for a a moment. "I am a future self, pulled from my present self. I'm as I will be as determined by my timeline." Hand on his chest for emphasis, he said, "I shouldn't be here as I don't yet exist." Kirk and Uhura exchanged doubtful glances. This conversation was getting as convoluted as their situation and it made just about as much sense. The Time Lord shook his head. "I knew you wouldn't understand, but Lt. Uhura, you've got to believe me. I am the same Doctor you saw at the Matrix. When my wits returned, I found myself here, in the Panopticon. Before I could even begin to think, the Chancellory guards caught me. Predictably, I was accused of spying and thrown in here." Arms crossed, Uhura stood straight. "I don't know." She threw her hands in the air. "I don't know what to believe anymore. This is all so crazy." "Believe me," the stranger implored. Uhura's skepticism was still apparent. Since his abduction from the Enterprise, Kirk had learned not all appeared as it seemed, especially on this world called Gallifrey. He scrutinized the strangers actions and expression which was now one of exasperation. "Very well then, if I'm not the Doctor, how would I know you? Your Captain? About your missing friends, Mr. Spock and Dr. McCoy? About your future and mine, which no longer exists. I certainly didn't read about it in the morning newspaper." Metal cuffs glinted on his wrists as he too, crossed his arms. What the blond fellow said struck a chord in Kirk. This stranger, whether his name was the Doctor or Aloysius, didn't strike him as an enemy. The manner and body language was wrong. And the fact the he knew too much about them was undeniable. "Hold it, Lieutenant. I think we can trust this guy." "Sir?" "Call it a gut feeling." "Thank you, Captain," the Doctor said with relief. "But if I'm wrong, we'll never know. Will we?" "I assure you, you're not wrong on either count." Kirk merely nodded, feeling an uneasiness growing in his stomach. This whole mess was getting more and more tangled as time progressed. "What I'd like to know is why the Council has put us on hold. If I were running this war and thought I had three possible spies in my hands, I'd question them immediately." "From what I recall of this period of Gallifreyan history, the High Council is still in turmoil. First of all, a new president was named, and then this civil upheaval has kept them quite occupied." The Doctor paused, looking at the ceiling. "Morbius certainly hit them at their weakest point and he knows it." "Morbius?" Kirk frowned. "Morbius is dead." The Doctor looked up sharply. "What?" "He died not too long ago, in an escape attempt that backfired. A time capsule exploded with him inside it." "But that's impossible." The Doctor sank to the edge of the bench. "The change in history would be disastrous." Grimly, he added, "And it would explain everything that has happened to us." A chill cloaked Jim Kirk as memories of another incident resurfaced. Again he gripped McCoy's arms, heard the screech of rubber tires against pavement. The scream of the woman he loved still echoed in his ears. Edith had to die to save his future. Something clicked inside his head. "How?" Kirk asked. "How can the death of one man unravel time? At most, history would be changed, not destroyed." Surprised, the Doctor looked up. "You're right. There's more to this than meets the eye. Morbius's death obviously touched off a chain reaction creating an imbalance in the time stream that is changing order into chaos. But what? And why has the entropy moved from future to past? And if Morbius is gone, who leads the rebellion?" "A second in command," Kirk said. "He goes by the title of Warlord. He's running the operation off-world." The Doctor's fair eyebrows rose and he gave a little laugh. "Warlord? I haven't heard that term since the War-games fiasco," he muttered. "Off world, eh? Have you ever seen him?" "Only a holograph," Kirk replied, puzzled by all the questions. "Dark hair, dark eyes, looks like you're classic noble from Earth's ancient Roman era." "How were you recruited?" the Doctor asked. Kirk told him what had happened on the Enterprise. The Doctor nodded knowingly. "The time scoop. So that's how the scoundrel by-passed the transduction barriers. Rassilon must be turning over in his tomb." "Who's Rassilon?" Uhura asked. "He was proclaimed to be the first and greatest Time Lord, but that's another story." Kirk frowned. "You're asking a lot of questions." "Of course. To solve a mystery you need to ask questions. The more pieces you fit together, the clearer the puzzle picture becomes, right?" The Doctor rose from the bench. In three strides, he was at the cell door studying the frame. "We certainly have a gaggle of questions, and we won't find any answers studying cracks in the ceiling." Uhura stood beside Captain Kirk, also watching the Time Lord. "What I'd like to know is who placed us here?" "I'm more concerned with why." the Doctor replied. "We'll never know unless we get out of here," Kirk said, quelling his own worries. More than the lives of his friends was at stake. Fingers tracing along a seam in the lock plate, the Doctor said, "There are usually point slots somewhere--normally used for maintenance. We could jam the symtronic circuit. Ah! Here it is." He felt his coat pockets. "They took everything from me." "Don't look at me," Kirk said. "We'd need something small, fine pointed. A wire or slender piece of metal." "Uhura, your earrings," Kirk said. The Doctor's expression brightened. "Yes, they would be perfect." "Certainly," she said. "Anything to get us out of here." She started to remove the gold hoops. "You have a plan," Kirk said. "Indeed I do." The clump-clump of heavy boots echoed in the hall. The three quickly moved away from the door. Two guards flanking him, Alleran appeared, the same smug look on his face. "Time for a small chat." The two guards trained their stasers on the three in the cell. "We'll take the male human first." "One moment, young man," the Doctor protested, boldly stepping forward. "As a citizen of this planet and a member of the Prydonian chapter, I demand an audience with the High Council. Besides, I was here first." "We have no record of you," Alleran sneered. "You're a Time Lord who doesn't exist." He touched a control on his wrist device and Kirk's manacles slammed together. "So step back and shut up," Alleran growled. Another button on the device buzzed and the cell barrier dropped. "Now, human, be a good boy and come forward," he said, motioning with a crook of the finger. "You wouldn't want to see your friends get hurt, now would you?" The three looked at each other. Kirk gave a barely perceptible nod then faced his captors. "Since you put it that way, it seems I have no choice." Meekly he started toward the guards. As he crossed the threshold, the two accompanying soldiers reached to grip his arms. Kirk swung double fists into one, sending the man reeling into the other. Alleran shouted, lunging as Kirk spun and landed a solid boot into the man's gut. The enemy was down but not out. "Come on!" he yelled, taking off down the hall. The Doctor and Uhura followed, catching up to Kirk at the turn of the corridor. "Excellent move, Captain!" the Doctor said. "But follow me. We need transportation and I know just where to find it." "But what about the High Council?" Uhura asked. "They can--" His reply was choked off as sudden electric fire charged up Kirk's nerves. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe. Muscles froze as shock robbed him of precious mobility. His legs gave way and he hit the floor hard, pain twisting his mind and body. From somewhere he heard Uhura scream, and the Doctor cry out in the same burning agony. Alleran was towering over him, jabbing at his accursed wrist device. "You rebel scum! You want mercy? Beg! Beg and I'll show you mercy like you did my family," he said through gritted teeth, pressing another button. A searing cry erupted from Kirk's throat as he writhed. Then the torment stopped as quickly as it had come, and he went lax. With the last dregs of strength, he rolled onto his back, only to lie still as a black curtain dropped, shutting off the world.
###
Clouds of dust flew through the hot dry air as the clump-thump of many feet, some booted, some bare, crossed a concrete gangway. A contingent of ragged looking soldiers of various origins approached the high walled fortress. Like a dam opening, the fortress front gates parted, permitting a steady stream of bodies to move though the entrance. In the midst of the throng, the Doctor and McCoy moved along, blending into the crowd of various life forms. The Doctor tilted his brown floppy hat so that the rim kept the sun out of his eyes and leaned slightly in the physician's direction. "This was rather ingenious, if you ask me," he said in a low voice. "Ha! This was a stroke of luck." McCoy lowered his voice when a lizard-like creature looked his way. "If this guy's army weren't such a hodge-podge, we'd have stuck out like a sore thumb." He cast a sideways glance at the Doctor. "Especially you." "Jealousy will get you nowhere," the Doctor said, though he knew McCoy was right. Back in the city, opportunity had appeared in the shape of a black triangle floating, twisting and turning through the air. The sight of the time scoop arriving on Karn made his hair curl. Not just one, but many time scoop portals landed, spewing forth a hoard of mis-matched troops. Just blend in, he'd told McCoy. Spin a yarn--who'd question you in an outfit of mercenaries and outlaws. And here they were walking into the fortress. McCoy was intently studying the crowd surrounding them. "You won't find them here," the Doctor said in a low voice. "What?" McCoy blinked. "How'd you know what I was doing?" "Call it a feeling." The Doctor pensively bit his lower lip. "To be truthful, I've been looking, too." "I guess it is kinda foolish to think Spock or Uhura, or maybe even Jim might be here." "Hope is never foolish. We'll find them, and Sarah." Unexplained twinges of anxiety bothered the Doctor as he thought of his companion. Something was wrong and he couldn't figure out why he felt that she was in deep trouble. He didn't even know where she was. "They could be dead for all we know," McCoy said. The Doctor frowned and shook his head. "No. They're alive." "Another of your feelings?" McCoy asked. The Doctor nodded. The traffic flow carried them into a compound yard encircling a three story building. A large metal tower rose from the roof, extending high into the sky. "Hello," the Doctor said, craning his neck to look at it. "This gets more interesting as we go along." McCoy looked up. "What's so interesting about an antenna?" "I've seen one of these before, but I can't seem to remember where." "Come on, let's keep moving," McCoy urged, waving and smiling at the lizard creature. He grabbed the Doctor's elbow, pushing the Time Lord along. Following a smaller group of people, they went inside the complex. Wide-eyed the Doctor took in all. The style and interior design was exactly like the Panopticon on Gallifrey, only the building was not nearly as immense. The Doctor pulled McCoy aside, away from the clatter and noise, taking a hall marked in green. "If my guess is right, the medical wing will be just down this corridor and it should be marked in blue." "Your guess--?" McCoy looked wary. "Wait a minute. Why are you telling me this?" "Because I want you to go there. Infirmaries usually have all the current gossip and I want you to find out all you can." "Or maybe this is a way to get me outta your hair?" McCoy asked softly. "Yes--no! Of course not." The Doctor frowned. "You're a physician, aren't you? And that makes you the best candidate to go. If I went, as you said, I'd 'stick out like a sore thumb.'" "And what are you gonna do?" "Oh, poke about here and there." "That's just great. After all you told me about how dangerous this is, you're just going to waltz right in and say 'Hi, I'm the Doctor, have you been messing up the time stream?' and expect an answer?" "You must admit, it's better than doing the polka." McCoy scowled and said, "You know what I mean." The Doctor met the physician's stern gaze. "Dr. McCoy, I have some suspicions. Until I can confirm them, we can't take any action." McCoy sighed, obviously not liking what he was hearing. "All right. Let's meet back here in an hour." "An hour?" "Yes. You know--sixty Earth minutes. You are familiar with time, aren't you?" The Doctor bit back a scathing retort. "Why the rendezvous?" "I'm a doctor, not a telepath. How else can I find you, if I don't know where