The Doctor Who 50th Anniversary Ficathon

[swordznsorcery]

http://dw-50ficathon.livejournal.com/

Title: Rebel Rebel
Rating: U (Gen)
Word count: c. 9100
Warnings: None (that I can think of)
Summary: Lots of running about in corridors
Characters: The Eighth Doctor and Destrii



Rebel Rebel

"Don't push." If the guard was not worried by the growled words, then the bright glow of the glaring, pale eyes certainly gave him the message. He jerked back, and with a twitch of her long, green tendrils, Destrii stepped past him into the cell. With his rather less off-putting appearance, the Doctor did not fare so well, and was shoved unceremoniously after her. The door clanged shut.

"Well that was exhilarating," said the Doctor, straightening his cravat. He looked around the cell, eyeing it with the air of a connoisseur. "Hmm. Not bad, I suppose. It's dark, but at least the mould looks friendly."

"It's a dungeon." Destrii prowled about, teeth bared, body tense and primed for combat. "Nobody puts me in a dungeon. Not anymore."

"Try to look on the bright side. It isn't a scaffold, a firing range, or a guillotine." The Doctor turned back to the cell door, peering out of the tiny window embedded within it. Aside from demonstrating the discouraging thickness of the door, it told him little. The cell block was dark and quiet. Not a surprise, given where they had fetched up.

"At least if they were trying to execute us we could fight back," grumbled Destrii. "All we can do here is sit." She eyed the cell's solitary, mildewed bunk, and sniffed. "Make that stand."

"Yes, it's not the most cheerful of places. Typical of the place and time though, I'm afraid. At this period in history, almost all of the galaxy is ruled by a very unpleasant federation. It's known for its ruthlessness. This is probably just a holding area."

"Then we won't be here long?" For a moment Destrii brightened, then glowered. "Then what happens?"

"Execution or slave labour, usually. The government makes a show of justice back on Earth, but this far out they don't bother with little luxuries like trials. Like I said, it's not a nice organisation. It'll fall in time, though. They always do."

"Before or after we get executed?" asked Destrii, with even more of a glare than she had bestowed upon the guard. Unbowed, the Doctor peered once again through the bars of the cell door window.

"Oh, it's not due to fall for about another hundred and fifty years, if I'm right about when we are."

"That's not very encouraging."

"It wasn't really supposed to be." The Doctor stepped aside, and gestured to the window. "You have better night vision than me. What do you see out there?"

"If it's not a key or a laser blaster within reach, I don't think I care." She stalked over towards the door, peering between the bars with a familiar, disgruntled air. "I see the corridor they just dragged us down. And don't think I didn't notice where that guard was trying to put his hands."

"You're not the easiest being to wrestle with politely," pointed out the Doctor, with a meaningful look at her armoured bikini. She shot him a look over her shoulder that was openly flirtatious.

"When it's you that I'm wrestling with, I don't object to the hands." She turned back to the window. "Alright. I can see the corridor, and some other cells. Three, I think. I can't see the one next to us, but there are two opposite, and there's somebody in one of them. Two somebodies, possibly."

"Thank you." Producing his sonic screwdriver from one of his voluminous pockets, the Doctor made a quick scan of the door. "Hmm."

"Don't make that noise. It's infuriating." She appeared at his shoulder, trying to get a closer look at his readings. "What is it?"

"Just basic structural data." He held up the screwdriver, and she frowned as only she could.

"Gobbledegook."

"Science."

That at least made her smile. "Precisely. Gobbledegook. Open the door."

"All in good time. It's a tough one." He bent back to the work, and the screwdriver resumed its humming. "Why don't you try to contact our friends across the way? I doubt they deserve summary execution any more than we do."

"For all you know they're mass murderers."

"They might be." He didn't sound in the least bit discouraged. She sighed.

"One of these days you're going to get us into trouble."

"More trouble than this?"

"Oh, please. Locked up by an evil empire, and awaiting execution? I used to do that all the time. And that was just an average family get-together."

"I know." He flashed her a sad smile, laced with a sympathy that he had come to realise she barely understood. "Still, trouble or not, whoever that is over there, they might be useful. Call them."

"And then what?"

"Oh, you know. Say hello. Chat about the weather. Compare favourite weapons, whatever makes you more comfortable. Then hopefully we can get out of here and back to the TARDIS; ideally before we get executed."

"Makes sense I suppose." Nonetheless there was a reluctance to her movements as she straightened up and turned back to the window. "Although if you ask me, you and I work much better alone."

"I won't leave them behind, Destrii."

"Yes, I know." As so often before, his philanthropy clearly baffled her. All the same, she seemed to question it far less often nowadays. "Alright, Doctor. But if they turn out to be mass-murdering psychopaths, I'm holding you responsible."

"Thank you." This time his smile was dazzling, and at the sight of it she smiled herself, the reluctance fading from her expressive eyes.

"Sometimes I wonder about you. Still, psychopaths are probably an improvement on this place." She gripped the bars, and blinked her eyes to accustom them properly to the gloom beyond their cell. "Hello?" There was a clinking in the darkness opposite, and a moment later a man's voice answered her, quiet and cautious; the voice of a man with many a reason to be wary.

"Hello? Who are you?"

"I am Destrii." The conversation faltered almost immediately, but whatever her social failings, the Doctor's young companion did not give up easily. After a pause, she struggled on. "There are two of us in here."

"Yes, I saw you brought in." There was a pause, intercut with the sound of movement in the cell. "Tell me something. I hope it's not an indelicate question, but... are you a... fish?"

Destrii's eyes glowed. "I am the Primatrix Destriianatos! I could have your head, so choose your words carefully."

