Future's End
A short story by Mark Simpson

Seventh Season 6B story and part of the Second Doctor Fiction collection

Lord Ferain, Director of Operations of the Celestial Intervention Agency of Gallifrey, enjoyed feeling superior. Indeed, he considered himself superior to most of his fellow Time Lords and Ladies. However, unless one was privileged enough to be in the ultimate position of power, there was always someone higher.

So it was that he found himself in the darkened office of his boss, the Chairman of the CIA. It came as no surprise to Ferain that the topic of conversation was his latest agent.

"The Doctor is a rebel and cannot be trusted," said the shadowy figure behind the desk, without any of the social niceties like welcome or sit down.

Ferain remained standing, his hands clasped behind his back. "The Doctor has been brought into line. He is now under my constant supervision."

"You cannot supervise him when he is away from Gallifrey on some mission or other."

"That is true," Ferain conceded. "However, I have an agent with him when he is away from home."

The Time Lord behind the desk snorted. "A junior technician who you didn't know yourself before you placed him with the Doctor. Hardly a seasoned operative you will agree."

Ferain stiffened at the implied criticism. "Damon is loyal and trustworthy. He is a very promising member of the CIA."

"Who you have allowed to become corrupted by contact with the Doctor," accused his boss. He shook his head in the shadows. "No, I believe it is time the Doctor was given up for sentence to be carried out."

Ferain frowned. There were other missions he had intended to send the Doctor on. Other problems that the Time Lords could not be seen to be involved in directly. But orders were orders.

"As you wish, sir," he said. "I shall see to it at once."

"Make sure that you do, Ferain," came the reply. "Just make sure you do."

Ferain nodded and turned to leave. As he did, he noticed another figure in the darkness, sitting perfectly still and watching the them. Again, the face was unclear in the darkness.

Swallowing his curiosity, Ferain left the office and headed for his own.

***

"He is very loyal," said the visitor after Ferain had gone.

"He wants my job," replied the man behind the desk. "And when I move on to bigger and better things, he will get it."

"Is there anything better than Head of the CIA?"

The man behind the desk smiled. "The Presidency."

His visitor shook his head. "You wield more power now than you ever could as President," he scoffed.

"Maybe, but it's all in the shadows, behind the scenes. I'm tired of hiding in the background."

The other man laughed. "You always were an idealist, Goth. I wish you well in your quest."

"Thank you Margas. And what do you want from the future?"

Margas had risen from his chair and crossed to the door. He turned back to answer the question.

"One day, I shall control all." He smiled. "But not today, or tomorrow. Tomorrow belongs to you Goth. Enjoy it."

Goth smiled too. "Oh, I shall. I shall."

***

Ferain was not in a good mood when he stepped into his office. So he was annoyed to see the message pod sitting on his desk.

He silently cursed the girl Santanastadevorianesta. His newest agent was supposed to deliver a message pod to the Centauri homeworld, not leave it on her superior's desk.

He reached out for the pod, intending to move it then call her and demand an explanation. But the pod began to slide apart, as if meant for him.

Quickly he snatched his hand away again and the pod slid shut. He frowned, contemplating his alternatives.

Who would want to leave him a standard issue Gallifreyan message pod? Why not just speak to him in person? Why go to all this trouble?

Well, he would never know unless he opened the pod. Sighing, Ferain reached for the pod and let it open fully this time.

A hologram sprung up on his desk, about a foot tall. Despite the fact that Ferain had never seen the man before, he recognised the arrogant bearing and the slight upward curl of the lips.

"That's right," said the hologram. "I'm you. Future you."

Ferain frowned at the hologram. "Interactive?"

"Of course," replied the holographic future version of himself. "We're not primitives you know."

"What do you want with me?" snapped Ferain.

"A little co-operation would be nice," Holo-Ferain said reasonably. "I have a proposition for you."

"What proposition?" Ferain asked, his interest piqued.

Holo-Ferain nodded. "I thought that would catch your attention. We have a problem with the Cybermen."

"And you're turning to me to help?" Ferain exclaimed, incredulity etched across his face.

The hologram shook his head. "I have an agent dealing with the main problem. However, these Cybermen have access to a time ship. They are planning to alter their destiny."

"And what do you want me to do about it?"