you'll be?" "All right. One hour," the Doctor agreed, and McCoy started to leave. "There's one more thing," the Doctor said in all seriousness. "Be very, very careful." "I'll keep that in mind, if you'll do likewise," McCoy said softly then took his leave, disappearing around the bend in the hall. Feelings of guilt plagued the Doctor. It was risky sending McCoy off like that, but he'd weighed the possibilities. McCoy could be a pain, but the man wasn't stupid, and he was far safer carrying out this charade instead of following around a Time Lord. Heading the opposite direction, he found a branching corridor marked in red. Suspicion grew strong inside him, almost nagging. It simply had to be his old nemesis, the Master. Only his twisted genius could dream up a scheme of this magnitude. The hall was sparsely populated. A felinoid passed by, growling a salutation. He tipped his hat, continuing on, walking in as if he owned the place. Two green Orion males strode past without giving him a second glance. He turned a corner and was greeted by a door with red letters saying: 'Authorized Personnel Only'. Memory had served him perfectly. Just as in the original Panopticon, he'd found the nerve center. Giving himself the authority, he went inside. The door shut softly behind him. He pushed up the brim of his hat, hardly believing the sight. In the semi-darkness, computer banks lined the circular room, digits and lights shifting in colored patterns of logical beauty. Surveillance monitors on the far wall displayed various views of the fortress and the surrounding area. The odd thing was, no one was manning the consoles. Quiet as a cat, he crept to the center of the room. No alarms or sirens blared. Perhaps the center was completely automated, sending data to other manned areas. But still, there should be security personnel about. He made a complete tour of the area, looking at each computer station. On one monitor, he saw McCoy already at work in the medical section. Still, an uneasy feeling persisted. Continuing until he found the console he wanted, he sat down. After a few moments, he dredged up codes so old they were practically dusty and started in on the keyboard, the tikka-click of the keys blending with the soft hums and bleeps of the hardware. Before too long he coaxed a response from the computer. Displays moved on the screen. As he read, the Doctor's eyes opened wide. "Plans to make Karn the citadel for--the new Time Lords!" he whispered, immediately requesting more data. A new Matrix bank had been built, construction of a new Eye of Harmony was complete, and a receiving tower put in place, waiting to be charged with the tremendous energies of antimatter unleashed. He sat back, finger to his chin. "Of course! The tower is a replica of the one on Gallifrey. But, why build one here? There aren't any black holes around for millions of miles." He called forth more information. His frown deepened as the words "Antimatter Reaction Pod" appeared. Schematics revealed a two stage, time-demat missile. A glance at the target coordinates made him sink deeper into the chair. "Gallifrey. The warhead is aimed at Gallifrey. He's planning to steal the Time Lords' power source by destroying the planet." "That's very good," a deep voice said from behind him. The Doctor sprang from the chair, doing a hard about as the lights blazed on bright. In the entrance stood a rather large, foreboding figure. Dark hair fell over the man's high forehead. The arrogantly jutting nose, the square jaw, the telepathic feel--he was a Time Lord, but not the Master. Struggling to keep his composure, the Doctor smiled. "Oh--hello, there. You should've knocked. You scared the daylights out of me." The man gave a crooked smile, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. "Knock at my own control center? Come now, you're the one trespassing." The Doctor pointed at the door. "Oh. Well, the place was open, so I thought I'd come in for a look 'round and I must say I'm really very impressed." He stared hard at the man, straining to read the telepathic emanations of this Time Lord. He'd felt that icy pattern before. Silence ticked by and a mixture of relief and dread filled him as he remembered to whom that pattern belonged. "Morbius," he whispered, then rattled on. "My, my, haven't we changed. That's quite a new face you have there. Striking, actually. Say, aren't you supposed to be dead?" "Quite dead. It took some choreography, but my 'death' was very convincing. Truth is so easily hidden. Only the gullible believe all that's reported and rumor can so embellish actual facts." Morbius's impassive regard was unnerving. "Wouldn't you say so, Doctor?" The Doctor's smile went cold. "How did you know who I am?" The Patrex entered the room, his heliotrope robes rustling slightly as he took the seat the Doctor had previously occupied. "Oh, I know a great deal about you, Prydonian," he answered mysteriously, as he played with the keyboard. "What is the idiom the Earth-humans use?" He swiveled toward the Doctor, a knowing smile on his face. "Ah, yes--a little bird told me. You've done quite well for a renegade Time Lord who has yet to be born." Mystified, the Doctor shook his head. "But I'm alone. No one could've told you about me." "My 'bird' is a small Earth female, brown hair, brown eyes. I believe you know her. Does the name Sarah Jane Smith mean anything to you?" "Sarah?" the Doctor repeated softly. His fists clenched tightly. "Sarah's here?" "And quite safe, I might add." Morbius clasped his hands, letting them rest in his lap. Smugly he said, "I'm pleased she was so accurate in her description of you." He pursed his lips. "Although, at the end of our session she spoke of your third incarnation and a Vulcan. I find that rather interesting. Would you care to explain?" The Doctor scratched his head. "It's not much of a story. Even I don't understand it all." Especially the bit about the third self, he thought. "And the Vulcan?" "I haven't seen him for quite some time." "Doctor, what does a rat smell like?" "Very nasty. What's a rodent got to do with this?" Morbius kept a stoic expression as the Doctor puzzled over the statement. His smile widened. "Oh, I see. You're using another quaint Earth cliche'." He jammed his hands into his coat pockets. Facial expression could mask true inner feeling, but the hands were always a dead give-away. The Doctor felt like the rat they had spoken of: trapped with no way out. Morbius' icy expression changed into a warm smile. He rose, and with a polite gesture toward the doors, said, "Come. I'm sure you're anxious to see your friend." "Very anxious, he said softly, his eyes not leaving the Patrex. He hesitated, then moved, Morbius falling into step behind him. The doors automatically opened and they headed down a hall. Dark thoughts clouded the Doctor's mind. Sarah? He could feel the time-vise rapidly closing. The matrix had not made an error after all. He had landed in the trouble spot, very deep into it.
###
Spock sat back from the generator unit now located in the middle of the Shrine's courtyard. He wiped the dust from his face, taking a moment to inspect his work. Progress was slow, but what they were going to attempt was within reach. Three feet away, the Doctor was still working on the warp pod modifications. A substantial amount of time had passed since the Sisters had pulled them from the wrecked space-cutter, saving them from a sandy grave, and the yet Time Lord had not uttered a word. Spock regarded him a moment longer, then placed the newly installed cable on the rocky ground. Should he say something? But what does one say to ease such turmoil? Emotional pain was not new to Spock. He knew how to block such feelings, but they never completely disappeared. They always hid beneath that barrier of control, as they hid now. A crunch sounded from inside the machine. "Damn!" The Doctor pulled back, massaging his left hand. He looked up as Spock turned toward him. "Sorry, I'm a bit distracted at the moment." "No apology is needed," Spock answered. "The circumstances are unfortunate. I did not realize how deeply you care for Ms. Smith." "She's much like a daughter to me. We've been though a number of dangerous situations together." Frustration was evident in every line on his face. "But this time I was powerless to help her. Blast it all, Sarah, why did you have to follow us?" "I've found that human resourcefulness is quite remarkable. She may surprise you." The Doctor smiled softly. "Yes, quite true." He went back to his task. "For a Vulcan, you understand emotion very well. That was an excellent thing to say." Spock raised an eyebrow. "On the contrary, I know of emotion. I do not understand it. I was merely stating an observation." "Of course," the Doctor's smile widened, as he made some final adjustments inside the pod. He turned, setting a sonic device on top of the pod. "The magnetic reflection poles are reversed. Once power is connected, we should be able to project the negative barrier, and expand it like a balloon until it surrounds the shrine." "If we can sustain sufficient energy flow." Spock raised his tricorder, checking both units. "Power demand was controlled from the cutter's cockpit. I shall have to convert my tricorder into a regulator." In three strides he was at the flat topped rock that substituted for a work table. He set the black device on the smooth surface and started choosing through the tools they'd pirated from the scout ship. Removing the tricorder cover, he began calculating the adjustment, making them as he went. A clatter, like that of small stones sliding down an embankment sounded from the courtyard perimeter. Spock and the Doctor exchanged puzzled glances. Dark, thick psychic sensations saturated the air, emanating from the temple like fog. A chanting began, rising in pitch and fervor. Danger flashed in Spock's mind and his hand instinctively went to his phaser. Robes flowing wildly, Ohica came running from the temple. "Time Lord, Vulcan--quickly--" Shouts and yells cut through the dry air. Like a hoard of ants, figures swathed in black swarmed over the rocks and boulders, attacking from every direction. Silver tipped metal pikes lowered, the demons rushed like a dark tide across the shrine courtyard. Crouched, Spock aimed, firing a wide field stun burst from the phaser. The ones in its path fell only to be replaced by more. There were too many. The Doctor sent one attacker flying over the warp pod to crash into another. "We're outnumbered. Retreat!" he shouted, backing away from the enemy. Suddenly, a mental burst of fear and horror came from behind them. Spock spun to see Ohica bearing down on two of the enemy. Hand outstretched, she projected abject terror deep into the enemy's heart. Quickly, he blocked perception, but the momentary distraction made him an open target as an attacker bore down on him. "Spock!" the Doctor yelled. He dove, knocking the Vulcan backwards as the assailant flung the javelin. It whistled sharply overhead as they rolled to a stop. Ohica reached them, grabbing for their hands. Contact! A command flashed from the woman's mind, plunging Spock deep into a trance. A soft whiteness isolated him from reality. Time had no meaning. An insulating peace, like that of meditation shut off the world of Karn. Before thought could register, a fine gold rope curled about his hand as he hovered in the balance between now and then. Gently, the tether pulled him upward and he resurfaced from the blank tranquility to which he'd been so abruptly sent. The stark reality of sight and sound returned. The rope was a slender hand that clutched his so tightly that it trembled. Spock, Ohica and the Doctor were huddled in the middle of the courtyard. Scores of lifeless, black garbed bodies lay sprawled and motionless on the ground around them. "Fascinating," Spock whispered, breaking the quiet. A shuddering mental cold hung over the field. Spock did not need to be telepath to know its significance. "A lethal psychic attack. The Sisterhood actually placed death in their minds." He looked at Ohica, whose eyes were now dark hollows and she was very pale. "Yes," she breathed softly. "I had to--protect you from--from our death spell." And she collapsed. The Doctor caught her. "She's exhausted," he said. "Help me get her inside." "What about our equipment?" Spock got to his feet, helping the Doctor lift the unconscious woman. "If there are any survivors, I don't think they'll be back for a while." The Doctor draped Ohica's left arm around his neck as Spock took the right and together they carried the Sister to the now silent shrine.