There was another pause, before the man's voice came again. "But essentially you're a fish?"

"...Essentially, yes."

"Good." This time the voice carried a note of relief. "I didn't think the guard had hit me that hard."

"Ignore him." It was a woman's voice speaking now, with evident amusement. "He's just looking for sympathy."

"That's easy for you to say. You're not the one with the gun-shaped hole in the back of your head."

"Oh give it up. With all those curls, there's not a blunt instrument in the Federation that could get anywhere near your skull." There was a faint rustling, and a face appeared in the window, black and pretty, the eyes bright in the glow of some flickering light source. "Hello. Destriianatos...?"

"Hello. And it's just Destrii." Destrii gestured to the Doctor, who had appeared at the window beside her. "And this is the Doctor."

"Hello." The woman sounded friendly enough, although her eyes turned towards the Doctor with a certain lack of enthusiasm. "I'm not sure that a medical man is quite what we need right now."

"I prefer to think of myself as a polymath." The Doctor gave the window bars a quick shake. "Have you been here long?"

"Weeks," said the man's voice. The woman laughed.

"About a day and a half. Long enough to get a bit of a look around."

"And?" prompted the Doctor. The man came into view beside the woman then, a shadowy vision of white skin and dark curls. Destrii and the Doctor got the distinct impression that the pair acted as some sort of tag team, a duo well used to each other's presence.

"Complex electronic lock. Beyond our ability to break, unfortunately. The cell block itself, like the citadel it's buried in, it communications-proof, scan-proof and teleport-proof." There was a thump and an answering rattle, the sound of somebody giving the door a good kick. "Bomb-proof too as it turns out. I could almost think it had been built with us in mind."

"It probably was," said the woman. Destrii, had she had eyebrows, would have raised them.

"You tried to blow up your cell?" she asked, with a measure of distinct approval. The woman answered, her voice showing what might have been a certain pride.

"Not the cell. Just the door."

"They didn't disarm you?" Her voice curled up in disapproval. "They attempted to search me, and I barely have room in my clothing for a knife."

"You have two in your left boot alone," the Doctor reminded her, and she shot him a glare.

"That's beside the point."

"Oh, they thought they had disarmed us." The man again, voice lofty in his amusement. "But Dayna here is... inventive. She always manages to have something explosive hidden about her person. I usually walk several paces behind, just in case she trips."

"He's exaggerating," said the woman.

"Teasing," corrected the man, with what sounded like a cheerful smile. "But not exaggerating. Much." Destrii brightened, the prospect of explosives being a heartening one.

"Doctor?" she asked. "That could be an escape plan."

"Bombs are rarely a plan, Destrii. More a gaudy improvisation." He frowned, before turning his sonic screwdriver back to the door. "Still, needs must I suppose." He raised his voice. "If I can get us out of these cells, do you two think that you can get us past the guards? We have transport, if we can be of further service."

"We have transport of our own, once we can get outside of the shields blocking our systems." It was the woman, Dayna, who answered him, her voice bright and interested. "But we've tried to get out, Doctor. Between us, Tarrant and I can be very persuasive."

"I don't doubt it. Let's just say that we all have our own methods of persuasion." He frowned at the door, calculations racing through his brain almost as fast as they were racing through the circuits of the screwdriver. "Clever. Very clever."

"Too clever?" pressed Destrii. The Doctor flashed her one of the winning smiles to which his Eighth incarnation seemed so inclined – and which was also inclined to have unexpected effects upon his cold-blooded companion.

"There's no such thing as too clever." He fiddled with something, and the pitch of the screwdriver's hum rose. A second later something clicked deep within the door.

"Is it done?" asked Destrii. The Doctor gave the door a slight push, and it opened without a sound.

"Barring secret alarms, yes. We're not out of here yet, though."

"I'd like to see the guard who could stop me." She took the lead, advancing into the corridor with that stalking, cat-like tread that reminded him so much of Leela. A warrior, ready to strike out at anything untoward. It was far from his usual style, but he could hardly deny that at times it had its uses.

"Corridor's clean," she told him. He nodded his thanks, amused and perturbed in equal measure by her attempt to play the bodyguard.

"That was amazing!" came Dayna's voice from across the way, and he hurried over to join her.

"So far so good. This place is probably wired though. Expect company quickly."

"Just get us out of here, Doctor. Company is our speciality." The man, Tarrant, appeared in the window beside Dayna, tall and pale to her small and dark, but both with a matching spark to light the eyes. Two of a kind, and it was not the kind to cross. All the same, they seemed to be friendly enough. The Doctor raised his screwdriver to the locking mechanism, and began searching again for the trigger.

"I don't want to worry you," said Destrii, in a tone that implied nothing of the kind, "but I hear footsteps."

"Sorry. It looks as though each door is different." The Doctor flipped the screwdriver to a different frequency, and ratcheted up the power. Tarrant's hands appeared on the bars of the window, as though trying to hurry the process along with enthusiasm alone.

"They won't take the trouble to lock you up again, Doctor. You don't want to be found out of your cell."

"Now why doesn't that surprise me." Escaping so rarely had the good grace to be simple. He fumbled with the screwdriver again, as up the other end of the corridor a door clanged open. It was too dark to see who was coming, but Destrii was ready, slipping a knife from her boot, and weighing it briefly in her hand. The Doctor's eyes widened.

"Destrii!" But it was too late. The knife flew straight and true, guided by whatever sounds she had heard. A grunt and a thud followed, and Destrii turned to the others, glowing with youthful pride. The Doctor glowered.

"Oh relax," she told him. "You're starting to rub off on me. I only hit him with the handle." She buffed her knuckles on one arm, a gesture that she had picked up somewhere on their travels. "Aren't I always trying to tell you that I'm amazing?"