"I expect you to stop them," Holo-Ferain replied. "But I must insist on one thing. They must escape with their time ship to return to their base. That is where my agent will be waiting."

Ferain frowned again. "Anything else I can do?"

"Actually, there is. If I remember correctly, you have an expert on the Cyber-race currently working for you."

"The Doctor? But I've just been ordered to hand him over for sentence."

"Oh, a day won't make any difference," his future self said.

"And what if he meets with an accident?"

"Well, you had better make sure he doesn't!" snapped the hologram, showing a little of the past Ferain's personality.

Ferain bowed his head slightly. "Very well. I assume you remember all this anyway, from when you were me?"

"Of course. Now, we should discuss the details before I deactivate myself..."

***

The Doctor sat glumly on the bed and stared at the wall.

Since he and Damon had returned from their brief time of freedom on Earth he had been confined to his temporary quarters in the Capitol. The door was secured, the network terminal was locked down and he was beginning to think that he had been completely forgotten about.

That was when the door swished open and Ferain walked in.

"Oh, remembered I exist, have you?" the Doctor said, looking up. "I was starting to wonder if my sentence would be carried out here, in this room. Or is it my cell?"

"Now, Doctor, you're starting to sound like your first incarnation again," Ferain scolded.

Something in the CIA man's voice caught the Doctor's attention. He studied the other man, noting that Ferain's trademark half smile was missing. In its place was a deep frown. Something was troubling Ferain. Something bad.

"Is something wrong?" the Doctor asked, concerned despite himself.

"No," Ferain replied quickly, shaking his head.

"So is this just a social call or are you taking me for the completion of my sentence?"

"Neither. I have a mission for you."

Now the Doctor shook his head. "I'm sick of doing your dirty work. Exile me if you must but please get on with it. I don't want any more missions."

Ferain sighed. "Looks like I'm going to have to play my trump card."

"Doesn't matter," the Doctor told him. "I don't want to be a galactic yo-yo any more, with you holding the string."

"It's the Cybermen."

The Doctor grimaced. "What about them?"

"They have time travel."

The Doctor went white. "They can't have! How?"

"They captured a time vessel. They are using it to try and alter the outcome of their war with the humans. I want you to stop them."

The Doctor nodded. "I'll need Damon."

"Yes, of course," Ferain replied vaguely. "I'll have him brought here." He reached for his communications device.

"Can't he just meet us at the TARDIS?" the Doctor suggested, heading for the door.

"You're not going in the TARDIS Doctor," Ferain said.

The Doctor turned in the doorway, a scowl darkening his face. "Not using the TARDIS?"

Ferain pulled a metal bracelet from inside his dark robes. "You'll be using this Time Ring," he said.

"You don't trust me with the TARDIS!" the Doctor accused.

"Not at all. The TARDIS is being overhauled. It went through a lot during your trip through that vortex."

The Doctor had to admit that was true. But he also suspected Ferain was up to something. His type usually was.

"Damon is on his way here," Ferain said, putting his communicator away.

"Good," the Doctor replied. "Now tell me more about these Cybermen."

***

Damon had arrived while Ferain was finishing his briefing. The CIA man handed the Time Ring over to the Doctor.

"You know how to operate one of these?"

The Doctor inspected the chunky, coppery coloured bracelet with its Seal of Rassilon design. "Oh, I think so. Unless you've started incorporating fancy gadgets into them."

Ferain shook his head. "It's a standard Time Ring, pre-programmed with your destination and return co-ordinates for when your mission is complete." A thought seemed to occur to him. "Oh, and Doctor, I'm sure I don't have to remind you that the Time Ring is your sole link to Gallifrey. Try not to lose it, unless you want to spend eternity in some galactic backwater."

"I'll remember to look after it," the Doctor smiled. "We should be getting started." He turned to Damon. "Place your hand on the Seal, Damon."

"Yes, Doctor," the younger Time Lord replied, doing as he was told without hesitation.

Ferain noticed that but decided not to comment. At least, not yet.

"Right," the Doctor continued, placing a hand over Damon's. "Close your eyes and let your mind drift."

Both Time Lords closed their eyes and their faces became serene. After a few moments a swirling mass of colours appeared around them, accompanied by a familiar grating roar that signalled their entry into the space-time vortex.

Within seconds they were gone, leaving Ferain alone in the Doctor's quarters.