###
Brilliant spot of colored light dazzled the blackness. Lightheaded, James Kirk felt like he'd just dropped out of warp speed without the aide of a starship. The sparkling dots faded and the next thing he knew, he was standing center stage. Where, he couldn't tell. Shining down like a bright spotlight, a sparkling stationary column of energy held him upright. Beyond its perimeter he could see nothing. He tested the boundary, discovering that the white ray allowed movement, but only within the beam's circle. He rubbed his aching neck, noticing for the first time his manacles were gone. Looking around, he tried to see beyond the brightness, to no avail. In answer to his question of his whereabouts, soft lights glowed, revealing a large vaulted chamber. Directly in front of him sat seven high-backed chairs neatly arranged on a platform. A gilded high-backed chair sat apart from the others, a small stand beside it. Plush drapes and decorative embroidered banners in shades of orange, green and purple dressed the high marbled walls. Kirk had been threatened with many types of interrogation during his voyages, but this set-up left him completely puzzled. What were the Time Lords going to do? Pass a bill to make him talk? The Chamber doors opened and in filed four men and three women. Their elegant floor-length robes moved in sweeping motions as they stepped onto the platform to stand before their respective chairs. Collars trimmed with gold fanned up behind their heads standing out like halos, highlighting each face that looked as stolid as a Vulcan's. Time Lords, he thought. They reminded him of a flock of proud peacocks. From his short service with the rebellion, he recognized the Time Lord chapter colors. The Arcalian greens, Patrexes heliotrope and Prydonian orange-scarlets made the platform a pastel shaded pallette that subdued the wall hangings and that was a feat in itself. None of them appeared as eccentric as the one he had met in the detention cell. And the aristocratic coldness they conveyed was enough to freeze your blood. This had to be the High Council--his jury. Another door opened at the back of the chamber. A stocky man of average height entered, his brown and tan robes denoting a different station in this culture. "All attend Lord President Pandad," the man announced. The Council turned, bowing slightly as a tall, broad shouldered man dressed in white entered. He looked much older than the others, but his steel-gray eyes were clear and sharp. He regarded Kirk impassively as he took his seat in the gilded chair. The Council also sat. Kirk stared back. So this was his judge. The Lord President pushed a button on the stand. "James Kirk, human from the planet Sol 3 in Mutter's Spiral, era twenty three. You are an enemy, yet you come before us requesting an audience. You betray loyalties to your comrades to bring us a message you say is of much importance. We will hear you now." Kirk quelled a sudden impulse to be sarcastic. "Thank you, Lord President," he answered, taking his most diplomatic stance. "First of all, please believe me, I am not your enemy. The fact that I've come to you should prove my intentions are sincere." The Time Lords said nothing, looking on in their arrogant reserved manner that was quickly becoming quite irritating. Kirk took a deep breath and continued. "Your planet is in grave danger. You've seen the rebel invasion forces retreat. Some have even surrendered to you. You think this war is over--that you've won. Don't be deceived. What you see is not what it appears. The Warlord is intentionally retreating, evacuating his forces because he plans to attack Gallifrey with a doomsday weapon that will turn this planet into a ball of dust." There was no reaction. Baffled, Kirk gaped at them. "Don't you understand?" he said. "Your world is going to be destroyed." "We understand your words, human," a Prydonian woman answered. "Give us reason to believe you." "Proof. I have none. All I can tell you is what I overheard in the Death Zone." Disbelief broke through some of those cold expressions. "Death Zone?" the Prydonian woman repeated. "What do you know of the Death Zone?" "That's where the rebel base of operations is located." "That's preposterous," an Arcalian man said. "The Death Zone was sealed by Rassilon himself before his passing." "Then it has some leaks," Kirk replied, barely containing his temper. "Why do you tell us this, human?" asked a Patrex lady. "Because, lives are at stake!" Kirk said angrily. "But then you probably don't care. You've all lived so long you've forgotten what it's like to truly be alive." He cooled his tone down to an even keel. "Something is happening here. Something, I don't fully understand but it stems from here. In my time, Gallifrey is a ruined, dead planet. Your race is extinct. Yet, the Time Lord you hold prisoner is from your future--a future that no longer exists." Nine pairs of eyes settled on Kirk. Each man, each woman, sat silent as though someone had switched off their power of speech. "Do you realize what you're saying?" the Arcalian man asked. "Yes. It's a paradox." "A change in historical events might cause this," the Prydonian lady said. A Patrex man half-turned in his chair. "Or a disruption of the vortex, Kalyn." "But Arn, the magnitude of power it would take to disrupt the vortex would have to be tremendous," she replied. "Or," the Arcalian man said, "he could be lying. He is human. He could've been sent here to tell us this in a feeble attempt scare us." "Jardinn has a point," the Patrex woman said. Suddenly, all began debating the possibilities at once. "Cardinals! Please." The Lord President rose, giving Kirk a harsh stare. "Human, your words are extremely serious. We must verify your story." Pandad turned toward the man in brown/tan robes. "Castellan, I order a full memory scan on the human. Once truth is verified, we'll decide what steps are needed." "Yes, Lord President." The Castellan pressed a switch on his wrist device which opened the chamber's forward doors. A somber Alleran entered, followed by a subordinate. "Captain," the Castellan addressed Alleran. "Escort the prisoner down to debriefing." "Yes, my lord," Alleran said, bowing slightly. The Castellan then deactivated the force field. It felt like a load of bricks hit him when the golden column faded, and Kirk nearly fell. He hadn't realized the spotlight had been a gravitation field. Alleran and the guard caught him by the arms, keeping him upright. "Memory scan?" Kirk gasped, catching his breath. "This isn't necessary. You must believe that I'm telling the truth." It was no use. The Time Lords had already shut him out. He was powerless. He'd done what he could. He could do no more. The guards dragged Kirk toward the open doors. As they reached the threshold, blinding red flashes seared the air. Alleran and the guard dropped Kirk as they crumpled to the floor. On his hands and knees he looked up, surprise and alarm melting to relief when he saw white tennis shoes and garrish orange striped pants legs. Staser in hand, the Doctor stepped over the bodies, his aim never wavering from the Council members. "Everyone, please stay as you are." Uhura stood in the doorway, aiming her phaser at the Lord President. "As you can see, ladies and gentlemen, we won't hesitate to use these." The Time Lords froze in their chairs, looking on, some with fear, some with outrage. Slowly, Pandad's hand moved for the stand beside his chair. "I'd keep away from those buttons, mister," Uhura snapped, "unless you've found a way to regenerate your fingers." The elder straightened, pulling back his hand. Kirk took his cue. Scrambling to his feet, he joined Uhura in the chamber doorway. "You cut that close," he whispered to the Lieutenant. "What kept you?" "We had a stop to make." She handed him his staser. "Took a while to find our gear." Kirk set the dial to stun, joining the offensive. Weapon aimed, he and Uhura backed up the Doctor, who now defiantly faced his people. After a grim moment of silence, the Doctor smiled and said, "Don't worry. They're only stunned. I dislike using weapons, but you left me no choice. I couldn't allow you to needlessly destroy this man's mind." "How dare you intrude in this inquiry!" Jardinn sputtered. "Oh, swallow your protocol," the Doctor said sharply. "I've seen the future Captain Kirk speaks of and believe me it isn't very pretty. He came here to warn you, yet you sit here and play your little political games while the future erodes into nothing. Why not use a little trust, a little initiative for a change? Or was Morbius right? You are frightened of the very power you hold." That comment earned black looks from the entire council. Only Pandad remained impassive. "No comment?" the Doctor asked. "I thought as much." Amazed, Kirk watched the interaction of the Doctor and his kind. The Doctor treated the Council with the same disdain he sometimes felt toward Starfleet bureaucrats and their short-sightedness. Pandad spoke, keeping a level tone. "As a Time Lord, you realize the responsibilities we have. Time is fragile as a spider's web. We must go through the proper channels to ensure chronological balance is maintained. Substantial evidence must be obtained before we can--" "Poppycock! If you don't act soon, there'll be absolutely nothing to worry about--at all! An error has already occurred and that was the death of Morbius. The future time lines are jumbled, decaying as we speak." "Castellan," Pandad said. "What is the time stream status?" "Last report revealed all normal, Lord President," Castellan replied. "Normal?" the Doctor repeated. Gradually, a look of realization changed his expression. "Of course...of course, that's it." He started to back away. "May I suggest you take look in the direction of Karn?" the Doctor said. "You may find it quite interesting. We'll take our leave now. Good day to you all." They backed into the outer hall. Uhura worked the control unit on the wall, and the chamber doors drew shut. With a steady aim, the Doctor fired his staser, the beam welding the metal seams together. Beige coat flaring, he spun, hurrying past them down the corridor. "Quickly! It won't take them long to free themselves. After all, they do have a back door." "You two are a sight for sore eyes," Kirk said as he and Uhura kept up with the Doctor. "But what the devil was that last bit about?" "Time factor," the Doctor snapped over his shoulder in reply. "The Matrix was accurate, after all. The critical event hasn't happened yet." "I have the feeling we're going to Karn," Kirk said. "Absolutely," the Doctor said, heading up a flight of stairs.
###
Steps led down into a cold, sterile atmosphere reminiscent of a morgue. The Doctor pulled his woolen multi-colored scarf closer about this neck, hoping to shut out a chill that came from deep inside him. With guards dogging their steps, Morbius guided the Doctor to the left. The Patrex's bragging was beginning to grate on his nerves. He could care less about this replica of the Panopticon, and the great pains this madman took to build it. Worry crept into his mind, centering on the poor souls used in this scheme. Thoughts of Sarah Jane intruded. What had this megalomaniac done with her? Then there was McCoy, and the appointed meeting place. When he didn't show, he knew the man would come looking for him. A door slid aside and they passed through. The Doctor halted, taking in the stark whiteness of what looked like a coroner's lab. Bright lights glared down upon a shiny floor. Cabinets and glass cases lined the far wall. A grayish metal table occupied the center of the room and one wall was completely bare. "So, Doctor," Morbius said, spreading his hands with great flourish. "What do you think?" Still standing in front of the door, the Doctor casually looked around, not liking what he saw. "Oh, impressive," he said. The doors shut, and the brutish guards took respective positions beside it. "Although I think a spot of lace or a doily or two would make it more homey. Why are you showing me all of this?" Morbius' answer was a smile, his dark eyes glittering with some secret pleasure as he looked at the Doctor. The uneasy feeling mounted with each passing second of silence. The Doctor felt like he was livestock on an auction. Quietly, he awaited a reply. Instead, Morbius ignored the question and started moving about the room. "You're an enigma," he said, stopping beside the bare table. "You appeared out of nowhere. There are no traces of TARDIS residual elements in the vortex network, yet here you are." He planted both hands on the gray surface. "A Time Lord from the future. How did you do it?" The Doctor scratched his ear, and shrugged. "I guess you could say I came by a more direct route." His hands returned to his coat pockets as he met the Patrex's obsidian gaze. "Morbius, you didn't bring me down here to discuss travel arrangements. Make your point." Again that cat-like smile flashed. "You realize we are two of a kind," the Patrex said. "We were both branded as renegades because we wouldn't conform to the High Council's pacifist standards. We wished to change this miserable universe. We got involved and for that we were condemned as criminals." "To a degree, we are alike." "We are a different caliber of Time Lord. We weren't meant to sit and watch. We are achievers." Morbius leaned forward. "Join my cause, Doctor. You would be a very valuable ally." "Join you?" The thought was atrocious. But he wasn't in a very secure position right now. Play your cards right, Doctor, he thought as he casually strolled over to the glass cases, inspecting the vast array of drugs, and instruments filling the shelves. His eyes widened as he recognized some of the labels. Abruptly, he turned toward Morbius. "What do you have in mind?" "I need information. The time lines are closed to me until I gain control of the Eye of Harmony." Hands behind his back, the Doctor casually walked past the glass case as if still inspecting the area. He stopped when the table was between him and the guards and Morbius. He flashed an easy smile. "By information, you mean betray the future?" "I wouldn't call it betraying the future. You would be helping it along. As I understand, it's something you've done many times in your vast travels." "And what would I get in return for my services?" "You would be appointed my chief advisor. You would be answerable to no one but me, the new Lord President." Playing for time, the Doctor acted indecisive, glancing at the guards in front of the doors. There was no other way out of this place. The counters were clean, leaving nothing available to use as a weapon. His gaze traveled across the glass cases lining the wall, finally coming back to the Patrex. "Sorry, Morbius," he said softly. "You can offer all you like. High Council positions, ruling a world or galaxy doesn't interest me. Tyranny gets boring after a while." Anger colored Morbius's face, but didn't show in his voice. "I'm not offering tyranny. I'm offering an equal chance for all lifeforms--not just Rassilon's chosen few. Controlling time, we could prevent suffering, destroy evil before it begins." "And put a chicken in every pot, eh? All sweet talk Morbius. Complete control means stagnation. No mistakes, no one learns which means no growth. We'd wind up with a universe full of mindless sheep." "You dare use the same weak arguments as the High Council?" Morbius pointed accusingly. "You, the one who stole a TARDIS, and fled the indifferent attitudes of your peers, because you couldn't standby and watch. You've meddled in situations that were none of your affair." "I didn't plunder half the galaxy forcing my will on other intelligent life forms." The Doctor crossed his arms, staring hard at the Patrex. "The Time Lords chose total