A Continuum Of Doctors

"It's all right Gabriel. Hello, Savvy." A semi-sleepy hug for the Doctor as well -- the linen closet is so very warm and cozy. "Did someone say something about a planet going boom or whatever? Is there anything I can do?"

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Savannah looks up at the projection. "Wait...that's outside? Are they...can they get in?" Worried!

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Yes, right. So he's sitting in the control room. That works.

"If they're hostile, they'll not be hurting anyone here." He sounds tired, but there is and undertone of titanium spine in his words.

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"No. They won't. At least, I'm reasonably certain they won't." He struggles to remember his legal standing amongst his own people as of now. It was ... decent, wasn't it? Last time he left, he was getting on rather well with the Lord President, the CIA were at a bit of a nadir, he'd extracted his own House and things were going well, right? Right?

He opens the doors so they don't have to actually complete the cipher-intent breakin, and several guards come trooping in, stasar-pistols at the ready.

"Unauthorised capsule operator, you are hereby ordered, on directive of the Castellan, to--Oh. It's you, Doctor."

Mass rather awkward lowering of weaponry.

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They're somewhere in vastness of space, there's been a miscommunication and people have weapons aimed at them? Must be a Tuesday then.

Lan politely smiles at the guards and waits for the Doctor to do whatever sort of diplomatic (ha!) thing that needs doing.

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Savannah doesn't take weapons pointed at her quite as well as Lan does. She eeps and tries to hide behind Lan, but realizes there are people with weapons over there as well, but manages to keep her mouth shut, which may help her get out of this alive.

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Gabriel doesn't either, considering the last time someone pointed a gun at him, it ended in bloody, painful death. Luckily, he's also in control of himself to not do anything too stupid.

Of course, this depends on your definition of 'stupid.'

He throws up a teke shield, between the invaders and his companions--not enough to stop a cannon, but enough to hold off at least one wave of bullets... or whatever is in the guns. It's invisible, but who knows what Gallifreyans can sense?

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They're all looked at curiously. One Doctor, four non-Gallifreyans, one of whom is clearly alien, one of whom carries weaponry, one of whom is clearly psionic...

"Drop the psi-sheild," one of them starts, raising his weapon again, but is silenced by another one and motioned to drop his aim again.

Especially since another individual is walking into the TARDIS now. What is this, Gallifreyan Grand Central Station? This one's wearing robes of varying shades of brown, a medallion, and a troubled expression that only clears somewhat when he sees the Doctor.

"Stand down," he tells the guards, and they do, holstering their weapons. He looks at the Doctor again with a sigh. "Doctor."

"Castellan." The Doctor looks, if at all possible, a little more nervous.

"I take it you've heard the rumours." The Castellan, usually a vigorous individual, looks harried. More so than usual, having the thankless job of running security for President Romanadvoratrelundar. "They're more than rumours."

That? That makes the Doctor squirm. He looks back at the others with an expression that clearly says not a word, before returning his attention to the Time Lord before him. "I ... suspected as much. I want to help."

This is either the best news he's heard in ages or the nail in the coffin, the Castellan isn't sure. "You should come with me. All of you. At least to someplace safer than a TT capsule." It sounded like a request, but a request that'd probably best be agreed to.

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Until the Doctor tells her otherwise (or it seems like a good idea), Lan will trail along as a quiet, polite sort of guest. She's never been to Gallifrey and might as well enjoy the scenery while they're there.

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Savannah will follow, though not as enthusiastically as Lan.

She whispers to the Doctor: "are we being taken prisoner?"

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Gabriel complies and drops the shield, more out of surprise than anything else. Not only did they sense it, knew it was there, but they hadn't treated it any differently than anything or anyone else.

He'll follow behind Savannah, poking her when she asks her question. Shush, says the look on his face.

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The TARDIS is locked behind them and they leave the vast chamber.

"No, we're not," the Doctor whispers back to Savannah.
At least not right now. But he doesn't say that last part, even though he knows how quickly things can change.

Flanked though they are by guards, the procession is a relatively quiet one, led through back hallways and less-travelled corridors.