"Good luck," he murmured before turning to leave.

***

The Time Ring deposited the Doctor and Damon in what looked like a cargo bay. As they materialised fully, Damon experienced a moment of disorientation.

The Doctor was quick to steady his companion. "Don't worry, it will pass soon. I assume that's your first experience of a Time Ring?"

The younger man nodded, not trusting himself to speak against the sudden wave of nausea. Slowly his head began to clear.

"It can be a little hard on the first timers," the Doctor told him. "It's not nearly as smooth as TARDIS travel."

"Where are we?" Damon managed to ask.

The Doctor looked around them. "Seems like a storage or cargo area," he replied.

"And the mission? I assume Ferain briefed you before I arrived."

"He did," the Doctor confirmed. "He wanted this doing quickly, so he told me the mission while you were on your way." The Doctor beckoned Damon towards what appeared to be an exit hatch. "Come along, I'll tell you as we walk."

The Doctor used his sonic screwdriver to open the hatch. The corridor beyond was clear, so they stepped out and turned right.

"The Cybermen have acquired a time ship and piloted it here," the Doctor began.

"Where is here?" Damon inquired.

"This is the Federation Outpost Marconi 5. A space station and experimental facility where one of the scientists has developed a weapon that can stop the Cybermen. The Glitter Gun."

"I've heard of that," Damon announced. "Didn't it turn the war between the Cybermen and the Federation?"

"It did indeed," the Doctor replied as they came to a crossroads. After a brief pause, he chose the right hand path. "That is why the Cybermen are here, to try and stop the Glitter Gun getting to the front line."

"How?"

"Well, the gun itself has already been developed and a batch are being prepared for dispatch to the Federation forces in the Martrom Sector. They will be instrumental in the liberation of the planet Wexter and that will lead to them being mass-produced. That will lead to the Cybermen's eventual defeat." The Doctor frowned. "The Cybermen are here to stop that first batch from being shipped out."

"Therefore changing their history and presumably the outcome of the war."

"Indeed," the Doctor replied grimly.

They walked in silence for a time. They seemed to be heading deeper into the industrial and cargo sections of the station.

Eventually, the Doctor stopped beside a large door bearing the markings: -

Hold 12

Authorised Personnel Only

Have Your Access Code Ready.

"This looks like the place," the Doctor said with a grin.

"Do you have an Access Code?" Damon asked.

"In a manner of speaking," the Doctor told him, removing his sonic screwdriver from his pocket once more.

The electronic lock didn't last long against the Doctor's device and the hatch swung inwards smoothly.

Beyond was darkness. A musty smell assaulted their nostrils.

"It's a bit dark," Damon remarked quietly.

"Good job I've got this then," the Doctor replied, swapping the sonic screwdriver for a torch. He switched it on but the weak beam didn't penetrate far into Hold 12.

The Doctor bashed the torch against the side of the hatch and the beam cut out completely. "Oh dear," he exclaimed, "it seems we're in the dark."

"Not entirely," Damon said. The brief period of illumination had shown him that there was a switch on the wall just inside the hatch. He reached out and activated it.

Harsh white light flooded a cavernous space half filled with packing crates. In the distance a muffled clanging sound could be heard.

"We need to proceed with caution," the Doctor warned Damon. "If the Cybermen are already here, the light will have alerted them to our presence too."

They stepped carefully into the hold, where they were immediately grabbed by strong silver hands.

The Doctor grimaced through the pain. "See what I mean?" he gasped as he and Damon were dragged away from the hatchway.

***

They were marched across the hold to the far side, where two Cybermen, one of them a Cyberleader, were trying to open a metal canister. To one side two humans were secured to a metal ladder leading upwards.

The Leader turned as the Doctor and Damon were thrust forward. "More intruders?"

The Doctor rubbed his shoulder where it had been gripped by strong fingers. "Oh, we're just passing through," he said hastily, injecting a note of fear into his voice for effect. "We have no interest in whatever you're doing. Please, just let us be on our way."

"This human lies, Leader," announced the Cyberman behind the Doctor in a flat voice. "We heard him warn the other human about our presence. They knew we would be here."

"Search them for weapons," the Cyberleader ordered.

The two Cybermen who had caught the time travellers stepped forward and roughly patted them down. The one searching the Doctor quickly found the Time Ring in his jacket pocket.