non-interference to let sentient races fulfill their destinies on their own. I always believed their policy was much to the extreme, but I'm beginning to see their reasoning now." "Rot! They're spineless jellyfish." Smoldering fury laced Morbius's words. "I offered them greatness--a chance to be what we Time Lords were meant to be--the molders of time and destiny. They rejected me. Rejected my ideas. Don't repeat their mistake, Doctor." "There's no mistake on who's making the mistake. Don't do this, Morbius. You're a brilliant man. Consider the consequences of your actions. Think of what you could accomplish by directing your energies for the good of the universe." Morbius stood straight, his eyes narrowing to slits. "My plan is for the good of the universe and I mean to achieve my goals through any means available." He paused for a long moment. "Perhaps I can persuade your thinking." He snapped his fingers and one of the brutish guards opened the door. The Doctor's blood ran cold when he saw Leonard McCoy and another humanoid enter. Shadows blocked the features of the biped figure they supported between them. The Time Lord allowed no reaction. Any spark of recognition would endanger the physician and any chances of their escape. Stone-faced, McCoy looked down at the creature they'd ushered into the room. He stood aside, letting the light fall across the young woman. Aghast, the Doctor whispered, "Sarah." Gently, they placed her in a chair. Catatonically, she stared into space. Her long brown hair was pulled back, revealing burn marks on her temples, evidence of the horific device that had been used. A mind sifter. Anger and helplessness gripped him. "Moments ago you spoke of justice for all life-forms," the Doctor said in disgust. "You call this justice?" he snarled. "I also said I'd achieve my goals by any means." Morbius' face was unreadable. "In war, anything is expendable. She meant to keep her secrets, but as you can see, she failed. You know the future, Prydonian, and I mean to know it, too. And like this miserable girl, you will tell me what I wish to know." The Patrex raised a small black wand from the folds of his sleeve, and pressed its only button. Unnatural light blazed from the diamond tip. The Doctor twisted, too late to avoid the beam. It struck hard, freezing him in mid-motion. White aura crackled around him, stinging through every nerve, locking muscle and bone in a rock-hard paralysis. He fought the effects, tried to pull free. Hearts pounding, he stood caught in a half-turn, arms barely raised in defense. "The principle works on physiological electrical fields," Morbius said. "Biomagnetism that jams the motor neurological pathways. leaving the autonomic system untouched. So, you see it's useless to struggle." Amused, he studied the Doctor a moment. "I'd say you have quite a magnetic personality, Doctor." "Spare me the comedy," the Doctor said through gritted teeth. With detached calm, Morbius went over to the pharmaceutical case and searched through the vials. As he selected one, he also picked up a slender, cylindrical instrument. It glittered silver under the bright overhead lamps. There was a snap and click/hiss. While Morbius was busy, the Doctor saw McCoy reach underneath his lab coat. The top of the black medikit at his waist opened. He stopped, when the Patrex turned toward the physician, Sarah and unnamed friend. The move changed into a make-believe itch and the man eased his hand away. Light glinted off a rounded nozzle as he approached, attention centered on Sarah. The Patrex looked down, gently stroking her hair. "Pity. She was such a lovely human. Living, yet not alive." He aimed the hypo for her throat. "Don't!" the Doctor called. Morbius stopped, a hair's breadth from Sarah's carotid artery. The Doctor willed his hearts to calm down. He swallowed hard. He had to do something, think of something quick. Morbius waited. "A change of hearts, Prydonian?" "I'll talk." Morbius backed off. "Excellent." He motioned to McCoy. "You may take her away." Leonard McCoy glanced up briefly as he took Sarah's hand. In solemn silence, he and the humanoid lead her from the room. The door shut softly. "So easy," Morbius repeated, walking over to the Doctor. "Too easy." The Doctor flinched as Morbius grabbed the scarf, savagely yanking it off. The heavy knit hit the floor with a soft thump. "I'm sure you'd tell me lots of things, Prydonian. But then, how would I know that the rhetoric you'd give me would be the truth?" The ascot was jerked free. Buttons popped as the Doctor's shirt collar was yanked aside, exposing his neck. The Doctor gave a wan smile. "I see we have the beginnings of a trusting relationship." He eyed the glittering hypospray. "So, that's not what I thought. What is it?" The icy nozzle pressed into the Doctor's neck with a cold hard hiss. "It's Pentrax." Panic shot through the Doctor. Pentrax! In a mental scramble, he fought for a deep self-hypnotic state. Breath paralyzed, muscles strained, as heat rushed from head to toe. Fire burned through every vein, every artery, consuming his mind as the drug saturated his brain. He gasped, eyes closing. It was too late, damn it. Too late.
###
A strangled cry broke the serenity of the Shrine courtyard. Spock twisted away from the generator in time to see the Doctor stagger from the warp pod and fall to the rocky ground. He dropped the cables he was working with and in three long strides he was kneeling beside the suddenly stricken Time Lord. Choking and gasping, the Doctor clawed at his throat trying to tear the collar and bow tie open. Spock grabbed, attempting to pull the hands away. Gravel dug into his knees as he fought the Time Lord's strength. "Doctor? Can you hear me? What's wrong?" A clammy hand gripped Spock's wrist. Fever sweat covered the Doctor's ashen face, instantly matting salt-gray locks of hair to his forehead, as panic dilated his eyes. One hand still clutching his throat, he drug in a great breath. "Mor--bi--usss..." he hissed, then went completely limp, his hands falling away. A bright red mark appeared on his neck, right under the jawline. At first, Spock thought it to be the bite of a venomous creature. "Doctor?" he said. There was no answer, no reaction. This was nothing physical. Something was psychically attacking the Doctor, paralyzing his mind. But Spock couldn't detect any external source. Lightly, he brushed his fingertips along the Time Lord's right temple. Fire-pain shot through him and he let go as if he'd grabbed a live wire. The Time Lord lay sprawled on the powdery ground, eyes open in a vacant stare. Spock drew in deep breaths, his senses gradually returning to normal. He had to help, try to block out whatever was attacking the Time Lord. If only he could determine the source. He hesitated, his reluctance growing at what logic dictated he must do. This alien, this eccentric stranger--and yet friend--was in danger. Spock took in another deep breath, and closed his eyes in a brief moment of preparation. Gently, he placed his fingertips along the temples, and dropped his protective psychic barrier. Fire flooded the Vulcan. Vision went white, a cry choking in his throat as he absorbed a searing shock of agony that slowly crumbled to numbness. Alien images twisted in perspective, dragging him down into a whirlpool. The mental shield he tried to project buckled. Drowning, Spock grasped a psychic thread, holding on like it was a lifeline. He couldn't retreat, he had to go forward and merged with the Time Lord. Denial rang, but he heard the warning too late. He was the third incarnation. Strength of will dimmed like a dying flame as visions strobed in his brain. Morbius, Dr. McCoy, Sarah Jane, James Kirk, Uhura; sights that came through eyes that were different, yet the same. The source of attack was--himself. Memory surfaced--the Guardian on a dead Gallifrey, a hurricane of time winds blasted him, blinding pain engulfing him when he smashed against the stone skeleton of the Matrix that sent blinding temporal energy through his body. Off-kilter time synch had physically split him into three of his incarnations--one past, one present, one future. He was the past, reaching for his present self. From beyond, the future grabbed hold, fighting with what strength he had left. In a bizarre tug of war, yesterday and tomorrow fought for today, but it was too late. The deadly truth drug, Pentrax had claimed its victim, and they succumbed to its influence. In a far away place, a room wavered in and out of existence. A hard cold metal surface drained the heat from his body. Only the white light filling his eyes stayed constant. A dark shadow eclipsed the brightness. A piercing black gaze moved into view, penetrating the drugged haze. He knew that face. Morbius....was alive...was the Warlord. He drifted on a cloud of tranquility he knew was false, but he no longer cared, no longer fought the neurotoxin. "Who sent you?" Morbius's voice rang deeply. "The Guardian of Forever." There was a scowl. "Why are you here?" "Fractures in time. Time dies...." "Elaborate." "Two realities cannot exist in the same continuum. Historical paradox...time collapsing...." Morbius paused, his scowl growing deeper. "Explain. Tell me the true history and what it says of Morbius." Snatches of anger surfaced through the deadness. "Murderer...sought control of time itself." He took a deep breath. "Incited the ordinary populace--of Gallifrey. You--destroyed whole generations...of Time Lords and ordinary folk." He closed his eyes. Weariness ensnaring his thoughts. "And?" The Doctor jolted back to awareness. "You were--driven from Gallifrey...fleeing into the galaxy. The Time Lords hunted you down... cornered you and your blood-thirsty allies on Karn." "And then what?" Dully, he stared up into the Patrex's face. "Final battle left Karn in ruins. The--Sisterhood captured you. The Time Lords tried and executed you on the planet where your defeat took place. Vaporized...branded, the first of our kind...." Dark rage burned in Morbius face. "Lies. Twisted words." Hate radiated from that deep chilling voice. "Those bastards rewrote history to suit themselves." Icy fingers turned the Doctor's face toward that black gaze once again. "And the alternate history?" Morbius demanded. His numbed mind clouded. "Alternate history...." He struggled to think straight. "Time cycle was altered...allowing you to destroy Gallifrey. It set off--destructive chain reaction. The time stream split, splitting again--and again. Future crumbles--like a castle of sand." A hint of a smile came though. "Even if you win, you lose." Morbius let go. A look of dreaded realization on his face. Abruptly, he pivoted and the light burned bright again. Eyelids drooping shut, a lost and hopeless feeling pervaded him. That which was Spock struggled to break free of the Time Lord's mind, but the meld was too strong. He was trapped, sinking back into the multifaceted Gallifreyan personality. The fourth self stirred, sensing the 'other' contact. Faint hope flickered as he mustered all remaining strength, and concentrated. Schematics of an antimatter missile and the coordinates of Gallifrey, focused in his mind's eye. The last image was of Morbius as the visions broke up, graying out into emptiness. A final message died before it could form, as a netherworld sea closed over him. Somewhere through the horror, a ghostly hand touched Spock/the Doctor. A protective wall of psychic energy blocked all sensory input. The energy feathered out, to wrap about him like a cloak, lifting them away from a horrible abyss, separating Vulcan from Time Lord. His sense of individuality strengthened, and feeling seeped back on the physical plane, erasing the void. Spock opened his eyes to see a shadow blocking the sun. It was Maren. "What did you see?" she asked softly. "Quickly, show it to me." Drained, he couldn't have fought her if he wanted. Her bony hand rested on the side of his face and instantly she knew what he had experienced. "So all was a lie." Her voice was like cold steel. "Morbius lives. The prophecy has begun to unfold." Spock covered his face with his hands, rubbing his aching eyes. Kirk, Uhura and McCoy were alive. They were alive! But he had no way to reach them, nor warn them about the danger they all faced for sake of the future. Tired, he leaned forward. It was then he realized two Sisters had been supporting him. With a shake of his head, he tried to clear his mind. Rest, he had to rest, but there was no time. Ohica knelt, offering him a phial. "Here, take this. It will renew you." Spock looked at the tiny jar of amber liquid. "The elixier?" Ohica nodded. "What about the Doctor?" he rasped. "Drink," she said. "You are wasting energy." He complied. The fluid stung sweet against his tongue. Amazingly, he felt his strength quickly return. Two more Sisters helped the Time Lord to sit up. Patches of dirt clung to his green velvet jacket and black trousers. He looked exhausted. Rubbing his forehead, he whispered. "Great heavens, it all makes sense now. All of it." He reached to the Sisters. "Please. Help me up. I must hurry. So little time left." The women helped him to stand. Spock rose, joining in assisting the Doctor. "We must go to the fort," he said, "and stop Morbius from firing that missile." An odd light glinted in the Time Lord's blue eyes. "No," he replied so soft his voice was barely audible. The Vulcan felt a moment of disbelief. "I do not understand." The Sisters gathered around them, looking on in grim silence. He gripped Spock's arm. "You saw what I saw. Therefore you know the Matrix divided me, sent me to the critical points of this period in hope of correcting the errors. We've all got our parts to play. The shrine must be preserved so the future can take place," the Doctor said somberly. "As much as I want to go, I must stay here and finish what we've started, no matter what it costs me." What color he had left drained from his face. "Excuse me," he whispered and pushed past Spock, heading directly for the temple. "Sisters, attend him," Maren ordered. Understanding dawned on Spock as he watched the women hurry after the Time Lord. The Gallifreyan's parting words repeated in his mind, ...no matter what it cost me. Somberly, Spock stared at the shrine, examining the ghostly feelings of the mind touch. "The Doctor's fourth incarnation is dying. He means to sacrifice himself." "The Doctor is an entity of time," Maren said. "He knows how the invisible threads of time weave together, how his existence meshes into its structure." "But I and my friends are not temporal beings. In this scheme, we are at most random elements." "More like deciding factors," Maren replied. "We are all creatures of time. It is intangible, but very real. We are born into it, move through it. Today evolves into tomorrow, leaving yesterday behind, and none can survive without the other. We only know now, the present. In your heart you know and have accepted your place in time, but you have yet to understand it, as you still often wonder why were you born." Spock turned sharply toward the High Priestess. He felt no psychic touch, yet this old woman seemed to see into his soul. Maren gave him a knowing glance. "That answer will come to you--in time." She hobbled toward the temple, and without looking back, she said, "You have a heart as well as a mind, Spock of Vulcan. Use both to temper your decision because your actions will determine the future." Then she disappeared through the Shrine's dark doorway. For once, Spock was at a loss. What the old woman had said wove a complex philosophical web. He looked at the equipment, then bent to pick up the cables. He contemplated the fibrous conductors a moment, then started connecting the generator to the drive unit. He would stay, no matter what the cost.