"Wonderful, I'm sure." He smiled in spit of himself, relieved, then turned his attention back to the door. Maybe he was getting through to her after all. Maybe. A moment later came the deep click of the door unlocking and, without preamble, Tarrant gave it a thump.

"Thank you!" He erupted out of the cell like a force of nature, Dayna barely a heartbeat behind. Before the Doctor had had time to think of following, the young man's long legs had carried him down the corridor to where the unconscious guard lay. He bent to scoop up both the man's gun and Destrii's knife, tossing the latter back to her as she came to join him, and flashing her a lazy smile.

"Not bad. Not bad at all."

"I know." She met his smile with one of her own, just as toothy, filled with just as much shameless arrogance and pride. The Doctor, bringing up the rear, raised his eyebrows. This had all the makings of a colourful day – or possibly a disastrous one. Tarrant's smile had vanished as soon as it had appeared, however, and he was peering now around the cellblock door, back pressed hard against the frame. He gave the distinct impression that he broke out of cellblocks on a regular basis. They had a different approach, but in some ways at least, it seemed that the Doctor had a lot in common with his new companions.

"More company," said Tarrant, apparently to Dayna. "Three."

"Do you want help?" She was reaching to her belt as she spoke, but he shook his head.

"Not this time. Too loud. I can handle it." With that he spun suddenly through the door, and the pistol fired three times. There were no shots from the enemy. The Doctor closed his eyes.

"I don't suppose that gun has a stun setting?" he asked. Tarrant obliging glanced down at it.

"Yes. And it's on, so we'll have to be quick. You can never be sure how long a stun burst will last."

"We were hardly planning to dawdle." Dayna stepped past him, collecting a gun of her own. She too checked the setting, and her thumb clicked the little dial to a new position. The Doctor chose not to wonder whether it was now set to stun or to kill. He merely glared at Destrii when she bent to pick up a weapon as well.

"Alright, alright." She let the gun drop, although his relief was muted. She did, after all, still have Rassilon knew how many knives secreted about her person. All the same, he took it as a victory of sorts. Of a different shade entirely were Tarrant and Dayna, moving now as a unit towards the next door.

"Ready?" asked Tarrant as they reached it. They flattened themselves againt the wall on either side of the door, just as Dayna nodded an affirmative. She reached for the control pad on the wall, slamming down her hand, and causing the door to slide open. The pair swung through it side by side, if not quite shoulder to shoulder. There was silence. Clearly there was not a guard in sight.

"Where are we heading for?" asked Dayna. Advancing slightly, Tarrant scanned the room, gun still levelled and ready.

"I don't suppose it matters, as long as it's away from here. Doctor?"

"My ship is in some sort of shuttle bay." The Doctor frowned, one pointing finger turning in a rough circle. "That way. I think."

"You think?" Tarrant raised his eyebrows so high that they almost vanished into his mop of frantic curls. "You do realise that this base is jam-packed with people likely to enjoy killing us? If we take a wrong turn, it'll probably be fatal."

"Then we won't take a wrong turn, will we." Dayna held up a small, spherical object that she had apparently conjured from thin air. "And if we do, we'll blast a hole in a wall and get back on track again."

"Your faith in explosives never ceases to gladden my heart, Dayna."

"Shut up and get ready to shoot things." She looked back to the Doctor. "I hope you can run, Doctor."

"Some days I seem to do little else." He took Destrii by the hand, hoping to distract her from the temptation to join in any fighting, and was gratified to see that she made no attempt to pull away. On the contrary, she moved a little closer to him, and her hand gripped his in return.

"Then let's get started, shall we?" Tarrant nodded to Dayna, and once again she operated the door control. This time, out beyond the doorway, things were not nearly so quiet as before.

There was a corridor outside, and wherever it came from or went to, it was clearly a popular thoroughfare. People of every colour and flavour thronged everywhere, dressed in at least three different kinds of uniform. Medical, technical, security – the Doctor had no idea. Of far more immediate import were the guns, leaping simultaneously from countless holsters the moment a group of armed civilians appeared in the cellblock door. Even the cock-sure Tarrant, who appeared to be built entirely of adrenalin, looked a little shaken.

"Plan B?" he asked Dayna. The Doctor, whose brain worked faster than any human's, had already abandoned Plan B, and was by now somewhere in the vicinity of H. It scarcely mattered. The mass of uniforms beyond the door cared only for their own priorities, which clearly did not involve allowing suspicious characters to escape. The shooting started before anybody could even think of attempting subterfuge.

"Duck!" It was Tarrant's voice, although it was to no real purpose. The Doctor was already on the move, hauling Destrii out of harm's way just as the firestorm began. It might almost have been pretty, had the circumstances been different, the blasts of laser fire criss-crossing themselves in pink and orange and red, seeming to make the air itself glow bright. Tarrant and Dayna were flattened against the wall on either side of the door, both quiet for perhaps the first time since the Doctor had met them. Pressed up against the wall, Destrii drew one of her knives.

"Do we want to be taken alive?" ske asked, with brisk, if not entirely genuine, practicality. Only the Doctor recognised the hint of fear beneath the customary bravado of her voice. He gave her hand what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze.

"I don't think they're intending that we will be. But don't worry." He frowned, then flashed her a less than entirely cheerful smile. "Just yet."

"I—"

"Wait here." He pulled free, slithering across the floor to where one of the guards lay, just on the other side of the previous door. Seeing him, Dayna obliging laid down some covering fire, which had little to no effect against the onslaught. The Doctor tried to ignore the laser fire, as he rifled through the guard's belongings. Laser pistol, communicator, electronic identity card, some sort of electronic key; he stuffed it all into his own pockets, then scurried back to Destrii.