"I'm reasonably certain the Lady President was going to summon you soon, at any rate," the Castellan observes after several moments of this corridor-walking. "We've needed to establish contact with almost everyone." The tone of his voice leaves little ambiguity. Yes, everyone.

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... Is he the one carrying weaponry? Prrrobably. Along with an innocent look, charming grin, and swagger.

Jack will bring up the rear (which is theoretically a good thing) and ... not keep quiet. "Sorry, for those of us who haven't heard the rumors that're more than rumors - " He motions at himself and his not-Gallifreyan-companions, " - could we maybe get the cliff notes version?"

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"Aye, I'm... not that familiar with Gallifreyan politics. Or much of anything else for that matter." He tries for a grin, but it comes out a bit lopsided. He doesn't feel the least like smiling right now.

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Their questions go unanswered for a few beats, but only that long, as they're shown into a room with a conference table and several chairs.

They're in said room alone--just Gabriel, Savannah, Lan, Jack, the Doctor, and the Castellan. No guards accompanied them, but two had stopped to flank the outside of the doors, which are now closed behind them.

"The rumours that we are at war," the Castellan answers, looking at the rest of them. "They're more than rumours. Gallifrey is at war. A war it hasn't seen the likes of for millennia."

His eyes find the Doctor's, but the Doctor's mind is carefully shielded. He remembers a few of the tricks his previous self used to use, after all.

"You were going to call me to help you, weren't you?" the Doctor asks after a beat. It sounded like a collective you.

"The Lady President wanted to from the beginning. The others ... stalled such actions."

"I don't doubt. Ferain, still angry, probably others. What of you?" The Doctor finds a chair and leans on it, but doesn't sit.

The Castellan breaks his gaze from the Doctor's. "Leela wished to have you return. Her faith is strong. K-9 advised me the same--"

The Doctor breaks him off. "Yes, but you?"

"Can you do it again? Save Gallifrey like you've done before? Like you've saved countless other worlds?"

There's a pause. The two Time Lords stare at each other, but their shielded minds give up very little. The Doctor's gaze breaks first, this time. He looks at the others as if to warn them not to speak again. Looks about the room. Drops his gaze to his own hands.

"You know I can't answer that," he starts. At the change in the other's expression, he continues. "You also know I'll do everything in my power to help. And that's all that I can say."

The Time Lord didn't exactly look mollified, but he looked a little less desperate.

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When in doubt, it's best to just look pretty and interested in the topic. She's used to people overlooking her or just deciding that she's a delicate, none-too-bright bit of fluff. That's fine by her.

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"Ah. If it's a question of help, I'll throw in." No telling how much help he'd be, but it's his nature. Every Gallifreyan he's known has helped him, or at least been kind enough to offer.

And well, if everyone else is safe, so is his daughter.

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Savannah shoots a glance at her dad. This was a war with time lords. Her father was neither time lord nor soldier, what could he do besides pick up things with his thoughts? And couldn't the time lords do this, if they had reason to?

But she says nothing at all.

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The Doctor spares them a glance, especially Gabriel, before returning his attention to the Castellan. He takes a breath to speak and is interrupted.

"These beings couldn't possibly understand--" the Castellan starts, but the Doctor cuts him off.

"They do. As much as anyone can. Maybe not the ins and outs of Gallifreyan politics, but they understand what's at stake."

There's a pause. More staring, or possibly more telepathic conference. But just as the silence seems to reach an unbearable tension, the door opens again. For an out-of-the-way room, the place certainly was seeing a lot of traffic. The guards bow as a small woman of indeterminate age walks in. Judging by the elabourate white and silver robes, it's safe to assume she is a Time Lord of high rank. The fact that the Castellan bows to her, as well, only reinforces that impression. The shoulder-length straight blonde hair and vaguely amused look, however, don't really go terribly well with the aura of immense respect every Gallifreyan other than the Doctor seems to have toward her.

"Doctor," she says, smiling up at him.

"Romana." At an incredulous look from the Castellan, he amends, "Madam President."