###
Supporting almost his full weight, Kirk and Uhura half carried the semi-conscious Doctor down a long Panopticon corridor. Commotion echoed through the halls as the Chancellery guards closed in on them in hot pursuit. The fugitives ducked through a side door, stumbling through semi-darkness. Kirk tried for a better grip on the Time Lord, but it was as futile as trying to grasp a wet bar of soap. The Doctor slipped, hitting the floor like an heavy sack. Kirk bit back a curse as they struggled to turn the Doctor around. Uhura grabbed an arm and lifted, and they pulled him behind a metal counter, propping him between them. Except for the sounds of labored breathing, the room was silent. Kirk and Uhura shared a worried look. What in the cosmos had happened? They were way ahead of the guards, heading to the TARDIS repair docks. The Doctor had said it wasn't much farther, when suddenly he had frozen: given a strangled gasp, and collapsed. Kirk looked around. The rows of cases and shelves contained odd bits and pieces of machinery. It might have been a parts room--or a storage facility. For all he knew, it could've been a museum. Whatever it was, they were now huddled in a corner like scared rats. A light tap of boot heels grew louder within the hall. Someone was trying a soft approach, but wasn't very successful. Kirk's gaze darted toward the door, and alarm stabbed his middle. Through the slats of the nearby shelving he saw a stalk of celery lying in plain sight not six feet away. It had fallen from the Doctor's lapel. He tried to will the three of them deeper into the darkness. A faint bleeping noise dotted the quiet. A shadowy figure of a man stopped in the entrance of their hiding place. Kirk held his breath. The shape was that of Alleran, Captain of the Chancellery Guard. Unmoving, Kirk and Uhura held onto the Doctor. Suddenly the Doctor's head reared back, eyes wide. Uhura clamped a hand over his mouth, smothering a cry. Kirk tightened his grip needlessly on the Time Lord. It wasn't movement that threatened to give them away. But the hunter had heard, as the silhouette was now creeping toward his prey. The energy glow of his charged staser cast a dim light against the floor. Kirk slowly reached for his own weapon, just touching it as the muzzle of the guard's weapon came up, aimed directly at their hiding place. The shrill sound of klaxons filled the Panopticon corridors. Alleran whirled as red lights flashed behind him in the hall. "Invasion force, battle stations!" came the call. "Mobilize all capsules." A Gallifreyan oath punctuated the din as the Chancellery Captain rushed from the room. A pounding vibrated the floors and walls. Garbled voices shouted orders and replies. It was a call to arms. Gallifrey was under attack. A chill crept up Jim Kirk's back at that thought. Horrified, he whispered, "No! The Warlord's doomsday weapon." Eerie whines and growls permeated the area, resounding in the halls like great metal monsters grinding their teeth. Jim Kirk knew the sound of a TARDIS in dematerialization. He'd never seen one, but he'd heard them many times when he'd first arrived on this planet. In moments, quiet resumed. Uhura removed her hand from the Doctor's mouth. Kirk shifted the heavy weight leaning against him to find his arm numb from pinched circulation. Uhura steadied the Time Lord while Kirk knelt in front of them. "Doctor!" he said in a harsh whisper, giving the unconscious man a hard shake. "Doctor. Can you hear me?" Even in the restricted light, Kirk could see the Doctor's paleness, the vacant look in his eyes. "What's wrong with him?" Uhura asked. "I don't know. I'm a starship Captain, not a doctor," Kirk said, wishing like hell that Bones was with them. "I do know one thing. We've got to get out of here. Doctor, can you hear me?" Life flickered faintly. "Antimatter missile...complete. Spock--tell them--" Jim looked at Uhura, then back to the Time Lord. "Spock? What about Spock? Doctor, snap out of it." With low moan, the Doctor leaned forward, a hand running through his straight blond hair. He looked absolutely wrung out. "Morbius isn't dead. He's the Warlord." "What?" "The trouble is deeper than I suspected." The Doctor struggled to his feet, bringing a bewildered Kirk and Uhura with him. He swayed as if intoxicated, looking for the door. "We've got to go. We've got to stop them before it's too late." He lurched forward, Kirk barely stopping him at the exit. "Go where?" Kirk grabbed his arm, pulling the Doctor about face. "For what? What happened back there? What about Spock?" "Too many questions," the Doctor gasped. "No time to explain. We've got to hurry! We've got to intercept. They won't stop him. I know it!" He pulled free, stumbling into the hall. Staggering like a drunk, he weaved down the corridor. "He looks drugged," Uhura said. "And acts it too." "Do you think it's wise to stick with him?" "It's either that or face the High Council of Time Lords." "Great choice we have here." "Beggars can't be choosers. Come on. We can't afford to lose him. He's our only ticket out of here." The Doctor led them into a chamber twice the size of the Enterprise shuttle hangar. The floor was marked in large square sections, and open work bays lined the walls. The Time Lord swiftly crossed the expanse to a closed cubicle and jammed a thumb against a pressure plate. "It should be here. This is where I first found her." The opaque doors slid aside revealing a dark blue rectangular box the size of a walk-in-closet. White lettering above the door was in English, reading 'Police Call Box.' The Doctor smiled softly at the object. "An ancient communication device?" Uhura asked, obviously bewildered. Totally mystified, Kirk said, "Have you lost your marbles? How is this going to help us?" "Looks can be deceiving, Captain." The Doctor frantically searched his coat pockets. "This is a type forty space/time capsule. It was in for minor repairs. The chameleon circuit had jammed and the technicians never could get her to change her form. Otherwise, she operates just fine." He tossed a small pouch at Kirk. Jim caught a small but rather heavy draw string purse with one hand. "And, I assure you," the Doctor continued, "all my marbles are in one bag." Producing an odd looking key, he inserted it into a slot. The door opened, and he went inside. Uhura curiously looked at the leather pouch. "What did he give you?" Kirk poured several round glass nodules into his palm. "What the--? A sack of cat's eye marbles," Kirk said wryly, holding one to the light. "Excellent condition for an antique collection." "Come on you two. Move!" called the Doctor. Kirk shrugged, and with a courteous gesture, ushered Uhura inside.
###
It is said time heals all wounds, but if time can't heal itself, what then? Numb, the Doctor drifted aimlessly in a gray wasteland between apathy and caring. He couldn't remember how or why he was here. There was something terribly important he had to do, but what? Each time he tried to remember, poisonous feelers gripped tighter around his body, squeezing and draining his dwindling strength, shoving him back into that weightless vacuum. He couldn't move, feel, or see. A horrible thought occurred--maybe he was dead. A 'whoosh' sounded somewhere in the distance. The click of boot heels on stone drew closer, and a faint human scent pervaded the sterile air. Wisps of reality came back into focus and to his surprise, he found he wasn't really dead. The discovery should have made him happy, but he felt no emotion at all. A hand gripped his chin, tilting his head to the side. Fingers probed, touching along his neck. Pain bit down when the bodyless fingers hit a sore spot. He gasped at the sharp sensation, homing in on it. Follow the pain, he thought. He had to get out of this thoughtless wilderness. With great effort, he opened his eyes. Perspective bent, warped in almost-holographic transparency. A human male bent over him, the dark brown hair and soft blue eyes stirring a faint memory. Blue fabric shone through the opening of the light green lab coat the man wore. He struggled, fighting to recall the human's name. The Doctor stared up into that solemn face. A soft whirring noise invaded his awareness. The human held up something to the bright light that glinted small and silver against the flesh of his hand. "Damn," he said softly. "McCoy..." the Doctor mouthed helplessly, feeling himself start to slip back into the realm of nothingness. "You," a rough voice boomed from somewhere behind McCoy, jolting the Doctor back to reality. "What are you doing here?" McCoy turned toward the voice. "What the hell do you think I'm doing?" he retorted. "The Warlord wants documentation on the drug's effects on Time Lord physiology." "I received no sssuch directive." "Well, I did. It came straight from the top. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to get on with my work." The voices grew fainter, like that of a bad telephone connection. The Doctor smiled to himself, wondering if telephones had been invented yet. His eyes closed, bringing relief from the bright overhead lights. "I must have verification. Thessse prisonersss--" "It was sent down." "I did not recei--" "Look, you--if we keep dancing around here wasting valuable time, I'll miss some vital information. Why don't you go look for that missing order? Or maybe we could go straight to the source. I'm sure the Warlord will love to know how well received his orders are in this department." There was a hesitation. "Very well," came the reply. "Proceed." A soft 'whoosh' signaled the doors had closed. "Doctor," McCoy called. "Doctor?" He couldn't answer, couldn't move. Time was again standing still. A click-hiss punctuated the quiet. His eyes opened just enough to catch the metallic gleam of the hypospray as it pressed against his neck. No other sensation registered in his dying nerves. McCoy sighed. "If this doesn't kill you, the poison in your body will." At first there was nothing. Then the Doctor blinked, winced. Nerves began to tingle in his hands and feet, sending sensations curling up through his muscles. Suddenly, his vision doubled. He cried out, his back arching as the painful fires of feeling roared through every nerve. Memory coalesced into vivid images. Sarah Jane sat blank-eyed in a chair while Morbius gloated in victory as he injected the poison that unlocked the secrets of the future and sealed the Doctor's death. Inside the Panopticon TARDIS hangar bay, Captain Kirk and Lieutenant Uhura looked on helplessly. Spock had touched his mind. Maren had seen. Drawing a ragged breath, the Doctor lay still. Hands grasped his shoulders, a voice called his name. The muzziness dissolved into clear, sharp pictures. The missile, Morbius, Sarah Jane--the poison.... Light pained his eyes. He made himself sit up, the sudden feeling of lightheadedness turning the room gray. Strong hands steadied him and he looked up at a worried McCoy. "I'm--all right," he said hoarsely. "No, you're not," McCoy replied. "I don't have the proper counteragent for what they gave you. All I could do was give you the strongest stimulant I had. It's masked the effects. The Pentrax metabolic poison is still eating at your nervous system. It'll kill you," he said, "unless you do that regeneration bit you talked about on our little hike to this place." "Not this time, I'm afraid," the Doctor said, curiously examining his hands. A queer numbness affected his fingers. They would move, flex, but his sense of touch was null. "As you very well know, Pentrax is a neurotoxin. It inhibits the regenerative processes. Besides, my future self is in this time zone. I'd create another paradox." "Your what?" He ignored McCoy's puzzled frown as his gaze traveled past the physician and he suddenly noticed the nearby cot. Sarah Jane was curled up on it, expressionless as a doll. "They used a Klingon mind-sifter on her," McCoy said, defeat and frustration etching his words. "I can't do a thing for her either." Pushing himself, the Doctor nearly fell going the short distance to his companion. "Sarah," he said softly, looking into her dull brown eyes. There was no response. The spark that was Sarah Jane was gone. "Damn you, Morbius!" he whispered in cold fury. "We've gotta get out of this place," McCoy said. "Now." Staring at Sarah, he said, "I can't." "Yes, you can." "I've got to stop Morbius." "How? You haven't a snowball's chance in hell of stopping him. The whole place is on alert. The missile is about to be launched. Our best bet is to get goin' while the gettin's good." The Doctor looked up at McCoy. "The missile? The strike has been ordered?" "A few minutes ago." A nerve-grating buzzer sounded from the intercom unit, a green light winking on the panel. "Battle stations! This is not a drill. All personnel, battle stations!" The room blurred. Faraway sounds of a time machine echoed in his ears, a hum so familiar, one he hadn't heard since all this started. "No," the Doctor whispered. "It can't be." "Doctor?" McCoy's concerned voice broke the spell. "Doctor?" Looking at the intercom speaker, the Doctor staggered to the door. He slammed the control plate. Nothing happened. Worry creased McCoy's face. "What is it? What's the matter?" "You got in here," the Doctor said. "Can you get out?" "Yeah, the hot-shot's gown I lifted had a pass card on it. But if you think you're goin' to--" "Just get me out of here," the Doctor growled. Reluctantly, McCoy handed him a plastic card marked with peculiar indentations. He jammed it into a slot and the doors parted with a pneumatic hiss. Pausing halfway out the door, he said hurriedly, "Take Sarah and go to the Shrine of the Sisterhood as fast as you can. Take a due east route out of the city. You'll see a barren yellow-brown range of mountains not far from here. Follow the footpath leading to the tallest peak and you'll find them. Hurry!" "But--" The Doctor ran down the corridor. He had no time to talk, no time to explain. He had to reach Morbius's control room, or in minutes, the present would become less than a memory.