"If you're thinking of something clever, you'd better make it quick, Doctor." Tarrant had recovered his poise, if not yet his cocky grin, and was once again every inch the swaggering adventurer. "I don't want to worry you, but the reinforcements have just arrived." He fired a few shots out into the corridor, ants against an Apatosaurus, then looked to Dayna. "I don't suppose you want to try one of your little toys?"

"I'd rather we not blow anybody up, thank you." The Doctor was at work with his screwdriver, cannibalising micro-circuitry with a speed bordering on the insane, his pale, bright eyes ablaze. "Destrii, look about you. What can you see?"

"Gunfire," she told him, with heavy sarcasm, and had to duck sharply when a pink and yellow laser blast exploded above her head. Somewhere amidst his hurrying, the Doctor found the time to glare.

"I don't know!" she retaliated. "A floor, walls, air conditioning vents. We're not getting in there. They're tiny."

"Keep going." He was looking down at his work again, the hum of the sonic screwdriver almost inaudible above the gunfire. Destrii's big, wide eyes roamed the room once again.

"Some sort of communications device, I think. Some other controls. Doors, temperature, humidity. I don't know."

"Would you recognise an intercom if you saw one?"

"I think so. There's only so many ways one can look."

"Excellent." With one last buzz from the screwdriver, he held up a curious mixture of electronics, contained in the shell of a communicator. "Find the intercom." He also handed across the screwdriver. "Patch this box into the main array. There's a naked blue wire on the back. That needs to attach itself to what will hopefully be a big, central wire in the intercom. Once it's in place, put your hands over your ears, got it?"

"But I—"

"I can't move the way you can, Destrii. I may be a lot younger than I once was, but even so." His smile was warm and encouraging, and just the kind that she could not resist. She glared at the peculiar device and the screwdriver, as though they were personally responsible for all her difficulties, then turned about and left. A back flip carried her across a flurry of pink laser fire – a cartwheel over a lattice work of orange and red – a neat spring changed her direction, helping her to dodge a sudden burst that would have taken the head off a slower being. Tarrant, watching her between largely ineffectual bursts of covering fire, raised his eyebrows in appreciation.

"Not bad," he said. Dayna smirked.

"Forget it. She'd bite your head off."

"She'd be fun to have around, though."

"I'd like to see Avon's face when you suggested it. He thinks we're a liability. Imagine what he'd make of a warrior fish girl and her pacifist boyfriend." The conversation broke off for a moment of gunfire. "Besides, she has eyes only for him."

"Yes." Tarrant's bright grin leapt back out to play. "Still, I always do like a challenge."

"Like I said, she'd bite your head off. And I do mean that literally." They went back to firing, but their defence, despite the levity, was weakening. So far the guards were holding off, wary of rushing their position, but the lack of weapons on their side must have been obvious. Buoyed up by the limited threat, the enemy ranks were beginning to advance. From his position against the wall, the Doctor could not see the size of the force ranged against them, but he could hear it. Tarrant and Dayna were determined, and most certainly enthusiastic, but they could not hope to hold off that many people for much longer. It was only a matter of time before they were overrun.

On the other side of the room, Destrii's acrobatics had ceased at a large bank of controls, bearing the helpful, stencilled legend: Communications. She was looking doubtful, but was not the kind to let uncertainty discourage her, and soon set to work with the screwdriver. Before long she turned back towards the Doctor, a toothy smile illuminating her wide, grey-green face. She made a show of clamping her hands over her ears, the tendrils that flared above her eyes stiffening expectantly. The Doctor took a breath. Over by the door, Dayna raised one eloquent eyebrow as she paused to eject a power pack.

"I've seen better distractions," she said, with more humour than acid. The Doctor looked up, surrounded by a scattering of dismembered electronics, and offered her a quick, and perfectly timed, wink. A second later the world was turned upside down.

The screech of static that tore through the local intercom sent Dayna's hands to her ears with a yelp of angry surprise. Beside her, Tarrant struggled to put on a show of bravado, but beyond, the military might of the citadel gave no such display. Screaming in pain, the guards fell back, guns dropped and forgotten. Only a few stayed behind, and Tarrant rewarded them with gunfire. Gritting her teeth, Dayna soon joined him in mopping them up.

"Remind me never to get on your bad side, Doctor." Flinching even as he tried to make it appear as though he was not, Tarrant collected a pair of fallen guns, and tossed one across to Dayna. She caught it neatly enough, but the grace that had so filled her movements before was gone.

"Let's just get out of here," she growled, hurling the Doctor and Destrii a fierce glare. Neither seemed affected by the feedback, the Doctor's Time Lord constitution able to adjust for it, and Destrii's hearing being of a different construction altogether. There was a swagger to her stride as she stepped up to take the lead from Tarrant, and she offered the young human a cheerful smile as she went past.

"Come on." The Doctor hurried everybody onward. "Somebody will find a way to fix that before much longer. Destrii? Screwdriver." She tossed it back to him, and he turned it to the controls governing the door, sealing it behind them. "This should slow the chase a bit, but it'll also block our retreat if we run into trouble."

"Trouble?" asked Tarrant, only slightly facetiously. "Us?" The Doctor couldn't help but smile. These two young humans were dangerously reckless, with the lives of others as much as with their own, but there was something charming about them all the same. He clapped the taller man on the shoulder, and hurried onward again.

"Come on. Once we're beyond this section, the feedback will stop. You'll find the going much easier."

"But so will everybody else," said Dayna. She broke into a jog, and they all did likewise, hurrying along the screeching, hissing corridors, and sabotaging every door as they went. It came as a surprise when they arrived at last at a door that led into silence.