"That is not a weapon," the Doctor protested as the Cyberman handed it to his Leader.

"Then what is it?" the Leader asked.

"Nothing," the Doctor said quickly. "Just an adornment, it has absolutely no value."

The Cyberleader looked at the metal bracelet in its palm. "No value?"

"None at all," the Doctor confirmed.

"Good," the Cyberleader said as it crushed the Time Ring in its silver fist.

The Doctor and Damon watched in horror as the now destroyed Time Ring fell from the hand of the Cyberleader to the floor of the hold with a dull clang.

***

"Is there a problem?" Ferain asked the monitoring technician. He hated being called away from his office, even in an emergency.

The technician looked up nervously from his post. "That Time Ring you asked me to monitor sir..."

"What has the Doctor done now?" Ferain interrupted. "Surely even he can't rewire a Time Ring!"

"It's not that sir," the technician replied. "The Time Ring has stopped transmitting its coded frequency. That can only happen if its been destroyed."

For a moment Ferain said nothing, but the technician could see from his eyes that the CIA man was having difficulty keeping himself under control. With a visible effort he managed to speak.

"Have the Type 40 in cradle 12 prepared for immediate use. And be prepared to lower the transduction barriers on my order from that Capsule. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," the technician replied, glad he wasn't going to be the focus of Ferain's wrath and pitying anybody who did get in the way.

***

"Control, this is Ferain. Lower the transduction barriers now."

"Barriers lowered," came the tinny voice of the technician over the speakers of the Doctor's TARDIS console.

Ferain pushed the final lever that would send the craft spinning into the space-time vortex. "I hope you appreciate my coming to your rescue, Doctor," he muttered as the TARDIS left Gallifrey.

***

The Doctor and Damon had been secured by their wrists to the other side of the metal ladder from the other two humans by their Cyberman guards. Now one of those guards had returned to the main hatch, while the three remaining Cybermen, including the Leader, tried to open the canister.

"We're stranded," Damon declared, his voice betraying the fear he felt. "We'll never get home now."

The Doctor frowned. "Chin up, Damon. I've been in worse situations than this. When we're safely back on Gallifrey I'll tell you about the time I was trapped aboard a space beacon with Jamie and Zoe when it was attacked by space pirates. We ended up half the quadrant away from the TARDIS that time."

His words didn't seem to help his companion, who lapsed into silent thought. The Doctor turned his attention to the other two prisoners.

"Hello, I'm the Doctor and this is my friend Damon. How do you come to be trapped here?"

The younger man smiled grimly. "Wrong place at the wrong time. We were supposed to check that canister and log it out on the next shuttle, but when we got here those Cybermen captured us." The smile widened slightly. "I'm Josh Langley, by the way. My colleague is Max Walker."

"Pleased to meet you," the Doctor replied. "Shame it couldn't have been under better circumstances. Now, do you know what is in that canister?"

"No idea," Langley said. "What about you Max?"

The older, taller man shook his head. "Admin don't tell us anything we don't need to know."

"Well, I'm betting that the canister is full of Glitter Guns," the Doctor said.

"And what are they when they're at home?" Langley wanted to know.

"They are at home," the Doctor told him. "They were developed here, on this station. They are a weapon that the Cybermen are afraid of."

Walker nodded. "I've heard of them," he stated. "I remember hearing some mess room gossip about this new super weapon that could turn the war in our favour."

"So they're here to steal them to use against the Federation?" Langley asked.

"No, they won't work against humans," the Doctor replied. "You see, the Cybermen have a weakness. Gold. It clogs up their life support systems. In effect it suffocates them. They are here to remove the threat of the Glitter Gun before it has the chance to be tested against them."

"How did they hear about it?" Langley inquired. "I hadn't even heard about it until just now."

The Doctor considered telling these two that the Cybermen had travelled here from the future, as he and Damon had. Then he thought that he might not be believed and he didn't want to shatter the trust that he seemed to be forming with the two men. So he came up with something convincing.

"They must have a spy working for them," he replied. "It is a common Cyberman tactic."

"So how do we stop them?" Walker asked.

"What are you talking about?" Langley exclaimed. "We won't be stopping them! We keep our heads down and wait for them to leave."

"But what about the Federation? What about our patriotic duty?"

