MISSING IN ACTION
Chapter 3 "Doc-tor!" He stared intently into the darkness when he heard that voice. Though the Doctor could not see a thing, he frowned with concern. A unique accent he had not heard since his second regeneration. Sibilant and cultured, yet at the same time it was both alien and guttural. Like some high born courtier trying to speak while someone was strangling his throat. It was the voice of an old and dangerous enemy from his past. A race every bit as powerful as the Time Lords. But, how could that be? The race he was thinking of were long gone. Up until the Last Great Time War began, the Doctor's people normally remained neutral in regards to overseeing the affairs of other planets and species. Despite a cruel and war-like past, the Time Lords became content to only observe the wonders, struggles and changes occurring in all of space and time. They could control the opening and closing of doors to other universes and realities if they chose to, but mostly they were content to merely watch and record what they saw. The Time Lords could have easily become one of the most powerful and manipulative species in the history of the universes. But, somewhere along the path of their evolution, the greatest Time Lord of them all, Rassilon himself, realized the potential trap that lay in coveting the sort of power that their species could wield. A trap that could ultimately lead, not only to their own downfall, but possibly to the very end of time itself. Therefore, instead of succumbing to the temptation of using their power over time as a plaything, Rassilon lead the Time Lords down the path of pacifism. They became the custodians and historians of Time, instead of petty, self-destructive tyrants. Yet sometimes, when either Galifrey or even time itself was being threatened, even the most hardcore element of dovish Time Lords saw no choice but to intervene. Usually, they did so indirectly, using outside "agents" such as the Doctor, to keep their hands clean. In this case though, the crime this race had committed was so serious, that the Doctor's people felt they had no recourse but to personally punish the transgressors. The Doctor's frown deepened, as he remembered how the High Council had so abruptly and arrogantly plucked him away from his companions, Jamie and Zoe. It was right as he'd been treating them to a Pet Shop Boys concert. He unconsciously smiled at the memory. Jamie, whom the Doctor had plucked from the aftermath of the Battle of Culloden, had sat with his arms crossed making a face at all the noise. He said he didn't care for the music because there weren't any pipers in the band. The Doctor had commiserated, saying he thought they could use a recorder in the group, as well. But Zoe, who was from the future, loved it. She clapped and cheered just as wildly as the rest of the young audience. He was about to take the two of them backstage after the concert to meet the band, when suddenly he was whisked away by transmat. Reluctant to help the Time Lords at first, the Doctor soon changed his mind. By threatening to take away his TARDIS forever, the Lord President of Galifrey had blackmailed the Doctor into acting on his planet's behalf. The Doctor snorted in derision. The noise sounded loud in the empty room. He would have interfered anyway, if he'd known up front what it was all about. But, the Time Lords being a devious and secretive lot, had left it up to him to find that out on his own. Which he ultimately did. When the Time Lord's enemy was finally brought to trial on Galifrey, the first consensus of the high council was complete annihilation of the species. Appalled, the Doctor argued passionately against genocide. He won his case, and the species was instead exiled back to the very dawn of time, to the farthest reaches of another universe known as E-space. There, they were to live out their lives on a primitive, uninhabited planet. They were to be confined there until the natural end of time, without any access to any sort of technology, and only the barest of essentials to keep them alive. "Doc-tor, rest assured that you will not be harmed." The cultured, rasping voice spoke again. "We regret any discomfort you may be experiencing. It it for our own safety, not yours." "Blimey," the Doctor replied with a wiggle, testing the cables which bound him, "Then I have to say, your health and safety rules are a bit over the top, if you ask me. I'm trussed up tighter than a Christmas turkey. You must think I'm one dangerous desperado." He paused for a double heart beat, tilting his head. "Either that, or you're planning on stuffing me and roasting me for dinner." "We brought you here, Doc-tor, because we were afraid you would not come if we asked. We feared you would still wish to punish our race, and once again exile us back into the darkness." The voice said. "Seems to me you lot are afraid of a lot of things. Which, unless I'm mistaken—and I rarely ever am because I'm a genius, is known as paranoia." The Doctor said harshly to the unseen speaker. "Though I suppose I can understand why, given your past history." He added, not unkindly. "It is, as you say, our past history which makes us fear you, Doc-tor." The voice said. "We have come so very far. We are so few now, and weary of the chase. The Howling never ceases to pursue us. We have been running for over a thousand years. Now, we have decided to stop." "Stopping is good. Especially if you're on a runaway train. Or driving a Toyota." The Doctor said, tilting his head up towards the ceiling. "I'll tell you what. Why don't you lot untie me? I promise I'll be good. Then we can all sit down to a nice cuppa and a friendly little chat. I'll even go so far as to play mother and serve the biscuits. Oooh, I do hope you have some chocolate biccies. I love those." "You would speak with us?" Said the voice uncertainly. "Yeah, why not? We can pass around the peace pipe and have a nice pow-wow, and can tell me all about your plans. Then, if I believe that you have changed, and you are now the good guys wearing the white hats, we'll saddle up and ride." The Doctor said genially. Then his voice became dead sober. "On the other hand, heed this warning. If I find that you are still nothing but a mob of time-destroying evil megalomaniacs, I'll stop you. Forever, this time." The Doctor's mind was busy trying to work out what this 'Howling' could be, even as he smiled and spoke into the darkness. "So what d'ya say? Deal?" "No!" Came another voice. A female one, this time. "We cannot trust him, Altaar! He speaks falsely, this one. Remember what he and the other Time Lords did to our ancestors!" "Silence, Margatha." Said the original voice. "I am still leader here. I have already made my decision, and it is final. I will trust this man. I will allow the Time Lord to hear our story, and then he will decide of his own free will, whether or not to assist us. If that is alright with you, Doctor?" "Well you see, that would be nice, Altaar old son. Thing is, I do seem to be rather tied up at the moment." The Doctor reminded him. "One would think that allowing me my 'free will' would go down a lot better, if you released me from this cell, mmm—?" Before the voice could answer, the room the Doctor was in was abruptly rocked by an explosion. The Doctor had instinctively ducked. As the debris settled, he sat upright again, blinking his eyes against the sudden glare of light coming through the now open door. "Hello, sweetie!" Came a familiar voice.
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