"Every bone in my head is giving thanks," said Tarrant, who clearly had theatre in his blood. Dayna, after a quiet whistle of relief, shot him a taut smile.

"Don't worry. They'll probably all be atomised by laser fire in a moment. At least that'll save you a headache."

"Yes, we haven't exactly been subtle about which direction we're heading in, have we." He gestured to the next door, unmistakably that of the landing bay, and offered his partner a sardonic, flourishing bow. "After you."

"You're too kind." She went to the door, her hand poised above the control plate. "What do you suppose the chances are that nobody will try to stop us?"

"About as good as our chances of getting a warm and friendly welcome back aboard the Liberator when this is over." Tarrant once again took up position alongside the door, his back to the wall. "Keep back, Doctor. You've done your bit, and we're grateful. Now it's our turn again."

"You're very welcome." Pulling Destrii with him, the Doctor moved out of the way, watching with an uncomfortable sense of redundancy as the young humans prepared to open the door. He disliked the necessity of their weapons – and most all, he disliked the necessity of leaving them to take the risk. Thousands of ideas came to him, but most he had to jettison immediately. It seemed that nothing was quite so effective as barrelling in through the front door.

The human pair took this door just as they had taken all of the others. Flat against the wall on either side, a simple countdown, then trust in fate and instincts. When Dayna operated this door, it was no different. The only change was in what lay in wait.

Out of sight of the door, the Doctor could nonetheless see everything, for a large bank of computer controls reflected the scene in bright, distorted clarity. There were five guards standing in a line; no great odds perhaps; but this time the enemy was ready for them. Each of the guards held somebody, clearly a civilian, close against them, with a laser pistol pressed to the throat. Hostages. As a counter-argument it was extremely persuasive.

"Tarrant!" The voice was that of a woman, and as the Doctor watched his distorted display, she came into sight – a tall, striking woman, with close-cropped dark hair, and a smile that might easily have belonged to a crocodile. She was dressed from head to toe in shimmering white, a gown so tight that it showed every contour, highlighting each one with a sprinkle of sequins and a dusting of iridescent feathers. Had the Doctor been human he might have caught his breath.

"Servalan." The reaction from Dayna was immediate – and intense. She started forward, and Tarrant, grabbing her hastily, clearly struggled to hold her back. She fought like a wildcat, his greater strength – and the evidence closeness of their relationship – apparently no deterrent. "I have to kill her!"

"Her and how many hostages? Not to mention us." As Tarrant wrestled with Dayna, the white-clad woman came closer, the tightness of her gown no barrier to the purposefulness of her stride. Her reflection looked distinctly predatory. The Doctor was quite sure that it was no illusion.

"It's nice to see you again, Tarrant." Servalan, towering upon high, white stilettos, smiled her widening, predatory smile, apparently blind to the obviously distressed Dayna. "I suggest that you put your weapons down. I should hate to have to order my men to open fire."

"Like hell," hissed Dayna, although by now her own weapon was little use, pinned against her side by Tarrant's desperate hold. Servalan flashed her a momentary look, coldly contemptuous even just in its reflection in the Doctor's imperfect mirror. Then she took a few steps more, and turned from reflected image into reality.

"More of you." Dark, appraising eyes roamed up and down the Doctor, gleaming all the while – then widened briefly at the sight of Destrii. The Doctor got the impression that he was being sized up and filed away in a remarkable brain, before, calculations done, the predatory smile warmed and grew. "Oh, Tarrant. You've been holding back on me. Is Avon starting to collect pretty young men, or is the universe just being especially kind?"

"Just let me go." Dayna's words, hot and low, seemed meant for Tarrant alone. With better hearing than most, the Doctor heard her too, wondering briefly at the depth of her emotion. Tarrant clung on to her, no longer bothering to point his gun at anything save the floor. He smiled sardonically, but although his eyes were as bitter as Dayna's, his words, when he spoke, were quite light.

"I suppose the universe, like everyone else, is just too afraid to disappoint you, Servalan. But he has nothing to do with the Liberator. May I present the Doctor, and his friend Destrii. They're from... somewhere else."

"Indeed." Servalan's appraising gaze trailed up and down Destrii, before returning to the Doctor. "I'm intrigued. You must tell me everything. Tarrant is being less than gallant, which is really quite unlike him. I apologise on his behalf."

"Don't bother." There was no mistaking the sarcasm. Servalan's lips curled upwards even further in response to it. "Doctor, Destrii, allow me to present Servalan, our most illustrious – and gracious – empress of whatever her title is this week. I'd warn you not to turn your back, but she's just as likely to stab you in the front."

"Charmed," said the Doctor. She laughed.

"As am I. Such a shame, Doctor, that you've come all this way just to meet a firing squad. Still, one mustn't argue with the law." She raised a white, sinuous arm into the air, and clicked her fingers. "Guards. Take them." A smirk worked dark magic on her depthless eyes. "But don't hurt them. I should hate to see dear Tarrant or his pretty friend here damaged. Before time anyway."

"You're too kind," said Tarrant. One of the guards relieved he and Dayna of their weapons, holding his own to Tarrant's head. A moment later the other guards released their hostages. It was the opportunity that Destrii had been waiting for.

She reacted with a speed that surprised even the Doctor, launching herself into the air, and using the wall as a springboard to bypass Servalan, flipping in mid air and dropping like a hawk upon the first guard to advance. He collapsed beneath her, and one quick chop to the back of the neck left him immobile. She was springing up again almost as soon as his eyes closed.