"Stuff patriotism! I want to live to see tomorrow."

The Doctor frowned. "I wouldn't rely on the Cybermen letting you go once they have what they want."

"What do you mean?" Langley demanded.

"The Cybermen won't want any witnesses," the Doctor told him. "They will kill us all, no matter how much you try to keep your head down."

"Are you sure?" Walker asked.

The Doctor nodded grimly. "I've dealt with the Cybermen before. They are totally ruthless in their efficiency."

"But what can we do tied up like this?" Langley questioned.

"I'm sure I'll think of something," the Doctor said, his mind switching into a higher gear as he searched for some advantage.

In the following silence the Doctor thought he heard a familiar noise. Looking around quickly, he saw that across the hold a light was flashing behind a stack of crates.

"I say, excuse me!" he called to the Cyberleader, hoping that some form of distraction would be enough to cover the landing of the TARDIS across the cargo bay.

The Cyberleader turned towards the Doctor. "Be silent," the silver giant commanded.

"Well, I would under normal circumstances, but my friend here isn't feeling very well."

Damon, who hadn't seen or heard the telltale signs of the arriving TARDIS, looked up at his mentor, unsure what was going on.

The Doctor nudged him in the ribs. "Play along Damon," the Doctor ordered.

Shrugging slightly, Damon groaned loudly, earning himself an encouraging wink from the Doctor.

The Cyberleader had walked across to the prisoners. It towered over the four humanoids. "What is wrong with the human?"

"He's agoraphobic," the Doctor explained. "This place is too open for him."

Damon shot the Doctor an inquiring look but said nothing.

"The human will not need to worry about his sickness soon," the Cyberleader intoned, striding away from them again.

When it was out of earshot Damon, Langley and Walker all looked at the Doctor, waiting for him to explain what was happening.

The elder Time Lord smiled. "I think the cavalry has arrived," he said softly.

***

Ferain operated a control, which caused a keyboard to spring up from a hidden slot in the console. Cursing the layout of the Type 40's he punched the control again, which made the keyboard disappear. Trying again, Ferain found the switch that made the scanner function.

All around the landing site he could see packing crates. As he panned the camera the view changed but didn't vary much. It seemed he was in the right place.

His hand hovered over a lever. Of course, that could be the control that would expel him into the vortex. Frowning, he pulled the lever and hoped it would open the doors.

He exhaled a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding when the double doors swung smoothly inwards. He stepped outside, intent on his task.

***

"The TARDIS is here?" Damon hissed, afraid to raise his voice in case the Cybermen heard him.

"Yes, it materialised on the far side of the bay, as far as I can tell."

"But who would bring it here?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Maybe Ferain decided to send a rescue party."

"Look, I'm lost here," Walker said quietly. "What is this TARDIS you're talking about?"

"My ship," the Doctor told him. "It means we have hope of rescue."

Walker nodded his understanding. Langley was uncharacteristically quiet.

The Doctor searched the hold with his eyes, trying to spot movement that wasn't the Cybermen. Eventually he spotted a shadow that didn't belong. He followed it with his eyes until it resolved itself into the familiar form of Ferain.

Smothering his surprise, the Doctor closed his eyes and muttered the word "Contact".

Across the hold, Ferain paused, feeling the tickle of a mental call. Checking it was safe for him, he closed his eyes and murmured "Contact".

The brief mental conference supplied Ferain with information on the strength of the Cyberman squad, while the Doctor discovered that their rescue party consisted of one person, Ferain.

The Doctor opened his eyes, to find three other expectant pairs on him. He smiled slightly. "Well, the cavalry are here, but not in great strength."

***

The Cyberleader was satisfied when his troopers finally broke open the stubborn metal canister, scattering Glitter Guns across the floor. Some of them skidded away behind other crates.

"Excuse me, sorry to trouble you again."

Looking up, the Cyberleader saw that it was the annoying human again. Well, the humans were now not necessary to their plans and could be destroyed.

Had it possessed emotions, the Cyberleader would have felt pleasure at the prospect of exterminating the humans, especially the scruffy one who was still trying to attract its attention.

***

"What do you want?" the Cyberleader asked the Doctor.

"I was wondering if you could untie us now, seeing as you've opened your crate." He smiled up at the silver giant.

"Don't free them, it's a trap!" Langley exclaimed. "They have reinforcements in the hold, waiting to destroy you!"