The President, however, peers past the Doctor, taking in the sight of the assembled beings behind him. Then she looks at the Doctor again. "I think there's hope, Doctor," she says, looking up at him solemnly, now. She doesn't have to look up very far, but upward she looks, anyway.

Then the moment ends, and she shows everyone who wasn't sitting already to seats. This is something that requires sitting, you see.

Her eyes never leaving the Doctor's, she waits until everyone has done so, then starts to explain the situation. The increasing takeover of various streams of the Vortex. The temporal twisting. The growing sickness of time itself and the destruction of so many worlds. The Doctor's extinguishing of Skaro's sun with the Hand of Omega had only made things worse. Fuelled the hatred. Caused them to increase their drive and their numbers. Far from destroying them, as he'd hoped, he'd done more than earn for himself the rather vitriolic title of "Bringer of Darkness" in a language they didn't even use any more. He'd broken the last restraint. Things had degenerated into an all-out vendetta. A war of blind, unremitting hatred. Negotiation was impossible.

It had come to this. Fighting on countless temporal fronts. For every vortex stream the Time Lords shut down, another was opened, death raging across it. Bringing the fighting ever closer to Gallifrey itself.

"You're the only one who really knows how to fight them, Doctor."

He closes his eyes. He'd been expecting it, and yet ... this would be how it ends? So many depending on his accumulated knowledge? How does he fail them?

He opens them again and looks at her gravely. "Where do we begin? All of us?"

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"Madame President...?" Christ, it sounded like an impossible task. He was smart enough not to say 'we're not even supposed to be here', but he was starting to wonder if the Doctor had his head screwed on correctly.

"I will do anything within my power to help you. I was helped more than a few times, and I owe my sanity to your Lord Rassilon. My..." He looks over at Savannah. Well, shit. "... daughter is here with me. I'd request if at all possible that she be kept safe." You know, if. There's always an if.

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This is why Jack Harkness is here, actually. He let this whole mess slip to the Doctor's eighth regeneration - the Time War and how it ends - and, in the aftermath, promised to stand beside him when the Doctor made his decision regarding Gallifrey. Here they are, probably attempting to change history (technically before it happens), and ... he's pretty relaxed about that, actually, for an ex-Time Agent who perfectly understands the repercussions of what's going on.

He leans forward in his chair at the table, all-business (look, he's not even flirting with the gorgeous Lady President of Gallifrey!), and glances between the Doctor and the President. "You know I'm in, Doctor. Whatever I can do, whatever needs to be done, I can do it." Oh, he's confident, though no entirely sure if he should mention (in this particular setting) that he's faced Daleks before and feels, at least, a little more knowledgeable than most humans by the experience.

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There's terribly puzzled blinking from Romana and from the Castellan, but before they manage to ask any questions that'd take about an hour and a half to answer, the Doctor utters the infamous line:

"I'll explain later."

Looking at Gabriel, he glances at Savannah, and then returns his gaze to him. "I don't know what can be done to keep her completely safe. But we'll do everything we can."

Then his gaze shifts to Jack. Are there words? Probably not. Just the eye contact alone says enough.

"But what do they know of our enemy? Do they know how the Daleks fight?" the Castellan asked.

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Savannah very much approves of the motion to keep her safe. A few years ago, she would have protested at this lack of faith in her own self-reliance. But She knows the fate of Gallifrey, and would rather not be erased from time, thank you.

"I've met a Dalek. They have plungers, right? And can't go up stairs?"

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Jack straightens up at the question from the Castellan, prepared to answer that yes of course he knows about the enemy and how they fight, though he'd probably tactfully refrain from mentioning that his experience comes from a relative time future after the Time War with the Doctor's ninth regeneration.

And speaking of tactful, Jack sort of sits with his mouth slack from almost speaking while Savannah cuts in with ... what!? The Captain shoots her a look. A rather indescribable look of confused ... is that horror?

Right. Right? He schools his attention back towards the Lady President and Castellan. "I've fought Daleks before." The confidence in his voice, of course, is going to make up for Savannah's questions. Hopefully.

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