"Stop her!" roared Servalan, but the momentum was Destrii's, and the guards were caught completely by surprise. One tried to draw aim, but she was upon him in an instant, clearing the distance between them in a swift bound. One leather-booted foot swung around in a perfect arc in mid air, and the guard joined his colleague in oblivion. Tarrant, held back by the gun that nestled in his curls, smiled a taut little smile, and relinquished his hold upon Dayna.

The young woman reacted almost as fast as Destrii, if without the acrobatics. She side-stepped, an elbow finding the groin of Tarrant's guard with unerring accuracy; her hands, a second later, finding his neck. The crack of bone was unmistakable, and the Doctor's mouth went dry at the sound. There was no time to regret the man's death. With Servalan distracted by the sudden reversal of fortune, he stepped up alongside her, and relieved her of her gun. She smiled at him, her face showing no trace of defeat.

Alongside, the guards had been thoroughly routed. Between them, Destrii and Dayna had defeated the lot, with Tarrant looking on in obvious enjoyment. The battle over, he turned to the Doctor with a dazzling smile, taking the confiscated gun as it was thrust unceremoniously into his hands.

"It seems I shall have to throw myself on your mercy," said Servalan, her words aimed squarely at the pair of them, along with a decidedly seductive smile. Tarrant laughed.

"The day that you surrender is the day that the universe stops expanding. Does anybody have any means of tying her up?"

"I can think of something eminently more satisfying," said Dayna. Tarrant moved to stand between her and their prisoner.

"We don't kill in cold blood," he said forcefully. Dayna's glare was ferocity incarnate, her recent workout with the guards having clearly done nothing to work off her aggression.

"My blood isn't cold. She murdered my father!"

"And my brother. Shooting her down won't help."

"He's right." Leaving Tarrant to guard Servalan, and none too sorry to do so, the Doctor stepped in. He smiled gently at Dayna, although she showed no reaction. Instead he saw only fury in her eyes. "Killing her would be like killing yourself. You don't get to step away from murder without being changed."

"I don't care." All the same, she allowed herself to be steered away. The Doctor was a good deal stronger than any human his size, but he had seen that she was more than capable of putting up a good fight. In an earlier lifetime, the Doctor might have patted her hand. In this one he simply allowed his smile to linger, gentle and filled with empathy.

"You're better than her," he said, and this time earned a tiny smile in return.

"I don't think so. Maybe once, but not any more."

"Do you hide behind hostages? Have half of a galaxy quailing at your name?"

"No."

"Well then." The Doctor looked back to Servalan, standing tall with her head held high. "And now we need to get out of here, as quickly as possible."

"You'll never make it," said Servalan, with a supremely self-satisfied smile. "This place is a fortress. You'll never get a shuttle off the ground, and all communications are under my control."

"And teleport ability is blocked, yes, we know." Tarrant's smile was undiminished. "But there are a few things that you've overlooked."

"Such as?" asked Servalan, rather as though she had just been grossly insulted. The curly head tilted at an angle nearly as arrogant as hers.

"Number one, we're annoyingly persistent. Number two, we have the Doctor. Given how quickly he dealt with your prison doors, I don't doubt that he can also handle more. Right, Doctor?"

"We'll, I don't like to seem conceited," said the Doctor, not sounding entirely convincing. Destrii gave a short bark of laughter at that.

"Whether all of this is true or not, can we stop talking now?" she asked. "It's embarrassing to get recaptured when you're so close to getting away."

"Yes, of course." Taking charge with his usual breezy manner, the Doctor looked along the length of the landing bay. All looked normal enough. The hostages had dispersed, gone who knew where, and he could see no sign of any further security guards. "You and Dayna take a look around. Find the TARDIS if you can. We'll follow in a moment."

"If you're sure you can handle things here." Destrii eyed Servalan with suspicion. "If you ask me, Dayna's right. A dead enemy is a harmless enemy."

"Yes, and wasting time on an argument that you know you won't win is always a good idea." The Doctor glared a wordless order and, after a moment, Destrii stalked away. With a long stare back towards Tarrant and Servalan, Dayna followed suit.

"Your determination is quite attractive," said Servalan, in a voice that was almost a purr, "if charmingly dated. You'll be dead by the end of the day. Surrender now, and I might be persuaded to let you die quickly."

"Thank you," said the Doctor. She laughed lightly, eyes showing definite appreciation.

"Where have you been hiding him, Tarrant? You should have introduced us sooner. He's so much prettier than Avon."

"Isn't everybody?" Tarrant drew in a breath, and glanced over at the Doctor. "I only see one way to go from here. You?"

"Needs must," agreed the Doctor. Servalan's eyes narrowed.

"What are you two planning?"

"Oh, just how to get away without you shooting us in the back." Tarrant checked his gun, and Servalan's narrowed eyes immediately widened in outrage.

"Don't you dare. You're already dead, both of you. I can kill everybody else. Your families, your friends. I can see that your deaths last days. Weeks. I can—"

"Just play nice and go to sleep." Tarrant raised his gun, sighting along it to the beautiful and deadly vision before him.

"We're terribly sorry," offered the Doctor, without a trace of sarcasm. The glare that Servalan unleashed upon him almost incinerated him on the spot.

"I'm unarmed," she hissed, in a voice that was no less incendiary than her stare. "You can't shoot an unarmed woman."

"You're no more unarmed than I am. If I know you even half as well as I think, you have a charming little miniature blaster hidden somewhere that I have no intention of retrieving it from." Tarrant's smile hardened into a thin line. "Now goodnight." He fired. Servalan bellowed his name in furious response, but the blast caught her before the first syllable was complete. She collapsed in a heap, a shower of dislodged feathers drifting serenely in the air above her body. Tarrant stared down at her, his smile rejuvenated.

"I may have enjoyed that a little too much."