"Is this true?" the Cyberleader asked the Doctor.

"Absolute rubbish!" the Doctor declared, shooting a look at Langley and hoping the man would shut up.

"Don't believe him, he's plotting against you. He knows about the Glitter Guns and everything. Release me and I'll tell you all I know!"

The Cyberleader seemed to consider for a moment, then reached over and snapped the bonds holding Langley to the metal ladder.

The man nearly collapsed, massaging feeling back into his chaffed wrists. The Cyberleader towered over him.

"What are they planning?"

Langley scrambled to his feet. "They have a ship called Tardis and one of their mates has brought it into the bay, over there somewhere. He's planning to ambush you somehow and free them." He paused for breath. "That's all I know."

"You have done well," intoned the silver monster.

"So I'm free to go?" Langley wanted to know.

"I shall give you your freedom," the Cyberleader replied, reaching out as if to pat Langley on the shoulder.

Langley's neck snapped like a dry twig and he dropped to the floor almost in slow motion.

"There was no need to do that!" the Doctor protested.

"Which of you is a Time Lord?" the Cyberleader demanded, stepping forward to intimidate the prisoners.

"Time Lord?" the Doctor said, trying to look mystified. "I'm not sure what you mean. Who are the Time Lords?"

"Do not attempt to lie, unless you wish to become like him." The Leader gestured to the broken body of Langley.

Damon opened his mouth, no doubt about to give himself up, when the Doctor stepped on his foot. The distraction allowed the Doctor to speak first.

"I am a Time Lord," he admitted.

"Is what he said true?"

"Of course not! There's nobody else here."

"Why would he lie?"

"To save his own skin," Walker piped up. "He was hoping he could strike a deal with you. How wrong he was."

"Cybermen do not deal with inferior creatures. Now, where is your TARDIS?"

Before the Doctor could answer, there was a gurgling screech from behind the Cyberleader. It sounded like rusty gears struggling to move after a long period without oil.

Turning, they all saw a black robed, grey haired humanoid standing over one of the Cybermen, who was laid on the floor of the hold, coolant spurting from its joints.

The humanoid was holding a Glitter Gun in each hand. One of them was covering the other Cyberman, while the second gun was pointed directly at the Cyberleader's chest unit.

"Free them and you won't end up like your trooper," Ferain growled.

The Cyberleader stood its ground for a moment, then quickly severed the bonds holding the Doctor, Damon and Walker.

The three former prisoners quickly stepped away from their captor, rubbing their wrists as Langley had done.

"I never thought I would say this, Ferain, but it's good to see you," the Doctor said.

"I appreciate the sentiment, Doctor," Ferain replied, almost smiling.

"You know, I'm sure there's something I've forgotten," the Doctor muttered, looking around the hold as if his memory would be jogged by something around them. Shaking his head, he turned back to their saviour.

That was when he saw what was missing. The fourth Cyberman, now looming over the CIA man.

"Look out!" the Doctor shouted.

Ferain turned quickly, but not quickly enough. The Cyberman lashed out, catching the Time Lord across the arm and sending him sprawling. The two Glitter Guns in his hands spun away.

The Cyberman picked Ferain up by his robes, intent on smashing him against a nearby packing crate.

The stream of energised gold caught it squarely in the chest. The Cyberman dropped Ferain and staggered backwards, clutching its chest, where the liquid gold was already seeping into the life support unit. With a strangled cry, it collapsed.

Everybody turned to see Damon, still kneeling in a firing stance, the retrieved Glitter Gun now focused on the Cyberleader and its remaining trooper.

Ferain nodded his thanks to the younger man, then scooped up another of the scattered guns, which he aimed at the Cyberleader's chest. Damon went to stand quietly beside the Doctor.

"Leave now, before I decide to finish you both off," Ferain ordered the Cyberleader. "And take your dead with you."

"We shall meet again, Time Lord," the Cyberleader intoned. It gestured to the trooper and together they carried the bodies of their fallen colleagues towards a large, cylindrical ship parked near a large hatch.

"I don't think we shall," Ferain muttered as the ship dematerialised.

"You let them go? After what they did to Langley?" stormed Walker.

"They have a destiny to fulfil!" Ferain snapped. "Anyway, they will pay for your friend's death in due course."