###
Morbius worked silently at the main station in his control center. The course was plotted and being programmed into the missile by central control. A little-used time corridor would now deliver the deadly present to Gallifrey. The Patrex leaned back to look at the tracking scope. No activity registered on the screen. He took a deep breath. The strike path from Karn to Gallifrey had to be clear. If the antimatter missile detonated within the vortex, then the future the Doctor spoke of would come true. Chaos and destruction for all existence would reign. But now that he was forewarned, he could ensure the safety of the time stream. Attention turned to the collective data board. A power indicator rose too slowly for his liking. He snapped a switch down. "Blockhouse. What's the delay?" "Energy climb is at maximum, my lord," a man replied. "Any faster could damage the warp gyros in the booster." "We have eighty nine percent power. We must launch now, while the vortex is empty." "Premature launch is too dangerous. We've barely had time to implement the new computations. If we use less than ninety eight percent power the dematerialization circuit would fail--sir." Morbius pounded a fist on the arm rest. The subordinate was right. He had to wait, but these last seconds seemed longer than the hundreds of years he had waited for his dream to become reality, for his lust for vengeance to be satiated. "Correlate. I'll wait for your signal." He snapped off the intercom, and took a deep breath. One monitor displayed the long red and silver missile in its silo. Time interface would carry the dangerous antimatter payload through the vortex to Gallifrey. Upon the planet's destruction, the enormous energy of the Eye of Harmony would be unleashed. Like Omega and Rassilon had done centuries ago, Morbius would direct that energy to his receiving tower on Karn. Once the Eye of Karn burned bright, a new race of Time Lord's would begin. He smiled. The Doctor's revelations had averted a catastrophe. Morbius certainly didn't want to reign over chaos. No, the future was about to step onto another path, a better planned path of his creation. A 'bleep' sounded from Blockhouse control. The gauges now reflected ninety-five percent power. Morbius pressed a button and an LED counter lit with the number 300. Computer command set relays to arm the warhead. Indicators continued their climb and his thumb poised over a large square button. Once pressed, he had to quickly get to his TARDIS. Timing was crucial and he had to be in the right place over Gallifrey or the power of the black hole would lost forever. Behind him, the doors burst open. Morbius spun, a reprimand dying before it could be spoken. The Doctor stood in the doorway, pointing an accusing finger. "Press that switch and you'll doom the entire cosmos." Amazed that the Doctor could even stand, Morbius scrutinized his adversary. What was this Time Lord made of? He should be dead or at least close to it. A sheen of sweat glistened on the Doctor's face, and the red welt on his now scarfless neck was changing to a dark blue. Morbius rose, hiding the LED. "You're wrong," he finally said. "I've studied the possibilities. My mistake was in not checking the vortex. Thanks to you, the disaster will be avoided, and I'll be doing the universe a tremendous favor by ridding it of those spineless self-centered fools." The Doctor swayed slightly as he took a step forward. "The destruction of the Eye would tear time and space. You'll condemn millions to death." "You defend the very ones who castigated you, treated you like a criminal." Morbius placed his hand closer to the pressure plate. "Such blind loyalty if I ever saw it." "It's not loyalty I speak from. It's common sense." Morbius took a furtive glance at the power indicator. Ninety-nine percent. "Under the truth drug, you revealed that I would be captured and branded the first of our kind to be executed. Well, that's not how history is going to read because it will never have happened." A double 'bleep' sounded and he jabbed for the button. The Doctor leapt, knocking Morbius backwards. In a tangle, they fell, rolling away from the console. The Doctor's hands were hot as they crushed about his wrists jamming them to the floor. Pinned, Morbius' fury exploded. "Are you mad? The missile is primed--" "And it'll go off inside its silo, taking Karn with it, right?" There was manic determination in the Doctor's fever-bright eyes and he smiled a wicked smile. "A fitting end, eh?" "No!" Morbius broke the hold, flipping the Time Lord off him. The Doctor crashed into a console as Morbius scrambled for the computer control. A booted foot lashed out, catching Morbius by the ankles. He faltered and the Doctor caught the Patrex by the hem of his robe, yanking hard. Fabric ripped as Morbius twisted, kicking. His boot connected with the Doctor's chin, sending the Prydonian sprawling back. Panting, he reached over, thumb pressing the red square down. The silo opened, blooming like a lethal flower. A roar of thunder shook the fort, earth trembling from the exhaust blast of a powerful rocket. Silently, the LED digits started to decline. Monitors snapped to external view, showing a long red and silver rocket lift from a cloud of white smoke and orange flame, cutting a deadly path of glory into the sky. Pride glowed from within as he watched. Dazed, the Doctor raised up on an elbow, and wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth as he too, watched the tool of destruction rise from its metal cocoon. Morbius looked down at the Doctor. "Your time has come to its end. A new order shall reign. It's a shame you won't be part of it. You would have been an excellent ally." He yanked a key from the control panel and headed for what appeared to be a closet. Stepping inside, he strode to a central column and pulled down a lever. The whines and groans of dematerialization filled the room as his TARDIS headed for the brink that separated time and space. Once the rocket reached the upper atmosphere, it would enter the time vortex and he would follow, materializing into space at the precise moment to funnel the unleashed power of the Eye. Victory was within reach, and while he worked, he'd watch Gallifrey burn.
###
James Kirk stared hypnotically at the repeated gentle rise and fall of the time rotor in the central column of the TARDIS. Time machines and Time Lords, third and fourth incarnations, the Warlord was really Morbius, who was supposed to be dead; an antimatter warhead.... The Doctor's explanation sounded like a nightmare and Kirk wished he'd wake up. The only good news was that Spock and McCoy were alive. They were alive and on Karn. Relief mingled with concern as Kirk rubbed at his tired eyes. It felt like he hadn't slept in years. The thought occurred to him, that he was probably right. Traveling through time, who could tell?
The blond Time Lord bustled around the hexagonal control center, setting this dial and punching that button, his youthful face a mask of concern. The Doctor had done his best to briefly instruct him and Uhura on the simpler functions of this space/time capsule. Kirk glanced at the alien machine's controls. Everything might as well be labeled in Klingonese. At least he could monitor the screens. Uhura seemed to be faring a bit better than himself. Fists planted on the console, the Doctor took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging. "This is the best she can do," he said, patting the console. "And it's not enough. The invasion force has too great a head start." Kirk blinked. The Time Lord was talking about the TARDIS, and he'd called her 'she.' Thoughts of the Enterprise surfaced. "Sounds like you and this capsule are old friends."
He didn't meet Kirk's gaze. "We--are, captain." There was a note of sadness in his words. Kirk's intuition nagged, persisting like a pesty mosquito. There was something the Doctor wasn't telling--something deadly serious. Suddenly the Doctor gasped, stiffening as though someone had stabbed him in the back. Perspiration covered his face, and his blue eyes glazed. Uhura caught him as he swayed. "Doctor?" "It's all right," he breathed, waving Kirk to stay at his post. "Never mind me." "Never mind you?" Uhura said. "You're burning up." "Do as I ask!" he snapped, regaining some of his balance. "Just keep with your work." "For your information, the communications system is reworked," she said coldly. "We can send, but reception is still difficult." "Excellent," the Doctor muttered, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief. "That's excellent." And he started in on the console again. Hand half over his mouth he muttered, "There must be some extra reserve I can tap. But what?" Uhura frowned down at her section of the console. "Captain, Doctor, there's a reading coming in." The Time Lord was right beside her, looking at a gridded scope. Kirk joined them, seeing a flashing red blip move across it. "What is it?" he asked, a sickening feeling growing deep inside. "A high spectrum energy mass lifting off the surface of Karn," the Doctor said, then hesitated, his eyes going wide. "It's the warhead." A chill wrapped around Kirk. "It's begun." "That's not all," the Doctor said. "Its dematerialization circuits are arming. The space/time trajectory puts it right in our path." "Then let's get out of the way!" Kirk said. Furiously the Doctor worked to stop the TARDIS' momentum. His fist slammed the console. "We can't," he said. "To dematerialize at this velocity would scramble us to atoms. If we don't get out of the way we'll still be scrambled to atoms--along with Gallifrey and all of time." The Doctor wiped his forehead, closing his eyes in concentration. "No, there's another way. There has to be. I just wish I knew what it was." "Spock says there's always alternatives," Kirk said, his mind racing. "Then we'd better find one fast, gentlemen," Uhura said, studying the scope. "Estimated time of entry, one minute fifty-five seconds." "Entry," Kirk said. "That's it! We're in a time vortex, a faster version of warp speed. If a starship enters warp with a matter/antimatter imbalance it creates it's own pocket. A wormhole--a place outside of time and space." "Excellent idea," the Doctor said, "but there's one problem. Neither the TARDIS nor that rocket is warp driven." Uhura's eyes brightened. "But, wormholes occur when the time/space interface vibrates unevenly." Uhura looked from one man to the other. "Sound." "Yes." The Doctor nodded. "A temporal vibration." Uhura ducked under the TARDIS console. "Simple rerouting. Start directing all power to the comm board. In a minute this baby will be singing like a bird." "A minute should be just about right," the Doctor said, as he worked the boards. "One minute, thirty five seconds to be exact." Seconds ticked by like years. Kirk watched the blip draw closer. "One minute mark," he announced. The Doctor set a series of dials. "This has got to work," he said. "We won't have a second chance. We must transmit exactly at entry to draw it into the wormhole with us. Too late and we'll be history all over history." Uhura resurfaced, immediately working the buttons of the communications console. "Cross channel bleed set. Audio-transponders are set to highest possible frequency. Ready for broadcast into the vortex," Uhura said, her eyes going from Captain Kirk to the Time Lord. "You realize this blast could tear our eardrums apart." "We've no choice," Kirk said. The counter numbers fell. The TARDIS vibrated as it slowed. "Thirty seconds," he announced. "Twenty--ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two--" "Now!" the Doctor said, yanking two levers down. Uhura hit all relays. A high-pitched mechanical scream split the air, growing louder, higher, vibrating through the decks and walls of the time machine. Lightning pain tore through Kirk's eardrums, knifing from his brain, going down his spine. Agony contorted his face. Hands to his ears, he sank to his knees, fighting to keep balance. Uhura staggered against the wall, gripping her head, mouth open in a scream he could no longer hear. Images doubled, tripled as time synch blurred, shaking the floors, the walls, the console, as the TARDIS burst into a nova of sound. Silently, everything moved slow motion in the crazy tilt of time imbalance. White knuckled, the Doctor clung to the central column. Slowly, painfully, he sank toward the floor, his grip sliding from the levers he'd vainly tried to push up. Uhura's knees gave way and she too, gradually descended to the deck. As if moving through molasses, Kirk reached for the levers. His pulse pounded inside his head, threatening to split his skull. He had to push up those levers. Blackness collapsed sight down to tunnel vision, as his fingertips touched the levers. And that was last thing he knew.