"I almost enjoyed it myself." The Doctor checked her pulse. "Come on. We'd better make ourselves scarce. Those sabotaged doors won't stand up to much force."

"Right with you." Gun up and ready for action, Tarrant led the way forward. The landing bay was not especially large, but it took some time to traverse it. A number of shuttles stood about, limiting their view and enforcing a slow and cautious progress. They saw only a handful of people, however; all unconscious on the ground. A sure sign that Destrii and Dayna had passed this way before them.

At the far end of the bay, where the doors to the outside world stood as a stout barrier, a rectangular blue box made a curious sort of gatepost. It meant nothing to Tarrant of course but, tense and footsore, the Doctor could not help but smile at the sight of it. It was journey's end - if not yet the time to breathe easily. Destrii and Dayna were there already, arguing energetically, but he ignored the pair of them. He had eyes only for his faithful ship.

"Hello, old girl." He rested a hand on the door, and as ever the TARDIS seemed pleased to see him, humming a quiet welcome. Dayna broke off from her argument then, turning towards Tarrant as he followed on in the Doctor's wake.

"Tarrant!" Her mood was clearly still aggressive, her eyes still bright from recent altercation. "She wants us all to go into space in that box. Now might be a good time to part company."

"I don't know." Her comrade's eyes twinkled in gentle teasing as they roamed across the box. "Such close quarters do have a certain appeal."

"Oh you're a lot of help. If I'm escaping, I want it to be in a shuttle, not a storage cupboard."

"Oh, she's a lot more than a storage cupboard. I can have you back aboard your own ship in no time with the TARDIS." Giving his ship a quick pat, the Doctor turned back to the others. "Where exactly is she?"

"Waiting just outside of orbit, hopefully." Tarrant frowned in evident suspicion. "But really, Doctor? A cupboard?"

"It's not a cupboard. It's... never mind. Look, let's just get inside before... ah."

"Ah indeed." Sauntering out from between two nearby shuttles, Servalan smiled with real pleasure; albeit a pleasure that ran with ice. She was flanked on either side by three guards, all with weapons aimed. "How very glad I am to see that you haven't left."

"I wish I could return the sentiment." The Doctor summoned a smile of his own, at least in part through simple courtesy. "You recovered very quickly, Servalan. I'm impressed."

"Oh, what's a little laser blast amongst friends? My clothing is not designed merely for style, Doctor. It can disperse a stun shot almost completely. By the time my guards reached me I was quite my usual self again." Her eyes turned swiftly to Tarrant. "Although that doesn't lessen my displeasure, I assure you."

"You should have let me kill her," growled Dayna. She had put her gun in her belt, and her hand hovered about it now, clearly eager for the draw. Servalan ignored her completely.

"And now we find ourselves at an interesting juncture," she said, stalking closer on her improbable heels. "Do I order a summary execution, or do I let justice play out according to more conventional rules? Dear Tarrant already has a death sentence on his pretty head, but you, Doctor, and your..." She trailed off, eyes drifting from the points of Destrii's green-booted feet, to the top of her tendrilled head, "...your pet... might yet command my attention."

"Pet?" Destrii seemed to grow a foot in height, and there was a knife in her hand before the Doctor could even think to stop her. Every gun leapt instantly to point at her, and taking the distraction as her cue, Dayna drew her own gun with lightning speed. The guns all whirled to point at her instead – then, as Destrii took a long, loping stride towards Servalan, switched back once again to her. It was a moment of pure pantomime, and Servalan's face showed a flush of colour in her rage.

"Will somebody just kill one of them!" she bellowed. The Doctor, thinking fast, if not necessarily all that well, hauled out his sonic screwdriver, and with a flick of a switch, tossed it into the air. It hummed as it flew, a bright blue light pulsing on the end of it, and every gun turned at once upon it, blasting it to glowing smithereens. It was distraction enough. Key in hand, the Doctor made a mad dash for the TARDIS.

"Stop him!" roared Servalan, but by the time that the guards had reassured themselves that the 'grenade' had been neutralised, the Doctor was already in his ship. Servalan gave the nearest, hapless guard a furious thump.

"Idiots! All of you! Don't just stand there, blast it! Are we to let a man in a wooden box get the better of us?" The guards, confidence lost, switched their aim, in confused succession, between Destrii, Dayna and the baffling blue box. Servalan's fists clenched and unclenched in building fury, and she shouldered the nearest guard aside, grabbing his gun for herself. She didn't fire it. Even as she wrenched it away from its owner, the TARDIS began to dematerialise, its loud, wheezing, groaning bellow echoing about the bay. It took everybody by surprise, especially when it disappeared altogether.

Inside, the Doctor worked feverishly. He was taking a wild gamble, given the TARDIS's frequently wilful nature, but in that one, small second of distraction, it was the only plan that had come to mind. Hoping against hope, riding the controls like a desperate smuggler struggling to escape a blockade, he dashed from one side of the console to the other. Seconds later, with more than a few fingers crossed, he hit one final control. The TARDIS began to materialise again, and a series of ghostly shapes began to form within the console room. He gave a shout of triumph, and the tableau solidified around him. He had materialised around the little group, sealing them all inside the TARDIS. Terrified, most of the guards dropped their guns.

"Shoot him!" Almost scarlet with rage, Servalan levelled her stolen pistol. No longer at risk of being blasted herself, so too did Dayna.

"I wouldn't do that," the Doctor warned them. "This is my ship, and she doesn't like guns any more than I do. The console room is in a state of grace, and that means no gunplay."