Damon, standing next to the Doctor, seemed to be in shock.

"Are you alright?" the Doctor asked, noticing that all the colour seemed to have drained from his companion's face.

Damon turned haunted eyes on his mentor. "I killed a sentient being."

"You didn't have a choice," the Doctor told him firmly. "That's why creatures like the Cybermen must be stopped. Because they don't give us choices. You did what you had to do, if that helps at all."

Damon smiled weakly. "It does, a little. Thank you, Doctor."

"Oh, don't thank me Damon. I just do my best."

Ferain snapped his fingers at them. "Come along, we don't have all day." He marched off through the crates towards the TARDIS.

"Sorry about him," the Doctor said to Walker. "Goodbye, Mister Walker."

"Goodbye Doctor, Damon," Walker replied. "Good luck."

Damon nodded his farewell to the man and followed the Doctor and Ferain through the hold.

***

Ferain gestured towards the TARDIS console with his Glitter Gun. "I'll let you take the piloting duties on the return trip," he said. Then he seemed to notice the weapon in his hand. Frowning, he handed it to Damon.

The younger Time Lord looked at the weapon, and the one he still had in his other hand. "What shall I do with these Doctor?"

The Doctor had set the TARDIS in flight. Now he turned to see Damon's burden. "Oh, put them in the storage locker over there," he said, waving across the console.

As Damon went in search of the storage locker, the Doctor turned to Ferain. "I suppose you'll be turning me over for the completion of my sentence when we return?"

"Not my choice, Doctor."

"I didn't say it was. But I see that the Statenhiem Remote Control has been removed from the console. There must be a reason for that."

Ferain nodded. "You are very perceptive. No wonder you have survived this perilous lifestyle you seem to enjoy for so long."

The Doctor frowned. "Thank you for your honesty."

Ferain almost smiled. "My pleasure, Doctor."

***

The TARDIS shrieked its arrival in cradle twelve, where two Chancellery Guards waited for it to solidify. The door creaked open and Ferain stepped out, followed by the Doctor and Damon.

The Doctor noticed the Guards standing to attention. "For me? I should feel flattered."

"What's going on?" Damon asked as Ferain beckoned the Guards forward.

"I'm being sent into exile, Damon," the Doctor told him. "We have made our last journey together."

Damon turned to Ferain. "Must you do this? The Doctor is a good man. He deserves better treatment than this."

"That may be so," Ferain conceded. "But we all have our orders to follow. Mine are to deliver the Doctor for sentence to be carried out. Yours are to report for your regular shift in the monitoring station."

For a moment it looked like Damon was going to defy Ferain. Then he broke eye contact and turned instead to the Doctor.

"I hope we shall meet again one day," he said, holding his hand out to the elder Time Lord.

"I'm sure we will. Look after yourself, Damon." The two of them shook hands warmly.

"Your shift is about to begin," Ferain reminded the younger man.

With a final wave, Damon left the area of the TARDIS cradles.

"Now, Doctor, if you would like to follow me." Ferain led the way, the Doctor following and the two Guards falling in step behind him.

"Damon will be alright, won't he?" the Doctor asked, concern etched into his features.

"Why shouldn't he be?" Ferain stated. He maintained his pace, so the Doctor had to hurry to keep up.

"I just don't want him to suffer unduly because you might think he's picked up bad habits from me," the Doctor replied.

"Has he picked up bad habits from you?" Ferain inquired.

"Of course not!" the Doctor exclaimed.

"Then that won't be a problem, will it?" Ferain opened a door and led the Doctor into a white walled room with a couch in the centre.

The Doctor sniffed. "Antiseptic. I never did like hospitals."

A white robed Time Lord appeared from an adjoining room. "Is this the patient?"

"Well, I'm not usually known for my patience," the Doctor replied with a little smile.

"Yes, he is," Ferain said to the other Time Lord.

"Very good." The white robed medical technician turned to the Doctor. "Can you lie down on the couch and roll up your sleeve?"

"Yes, I can," the Doctor said. But he didn't move, just remained standing exactly where he was.

"Please Doctor, don't play games," Ferain growled.

"Well, he asked a question, I answered it," the Doctor retorted. "If he wanted me to do it, why didn't he just say?"