###
Morbius poised his tt-capsule on the brink of transition, that calm area between the time vortex and normal existence. In the quiet solitude, he watched, smiling triumphantly as a green light flashed on the sensor board. The missile was now in the corridors of time. Then he saw the vortex scanners, and his victory turned sour. "No! This can't be!" A lone TARDIS was speeding on a collision course with the anti-matter warhead. He scrambled for the controls, jamming the trimonic key into the slot. Morbius reached for a lever on the central column. Abort in vortex would destroy the continuum. If it strikes a TARDIS in flight, it would be the same. "I've got to stop it," he said, frantically setting the remotes. "Abort outside the corridor. Rematerialize...." Suddenly Morbius' time machine bucked, a tidal wave of sound cascading through the capsule. Space and time twisted violently, a high pitched scream saturating the continuum planes. He screamed in pain as everything went silent white and he grabbed the console edge, riding the turbulent wave of decibels. Time synch wobbled as the wounded vortex fought to right itself. Stability pulsed, focusing, blurring, slowly falling back to normal. Did it explode? He was almost afraid to look. Sight clearing, he dared a glance at the console and his mouth dropped open, shock turning to disbelief. The vortex was constricting like a punctured balloon. Dimensional reality still reverberated like a huge chime, strobing in and out. The missile appeared, then faded, reappearing again as it materialized out the vortex back into the skys of Karn. "No," he murmured, gripping the console. "The disrupted time currents have twisted backward. All that I've worked for, built up. I've got to stop it." He pulled a lever down. Nothing happened. Desperately, he boosted the power, but his TARDIS didn't budge. Frantic, he tried to detonate the warhead. Again, nothing. His fist smashed against the console. "Imbalance has shut the vortex. I'm trapped between time and space." He eyed the displays of now plummeting rocket. When it exploded, half of Karn's atmosphere would be ripped away and he didn't want to be any where near when that happened. He cut all unnecessary systems, routing the extra energy to the console. "This has to work," he said, pulling down on the reset levers. His TARDIS shuddered, circuits frying, consoles spewing sparks. The stench of burning plastic filled the control room as the machine strained against the forces of time itself. It was moving. The continuum was relaxing. Energy crackled through the central column like lightning. Gravity pulled heavily in a phantom sensation of falling. His throat constricted in fear. Only one thing could cause that sensation. A grating sound shrieked through the machine: a transduction beam. Another TARDIS had swallowed his like a phagocyte. He glared at the sensors, black hatred filling his soul. The Time Lords had found him. But how? How did they know where he was? The Doctor's words echoed in his mind. "You were captured, tried, and executed. Vaporized...." "I won't be defeated," he hissed. "I swear it." Punching a button, he transmatted a message capsule into the vortex, coordinates Sol-3, time and place already encoded. Melhendri Solon would receive it and know what to do. The nerve racking sound stopped. Soon, his enemies would break the lock. Morbius pressed down on a red button, and the doors swung wide open. He stood straight as a board as he turned toward the entrance. He would calmly face the Time Lords. In the end he would cheat them of their victory. His dream was not dead yet.
###
Head in his hands, the Doctor bent over the control center console. The missile had disappeared. He'd failed to stop Morbius. He'd sealed the fate of universe and there was no turning back. Time would be changed to Morbius' ways. He shuddered at the thought. A strange ringing in his ears plagued him. It was probably the effects of the Pentrax returning. McCoy's stimulant was wearing off. Vision blurring, he kept a tenacious hold on concentration. Feeling leeched from his hands, creeping up his arms. Motor coordination grew more difficult, and the ache in his jaw was slowly vanishing. Soon, he would be helpless, his nervous system destroyed making regeneration impossible. He would die and his fifth self would never exist. Ironically, he hadn't even been born yet. Information spewed across a screen. Scanners glowed, the screens flickering with snowy interference. History couldn't be changed--can't--shouldn't be, but it was about to happen. The sounds of footsteps made him look back. In the doorway stood McCoy and Sarah. The physician had shed the light green lab coat. The sight of the two humans brought a mixture of emotion. He was glad, yet pained. So much had happened, so much was yet to occur, and their future looked rather bleak. The Doctor tried to muster a frown. "I told you to go to the Shrine of the Sisterhood." "We'd never have made it--Sarah, that is," McCoy said, guiding the woman into the room. "And, besides we couldn't leave you behind." McCoy shrugged, adding, "God knows why." The Doctor smiled tiredly, briefly touching Sarah's unresponsive hand. His strength was fading as he could barely grip her fingers. "Must be my magnetic personality. Too bad I can't use it to attract that missile." "I saw it go," McCoy said softly, noting the exchange. He reached for his medi-kit. "Save it," the Doctor said. "That potion will do me no good." After a pause, he added, "You wouldn't happen to have a cypher-indent key in there, would you?" McCoy frowned. "A what?" "Or a trimonic lock pick? No? Never mind. I thought you wouldn't." Thoughtfully, he looked up at the clear tracking scope. "I wonder why Morbius used this approach. A rather primitive method, wouldn't you say? If I were doing this, I'd have used a TARDIS. But then he only had his capsule. He could have built one, but that would take too long. And using the time scoop would be too risky. I wonder how he's going to get this thing through the transduction barriers of Gallifrey?" "I don't believe you," McCoy said incredulously. "Do you realize your talkin' about your home world?" "Unfortunately, yes." "My God, the universe is about to come down around our ears. What can you possibly accomplish by thinking like that?" "Think like the enemy, and ninety percent of the time you'll out guess them." The Doctor absently stared at the computer board until it became a mass of undecipherable shapes. "Though it looks like I've landed in the other ten percent. Does Mr. Spock really believe there are always alternatives?" "Spock?" McCoy asked sharply. "Captain Kirk said he says that." The Doctor snapped out of his trance. Sarah's hand was resting on the Doctor's arm. The nasty ringing in his brain had stopped and for some reason he looked at the tracking scope. It flashed red as the sensor sweep came around. A white dot appeared traveling rapidly across the grid. An object was falling from the heavens. He swayed as he reached across the console, barely managing to direct the scanning beams. He blinked when he saw the read out. "You should have gone to the Shrine," he told McCoy. "Why? What is it?" "The missile. I don't know how, but it's been deflected." He leaned back in the chair. "And it's headed straight back at us."
###
Spock faced east, away from the setting sun. The force field generator's half-joined cables lay forgotten at his feet as he watched the dissipating silver white vapor trail fade in Karn's sky. His future, his world, and the fate of his friends would fade like that smoky streak. The final grains of sand were falling through the imaginary hourglass. Time had left no alternatives to this situation. The scrunch of sand underfoot sounded harsh against the quiet. He didn't have to turn to know who it was. "I'm sorry," the Doctor said softly. "We tried," Spock replied calmly. "That is all we could do." The Time Lord's black Inverness cape fluttered in the dry breeze as he moved to stand beside Spock. A look of deep pain creased his noble features as he gazed into the turquoise sky. "I failed." "You cannot assume total responsibility. All of us were involved." "But I was the one who let my self-confidence and ego foil our efforts. I got careless. If my fourth self had used more caution--maybe...." "Maybes have no effect on what has already transpired." The Doctor allowed a small smile. "Spoken like a true Time Lord." A chanting rose from within the shrine. Sacred fire, sacred flame, the Sisters repeated, summoning their psychic power. Spock wondered why. What good would it do now? The missile was gone. The Sisters voices carried high. The fires in the temple burned brighter, stronger until the building glowed in ethereal light that pierced the twilight like a beacon. An abnormal chill spread through the air, a desert draft gusting cold from nowhere. Ghostly tentacles spiraled around Spock, swirling upward. Not knowing why, he looked at the sky. A white point glowed where stars had yet to shine. A strange light glittered in the Time Lord's blue eyes. "The warhead," he said. "Impossible," Spock said. A feeling Jim Kirk would have termed intuition flashed. Illogical, but it was there and he knew the Doctor was right. "The force field!" He spun for the cables, the Doctor matching his move. Kneeling they worked between the power generator and propulsion unit. "Clamp this joiner to the input socket." Spock handed the end of a thick cable to the Doctor, as he secured his end of the line to the generator. "Ground shunt now in place," the Doctor replied, pulling the length forward. It stopped two centimeters short of its goal. "No! The filaments have frayed." He tugged on the cable. "It won't reach." Thunder crashed, rolling overhead. The missile loomed like a large white hot meteor, plummeting toward the ground. A high pitched whistle cut the air like a sword. Spock grabbed the black cable. "Pull! It's got to reach." Straining, they pulled. Metal fasteners skreeked and groaned in protest as the lines stretched closer and closer together. "Careful. We can't afford to tear it loose," Spock said, as it drew out, going taut. An imaginary clock ticked inside his head. Judging by the rate of fall, it was a matter of seconds. The cables reached, but there was no time to mechanically connect it. A banshee scream flowed down, pitch dropping as the bomb descended like a falling star of death and destruction. "Get to the tricorder!" the Doctor yelled. "I'll hold them together." "You can't," Spock shouted back. "The voltage would kill you." "Do as I say!" Spock grabbed the Time Lord's shoulder. "Doctor!" The sonic howl grew louder, deafening. "Do it! Now!" The Doctor jammed the ends together. "I can't die twice." Time ran out as Spock hit the switch. Thunder exploded on the horizon, rupturing the sky in a blood red fire of annihilation.
###
Head pounding, Kirk forced himself up on one elbow, and wondered why he was still alive. All was silent. Nothing but dead silence and he knew he was deaf. The sonic blast had destroyed his hearing. Painfully, he sat up, surveying the control room. A whispered word startled him, making him look around. He couldn't hear, yet a woman spoke in an aged voice, in soft words that formed inside his head. The soil of Karn shall run red with the blood of the universe and time itself shall tremble. The echoing whisper died in that pool of silence that was now his world. Uhura stirred, a pained look on her face as she tried to sit up. He crawled to her. She was alive, he thought. Thank God, Uhura was alive. She grabbed his arms as he helped her lean against the wall. Dazed, she clung to him like he was lifeline. She met his gaze and then shook her head, pointing to her ears. He nodded. They looked toward the central column. Face down, the Doctor lay crumpled beneath the TARDIS console. Aching, Kirk hauled himself off the floor, and staggered over to him. Uhura followed and with her help, he rolled the Time Lord onto his back. Flaxen hair fell against his ashen face, giving a ghostly illusion, and the Gallifreyan's eyes were open in a vacant stare. Kirk checked for a pulse, but his fingers passed through the Doctor's neck. Startled, he drew back. Uhura gripped his arm. Then it dawned on him. The TARDIS was still in one piece. They should have been annihilated along with the antimatter missile. He scrambled to his feet, leaning against the central column, trying to read the information displays. The Time Lord fleet hovered in vortex over Karn and the missile was nowhere in sight. Cold horror wrapped around his heart as he read the scope. Uhura was beside him, hand going to her mouth. "No," he choked. Karn burned like a ball of fire. Instead of drawing the deadly projectile into a wormhole, they had sent it back to that inhabited planet, to Spock, McCoy, Sarah and the Doctor's third and fourth selves. The room swayed as a sudden wave of dizziness washed over him. He and Uhura clung to one another. A glare of white light shone at their feet. A dazzling sheen had surrounded the Doctor, his body slowly vanishing as though he had never existed. The voice inside Kirk's head spoke again and everything began to sparkle and fade in a rainbow of bright colors.
Good will take its hand from the heavens and fate will hold six stars in her palm.