"Is that so." Servalan's voice was white hot. Had the Doctor been in a more generous mood, he might have respected her courage. As it was, staring down the barrel of a gun brought out a whole different set of emotions. Vaguely he was aware of Tarrant moving into position to disarm Servalan; of Destrii and her knife gliding stealthily over to round up the humbled guards; of Dayna, apparently still trying to convince herself to fire. And in the middle of it all, Servalan smiled imperiously, and her furious eyes turned ice cold. Without further hesitation, she fired the gun. Nothing happened. Hoping that it would not be too obvious, the Doctor resumed breathing, and gave the TARDIS console a grateful pat.

"What trickery is this?" Servalan gave the gun a shake, then hurled it aside and pulled another, smaller one from down the front of her dress. It was tiny, shining silver and blue in the lights of the TARDIS console, but there was no doubt that it would be deadly enough if it worked. All of Servalan's strength could elicit no more than a dull gurgle from the trigger, and in a sudden outburst of temper, she hurled the gun at the Doctor. He stepped aside, and it vanished somewhere into the shadows.

"I will get you for this," hissed Servalan. The Doctor opened the doors.

"Leave," he told her. There was a millennia of authority in the single word, although such was Servalan's arrogance that she seemed not to notice. Instead, drawing herself up to her full height, she gave her head a toss, then stalked towards the outside world. Her guards scurried after, a knot of panicked humanity that blocked her path and only added to her obvious outrage.

"Here," said Dayna suddenly, and threw her gun after the president. "I prefer my own anyway." The weapon lay at Servalan's feet, a mute mockery that made Servalan stare at Dayna with undisguised hatred. That briefest of glances back at the doorway aside, it was the first time that she had bothered to acknowledge the young woman's existence.

"You'll pay for this," she warned. "All of you. Nobody makes a fool out of me and lives." Unimpressed, Destrii gave her a shove, sending her stumbling out into the landing bay. Back at the console, the Doctor shut the doors again, then set the ship back into flight. Rarely had he been so glad to see a door close.

"Well!" he said, as the central column resumed its comforting rhythm. "That would seem to be that."

"It was amazing," said Destrii, which he took as the highest praise. Desrii was not often impressed.

"A marvel," agreed Tarrant, looking about with interest. "A state of grace? That's quite an achievement."

"Yes, it is." The Doctor smiled, more than a little abashed. "When it works. I must admit, I'm never too sure when it will. Still, it seemed to go nicely today, didn't it."

"Then I might have been able to fire after all?" asked Dayna. The Doctor looked her way for a moment, and his smile took on a gentler tone.

"Possibly, yes. But then what? Do you really think that it would have helped?"

"I'm not sure that I care." She held his gaze, and he was struck for a moment by the youth behind the coldness in her eyes. She was scarcely more than a child; younger even than Destrii perhaps. Tarrant barely looked older. For a moment he considered asking them to join him. There was so much that he could show them, that might heal some of that emptiness that he saw in them; that deadness that came from an impossible life, in an impossible time. The moment didn't last. With a smile that spoke of a carelessness that was by no means entirely real, Tarrant held out a hand to the Doctor.

"Thank you," he said. "For everything. We'd still be locked in that cell if not for you."

"I owe you one or two favours myself," the Doctor told him. Tarrant laughed.

"Any fool can fire a gun, Doctor. You have a rare ability. But now we have to be elsewhere. If you could set us down outside the citadel, we can have our ship teleport us up. It's probably safer for everybody than having you land this thing onboard the Liberator."

"If you wish." The Doctor set the controls, only one eye on his instruments. "Although there's no need to be in such a hurry. We could take a small detour first. Another planet. Another galaxy..."

"In this thing?" Dayna looked about, but if she was tempted he saw no sign of it. "No offence Doctor, but I think we live different lives."

"No offence taken. Is that your answer as well, Tarrant?"

"Another galaxy?" The bright eyes gleamed with such promise of adventure, but the curly head nodded in its turn. "Yes, I'm afraid so. It would only be a matter of time before we clashed, Doctor. You're a man of peace, and I'm... not."

"As you wish." He flicked a switch, and once again the TARDIS materialised. "Last chance to reconsider?"

"Thank you, but no." Dayna, whose eyes apparently saw all, stepped up to operate the door control. "Goodbye, Doctor. It's been... interesting."

"Yes, it has." He smiled a little sadly as he watched them leave, then he sighed and reclosed the doors. A moment later they were in flight once again, their new friends left behind.

"It's better with just the two of us anyway," said Destrii, her tone more than a little proprietary. The Doctor smiled at her.

"I don't know. I've always rather liked a proper ship's company. Besides, in their current life, I can't imagine that they'll live too long."

"That's their choice," said Destrii, as pragmatic as ever. The Doctor nodded slowly, and thought of a million other rebels, in a million other times.

"I'm not sure that choice enters into it," he said, although even as he spoke he was wondering. There had been little noble sentiment in either young face. Tarrant and Dayna had not looked like the usual opponents of a tyrannical regime. Perhaps they had been right to walk away from him. Perhaps one day Destrii would choose to do the same. Her values were also very different to his. Still – that was one day. For now he clapped her on the back.

"Come on. Enough of evil federations and grim outposts. How about something completely different?"

"Whenever you say that, you always suggest a holiday." Her shoulders slumped. "I'm not sure that I enjoy your holidays, Doctor. You keep promising me something called 'ice cream', and I just end up being shot at."

"Sorry," the Doctor told her. She smiled, and linked an arm through his.

"That's alright." She made a show of sliding her knife back into her barely existent clothes. "I'm always ready for anything."

"Yes," said the Doctor, as he carefully extricated himself from her grip. "I'd noticed that, believe me." Well that answered one question. Different lives or not, it looked as though Destrii intended to be aboard for quite some time.