Ferain sighed, holding his annoyance in check as the Doctor climbed up onto the couch and rolled up the right sleeve of his shabby frock coat, followed by the sleeve of his shirt.

The medical technician selected a gas-powered hypodermic from a tray of instruments and checked the settings. "Now, this won't hurt a bit."

"In that case, why don't you try it first?" the Doctor asked.

"Doctor!" Ferain snarled. The Doctor just smiled at him.

The hypo hissed against the Doctor's arm. All the colour drained from his face.

"Oh, I feel quite light headed," he exclaimed. His eyes started to glaze over. "Oh dear, I think I'm going to faint. Jamie? Jamie, where are you? Zoe? Victoria? Ben, are you there? Where's Polly?"

The medic looked over at Ferain, raising an inquiring eyebrow.

"Former friends of his," the CIA man explained.

The Doctor had slumped back against the couch. His features were beginning to blur. "What's happening to me? Where am I? Who am I?" His voice trailed off as a white light seemed to engulf his body.

Ferain and the medic were forced to cover their eyes against the glowing light. Slowly, it faded, leaving the Doctor changed forever.

Moving over to the side of the couch, Ferain looked down into the face of a different man. Or so it seemed. The new Doctor still had a strong, lined face, but the basic features were very different. The nose was longer, the mouth stronger. White, wavy locks had replaced the Doctor's dark hair. He was also taller and broader. Indeed, despite the bagginess of his frock coat, this new Doctor almost filled it.

"Shall I administer a dose of Beta Olefron?" the medic asked.

Ferain considered. The drug had been developed by the Time Lords to block out the side effects of regeneration. Like memory loss and disorientation.

"No, it will help enforce the memory blocks you will now introduce on the areas of the mind that deal with time travel." He paused in thought for a moment. "Is it possible the regeneration and the drugs will have an effect on his recent memories?"

"Certainly. A lot of what he has experienced in recent weeks will be suppressed at least. Some of it will be lost forever."

"Good," Ferain replied. "Now you may proceed."

The medic nodded, reaching for another hypo full of drugs.

***

Damon was finishing his shift when the Guard turned up at the monitoring section.

"Lord Ferain wants to see you, immediately," the Guard told him.

Damon nodded and followed him. He had been expecting this.

A short time later, he was standing before Ferain's desk. The grey haired Time Lord looked him straight in the eye.

"You're being reassigned, Damon," he said. "From tomorrow, you'll be working in the archives, under Co-ordinator Engin."

"Why am I being demoted?" Damon asked.

"Who says you're being demoted?"

"I do. And you know it. So why?"

"Why do you think?" Ferain inquired.

"Because I've learnt things from the Doctor. Things like independence. What it's like on other worlds. How others see the Universe."

Ferain steepled his fingers, considering Damon. Finally he spoke. "Well, if that's what you think, fair enough. You will report to Engin in the morning."

Damon turned to leave, then a thought occurred. "Has the Doctor left yet?"

Ferain frowned. "I've not heard," he replied honestly. He pushed a button on his desk. "Has the Doctor's treatment been completed?"

"We've just administered the last of the memory inhibitors," the voice of the medic told him.

"Very well, I shall be there shortly." He looked up at Damon. "Would you like to see him, once more?" Damon nodded. "Then follow me."

***

Between them, Ferain and Damon supported the white haired man in the black frock coat, easing him through the doors of the TARDIS. They helped him slump into an armchair near the console.

Ferain bent over the console, setting co-ordinates from a datapad beside him.

"Will he be alright?" Damon asked, watching the comatose form of a Doctor he didn't even recognise.

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Ferain said. "Now, unless you want a one way trip to Earth, we should go. I've set the TARDIS on a countdown. We have ten seconds."

For a moment Damon almost decided to stay. Then he thought 'What would the Doctor want me to do?' The last thing his Time Lord friend would want was for Damon to give up the life he had on Gallifrey on a whim, or for the sake of the Doctor himself.

His mind made up, Damon stepped out of the TARDIS, seconds before the doors swung shut and the grating roar of materialisation began.

Together Damon and Ferain watched the Police Box shape vanish from cradle twelve, on its way to Earth.

"Happy landings, Doctor," Damon murmured before turning away to begin his new life.

Authors Notes: This is the final story in my Season 6b adventures of the 2nd Doctor, sandwiched between The War Games and Spearhead From Space.