###
Maren's words echoed in Spock's mind. Sprawled prone, he coughed, choking on the rock dust that was just now settling. He blinked the gritty powder from his eyes, and pushed up on his elbows, looking heavenward, amazed that he could still see, amazed that he was alive in view of the glaring explosion. He stared at the sky beholding a sight that was both horrifying and beautiful. Clouds of super-heated energy roiled in the torn atmosphere. Neon rainbowed webs arched, shooting across a high dome of the negative magnetic energy bubble. Like a huge protective antimatter shield, it held the deadly radiation at bay. Their plan had been successful. The Shrine and the Sisterhood would survive as well as the universe. An absolute calm spread through him, and he closed his eyes. It was certain his friends had not been so fortunate. After-shocks rippled through the ground in the final death throes of a once-living planet. Rocks tumbled, sending more dust in the air. Then quiet prevailed, except for the warp pod module and its power source. Its gentle pulsing thrum filled the area as it continuously generated the field. Spock's eyes riveted on the two machines. The Doctor, or what was left of him, was still in between those units. He rose, steeling himself for the worst as he approached the warp pod. What he saw was not possible. Like a statue, the Doctor sat up right, still holding the now fused cables. The Gallifreyan should have been carbonized, if not vaporized. There was no mark, not even a hair was singed. Amazed, Spock knelt, gingerly touching the Doctor's arm, his hand passing through what should have been solid flesh. A soft white aura enveloped the Time Lord like a cocoon of light. Unblinking, the Doctor whispered, "We won, Spock." His smile as ghostly as the light, he repeated, "We won." And then he went translucent, tottering forward. Spock went to catch him but his hands gripped empty air. The Doctor vanished before he hit the ground. Tiny electrical shocks crawled up Spock's arms, going down through his spine. Everything sparkled with a golden transparent hue and a force greater than the Sisterhood took hold. The island of life that was the Shrine began to fade as Maren again spoke, her echoing words coming across clearer than ever.
Present shall meet past and future, and like a double edged sword shall they cut a path for all of time to flow as one.
###
Maren's voice boomed across the timelessness, piercing the Doctor's numb mind. Realities stretched, twining like cords in a long braid, twisting and turning in a roller-coaster kaleidoscope of sight, sound and sensation. The Time Lord struggled, grasping at an eternal cold that fused time and space. Vivid memories spun in images of reds, golds and blues. Thick silver cables burned hot into the flesh of his palms as a green-knobbed lever slid from another grasp that trembled in a violent sea of intense sound and pain. A chanting filled his ears, psychic fingers gripping his body. He reached for McCoy and Sarah, but they weren't there. Desperation choked his dust-dry throat as the red flash of incineration blotted out everything. Uhura was down and Captain Kirk had tried to throw that damned lever, but the TARDIS' ultra-sonic blast threatened to claim him too. Spock had reached the tricorder, but did he reach it in time? In time! Hands to his head, his mouth opened in an silent scream. Pentrax poisons coursed through his blood, destroying his brain. He couldn't regenerate. Why didn't he get it over with and just die? Like Karn had died--like McCoy and Sarah, vaporized at the ground zero of a matter/antimatter explosion. For a price, they had won. The future would live. And then the chanting started, rolling like thunder across the chaos. Columns of lightning exploded in a network of white branches that sliced through reality. The fractured time streams drew together, merging, currents surging into one course like a powerful river. A powerful bolt cracked down, its hot bony fingers striking him. He arched, paralyzed, temporal energy infusing his body. A white glow burned around him growing stronger, brighter than a nova. A ghostly image of his past self, his third incarnation sparkled into existence. His future self materialized like a blurry specter. Like the time stream, the white glows drew together, superimposing, merging back into one soul. Strength surged, vitality regenerating the spark of existence. A tingle radiated from deep inside, the healing process renewing strength of will. Solidity took hold, and he felt that beat of life inside him. Time phase pulsed strong and steady throughout all reaches of the macrocosm. The brilliance faded, and the next thing he knew, he was falling.
###
Weightless free-fall. James Kirk awoke with a start. Heart racing, he sat bolt up right, gripping the edge of his bed. The planet in ruins--Spock and McCoy, Uhura-- Getting a grip on himself he looked around, listening a moment. Blessed sound! He could hear. The subsonic pulse of the Enterprise was like a heartbeat, a glorious heartbeat he would recognize no matter what. This place--it was his quarters. The dim lighting indicated he was in mid-sleep period and he glanced down at himself realizing he'd fallen asleep in his uniform. The condition alert tell-tale displayed normal. That wasn't right. What about the anomalies? He rubbed his forehead. Memories of another time, another place were too vivid to be a dream, or to be more exact, a nightmare. The lights automatically came up as he went to his desk. The cup of coffee was right where he'd left it. Testing with a finger, he found the liquid was still hot. Everything was the same, but different. Sliding into his chair, he requested the computer to retrieve his last log entry. There was no mention of space/time anomalies, no orders to go to the Planet of the Guardian. Only routine matters like star mapping a newly discovered system named Kasterborus. "Kasterborus?" That name rang a very loud bell. Next he requested the new star charts. Studying them, he leaned forward. The mystery was magnifying by leaps and bounds. This Kasterborus was the exactly where the planet of the Guardian should be. What the hell had happened? The door buzzer sounded just as he reached for the intercom switch. "Come," he said softly. The doors slid aside and there was a moment of stunned silence. "Bones?" Kirk was out of his chair. "Bones! Spock! Uhura!" "Jim!" Equally thrilled, McCoy nearly flew into the cabin, grabbing Kirk, holding him at the arms length. "My God, you're all right!" "Again you state the obvious, doctor," Spock said, hands behind his back. "Unless you believe this to be an apparition." A gleam in her eyes, Uhura said, "He looks very much alive to me." McCoy scowled, but Kirk laughed. "I'm glad to see you--all of you. All of this," he said, indicating the ship. He grabbed Uhura's hand, giving it a squeeze. "Uhura and I, we thought...." His voice trailed off. "It happened, didn't it?" An awkward silence invaded the room. Only Spock retained his usual passive expression. Finally Uhura said in a somber tone, "Something happened." "A lot happened," McCoy said, crossing his arms. "We just saved the entire universe--I think." "I have formulated a theory on what took place," Spock said. "The effects of time on space had precipitated a breakdown. Our continuum was deteriorating because of an event that had gone awry due to our absence. Once the error was corrected, the proper flow of time resumed. With that in mind, we were returned to our proper places." "Yeah," McCoy said. "But without proof, a theory is nothing but a bunch of words." "And," Kirk said, indicating his computer terminal, "not everything is the same. Take a look at this." The star map glowed as Kirk pointed out the change. Spock's eyebrows rose. "This is indeed quite interesting. I wonder what other changes have occurred." "Then you accept it as fact that we went back in time?" Kirk asked Spock. "Unless there is such a phenomenon as collective dreaming, yes." "Then what about the Doctor?" Uhura asked. "What happened to him?" "And Sarah Jane," a very troubled McCoy added. The deck gave a sudden heave, the cabin lights flickering. The computer warning systems blared a red alert, intoning over it, "INTRUDER ALERT--RECREATION DECK FOUR--INTRUDER ALERT--" "What now?" McCoy grumbled. Kirk hit the intercom. "Bridge, what's going on?" "Captain," Montgomery Scott's voice came through the speaker. "An unidentifiable mass just appeared in Rec-4. I dinna know how it got there, but it did and it's solid." "Get a full security team there on the double. I'm on my way." Kirk headed for the door. "We'll have to figure this out later. We'd better see what's hitched a ride."
###
Hand gripping the edge of the console, the Doctor pulled himself to his knees. Running a hand through a tangle of chestnut curls, he stared at the immobile time rotor in the center of the column. Incredulous, he hauled himself up. The TARDIS! He'd know that unmistakable hum anywhere. It was she. Checking, quickly, he found no apparent damage to the capsule--or himself. He looked at his hands, felt his face. He could breathe, see, hear and feel. His fingers traced the tender spot on his neck. His scarf was gone, but that could be replaced. His time capsule was whole. He was whole. In this instance, time definitely did heal. His joy abruptly dashed. "Sarah?" he whispered, looking around, then down at his feet. His companion lay sprawled on the floor. "Sarah!" Kneeling beside her, he felt for a pulse and to his relief found one. Gently, he lifted her, propping her against the rondeled wall. Immediately, she sagged into his arms. "Sarah," he called, lightly patting her check. "Please be all right. Come on, old girl. This is no time for a nap." She stirred, her head lifting. Groggy, she mumbled, "Harry, you call me that--one more time, I'll...." Her eyes opened, going wide. "Doctor?" He gave her a toothy grin. "I knew that would bring you around." An expression of confusion and remembered terror crossed her face. "Ahh! No!" Tightly she gripped his arms. "What's--where--" Sarah glanced at her surroundings. Her fingers relaxed as she met the Doctor's gaze. "I must've cracked my skull a good one. My head feels like it's about to split, and I had such a terrible dream." His smile vanished. "Doctor?" "Hmm?" "Your scarf, its gone. And what happened to your neck?" He considered lying, but quickly shoved that idea aside. Sarah knew what had happened, even at the very end. "It wasn't a dream, Sarah. It was real." "No," she choked, hand going to her mouth. "Yes," he said softly. "We beat the odds and won." He sobered, thinking of the four from the Enterprise. With the time continuum healed, their existence could very well have been wiped away. How much of the universe had changed? "You're thinking," Sarah said. His grin returned. "Yes, I'm thinking of finding out where we've landed." He left her sitting on the floor. Going to the column, he grabbed the viewer knob, giving it a twist. Nothing happened. The cover panels refused to budge. Frowning, he studied the sensors. "Well, it's not Memory Alpha, but it does have an artificial oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere." Sarah rose, leaning against the wall for support. Rubbing her forehead, she said, "Wonderful. That really narrows the field down as to where we are." The Doctor smiled inwardly. Indeed, Sarah was herself again. But what of the time stream? "Well, have you figured out where we are?" she asked impatiently. "No. Why don't we take a look?" He popped a lever up and headed for the opening doors. "Oh, for heaven sake, Doctor," Sarah fumed, staggering after him. "We could be on a Cyber-freighter for all we--" She nearly smacked into him. Just outside the TARDIS, the Doctor stood dead still in his tracks, not believing what he was seeing. A security force of humans surrounded the TARDIS. The golden parabolic symbols they wore over their hearts shown brightly against shirts of red. And he recognized the weapons they held, which were trained on him and Sarah. "Hey, what's the big idea stopping like that?" she groused, until she looked around him. "Oh. That's a good reason." Four more people rushed into the vast room, stopping as though they'd hit a stone wall. A smile of delight came as the Doctor recognized the three humans and one Vulcan. They'd made it! Captain Kirk gaped, eyes riveted on the TARDIS. "I don't believe it." "My God," Dr. McCoy gasped, staring at the two stowaways. "I don't think that's God," Uhura said, grinning. "Nor one of your ghosts, Doctor McCoy," Spock added. "Although, this time I would be more inclined to believe this to be the case." The Doctor turned to his companion. "Sarah, my dear, I think I know what's become of the time stream, and if my guess is right, this should prove to be quite interesting."
###
-- Epilogue --
The fires had cooled as fast as they had spread. The atmosphere was now thin and dark in a radiation winter of after-blast. Karn was a shattered planet. The jagged remains of a once-proud civilization stood like monuments in a freezing cold environment of wind, gray dust and black ash. Only in the temple of the Sisterhood, nestled in its warm mountain home under the protective shield was there any sign of life. Ground zero was nothing but a vast dark crater scarring the terrain. On the outskirts of the blackened maw that had once been a city, nearly leveled ruins flared with eerie light. Superheat had fused an archway into a circle of stone. Blue fire shot through that stone, sending a sign melted almost beyond recognition to the blackened soil. A cloud of dust and ash blew away as a low throbbing hum mixed with the soft howl of the wind. Antimatter radiation fueled it, reviving the intelligence recorded in its memory. Artificial life glowed, fusing with the forces of nature, blending into the rock and metal. Growing stronger, it pulsed, flexing its new freedom. Hungry, it scanned the gray cold, focusing on the fallen sign. MATRIX-DEVELOPMENT CENTER, it recorded and remembered. It knew its purpose now.
Time access engaged and the living machine of a would-be new race reached out across the zones of time. Feeling the pulse of the universe, it began recording the history of all that existed. It called itself, the Guardian of Forever.
The End?