“Connections”

By: Shahn-Ryan Schumacher

A Time Lord’s rapport with his TARDIS runs deeps: especially during the trials of regeneration and its aftermath.

Gone. It was all gone. Austerity; it was gone. Haughtiness; it was gone. Everything had changed. When he looked in the mirror now, it wasn’t the long white hair and high forehead that greeted him in return. The prominent nose and high cheekbones had been replaced with an air of clownish buffoonery that came as a refreshing change to the individual. Oh, he thought, the wonders of regeneration. Bright blue eyes smiled back at the man from the mirror. In his previous incarnation, the Doctor, as he was known, was something of a crotchety grandfather. Hiding his concern beneath a façade of bluster, the Doctor roamed the universe in an antiquated Type Forty TARDIS often in the company of younger human companions.

The Doctor was pleased with what he saw. The regeneration couldn’t have gone any more smoothly. Well, he assumed that it couldn’t. This had been his first regeneration, and although he had been afraid of the unknown, the renewing feeling brought to him by the biochemical process also excited him. Sighing, the Time Lord turned away from the mirror and blindly meandered the labyrinthine corridors of the TARDIS towards the console room.

The ship had brought the Doctor and his companions Ben and Polly to Earth in the summer of nineteen sixty-seven. To him, it seemed like it had been only a matter of months since he had last seen the planet that he considered his second home. The city of London was still the same and when Ben and Polly stepped out of the ship with looks of surprised bemusement on their faces, the Doctor had only smiled and bade them enjoy themselves. He said that he would stay in the TARDIS and meditate. Claiming that he needed the solitude, he wanted the chance to reconcile the death of his old body with the birth of his new. Ben and Polly didn’t question his reasons and promptly left to seek out London’s swinging club scene.

What the Doctor had neglected to tell Ben and Polly was that he had, in fact, already come to terms with his regeneration and become used to his new body. It wasn’t pure luck that had landed them on Earth. Shortly after his regeneration, the Doctor had been forced to battle his greatest enemies, the Daleks, on the planet Vulcan and foiled their plans to convert the jungle planet into a base of operations. In that time, the Doctor had neglected to see to the TARDIS. He wasn’t the only one who needed time to adjust to the change.

In all his travels throughout space and time, the TARDIS had been the Doctor’s one constant companion. The bond between operator and machine had grown interfused until at last they were joined in a perfect state of symbiosis. Every ache, every pain, every emotional jar that the Doctor felt reverberated through the TARDIS’ cybernetic core with the force of a tidal wave. When the Time Lord was outside the ship, there was precious little that could be done to help. However, when the Doctor was in the confines of his extra-dimensional space-time vehicle, the TARDIS bore the brunt of every attack.

To the Doctor’s companions, there was nothing out of the ordinary, but he knew better. As the ship was keyed to his brainwave patterns, he noticed every subtle shift, every change in nuance that permeated the atmosphere of the TARDIS. All that was required was a slight shift in the cybernetic core whereby the psychic harmonics of his brainwaves and the core would once again be perfectly aligned. Until that happened, the ship was a potential danger to not only him and his companions, but also itself.

In the console room, the Doctor’s hands moved with fluid grace over the console. Shedding the pretense of not being able to pilot his craft, the Time Lord severed the TARDIS’ link with its real-world interface. Not that it mattered, no outside force could penetrate the TARDIS exterior without a key, and in the event that Ben and Polly returned, they would never know that the Doctor and the TARDIS proper had been gone. The ship and he himself would be waiting for them as if nothing had ever happened.

Completing the commands, the time rotor lurched upward from its niche in the center of the console. The lights dimmed before an electric blue glow lent itself to the ship giving it an otherworldly quality. Outside, in the street, the light atop the police box flashed and faded away and the bright blue appearance faded leaving the ship’s exterior a pale imitation of its usual vibrant blue.

The ship was gone. All that remained of the TARDIS on Earth was merely a three-dimensional shadow of its true self. Casting a satisfied glance at the console, the Doctor noticed that the time rotor danced in an odd rhythm of glass and multi-coloured light. Letting out a deep sigh, the Time Lord crossed the console room and hesitantly laid a hand on the door that led to the ship’s interior. A familiar throb met him in return, which caused him to smile to himself. He moved his hand to the door’s handle to let himself in when a psychic pulse rolled across his conscious mind with the force of a tidal wave breaking upon the shore. The wave left upon his mind the impression of standing on an endless plain bathed in the late afternoon glow of orange-red light cast by a dying sunset. Through the gusty breezes along the plain came a cry of pain in a female voice. As the impression faded from the Doctor’s conscious memory, he was filled with a great urgency. His ship needed him. Tugging on the door, the Time Lord entered the mental universe of the TARDIS’ cybernetic sentience.

The image that greeted the Doctor’s eyes did not entirely surprise him. The corridor seemed as a still from a black and white picture show. A verbal cry of pain echoed in the air before the scene around the Doctor shifted. As if it were melting wax, the corridor slowly dissolved around him. Before the transformation was complete, the scene froze for a split second before exploding outward sending what appeared to be glass like shards into a million directions. The Doctor was amazed but did not fear. He was in direct contact with the mind of the TARDIS itself and his surroundings could have no impact on him physically. The TARDIS knew her master; more importantly, the Doctor knew the TARDIS. With the now swirling maelstrom increasing in its intensity, the Time Lord ventured forth intent upon helping his ship; his friend.

Somewhere deeper in the mental universe of the TARDIS’ sentience, a lone pulse of psychic energy separated itself from the endless swirling vortex: expanding and unfolding. The vortex shrank away into insignificance leaving a lone figure draped in a flowing white robe, stood with a regal pose. Before the figure stood a crystalline bier on which was a silken white cloth. Atop the cloth of the bier rested an elderly figure as if in deep sleep. Long white hair was swept back from a high forehead. High cheekbones and a prominent nose with thin lips detailed the elderly figure’s face and he was clad in a high-collared shirt, waistcoat and pince-nez. He had on checked trousers and a black frock coat. Hands rested on the elderly man’s abdomen clasped together in perfect peace. A setting sun backlit the man’s still form and gave the figure in the white robe an aura of bright yellow-white as the robe caught and scattered the dying rays of light. A moderate wind blew the cowl back from the figure’s head revealing luxurious strands of flowing silver hair piled on the head and held in place by a thin silver band. The wind rustled the green grass at the feet of the woman and proceeded to race down the small rise of rolling emerald green. Eyes that were as green as the grass filled with the diamond sparkle of unshed tears and after a moment a single tear managed to course a path down the ancient wrinkled face that was careworn but not unkind. She laid a trembling hand, palm down, on the gnarled hands of the elderly man and interlaced his fingers with her own. Sinking to her knees in despair, a single guttural wail escaped her lips, the very act itself holding a universe of pain locked into her solitary cry, “Doctor!”

The mental corridor that the Doctor found himself in was a vortex of grey smoke. The swirling bands reminded him of the cyclonic action of a hurricane. From in front of him, multi-coloured points of light shot through the vortex, dispersing the grey until a faintly iridescent vortex replaced it. Fading almost to obscurity, a million points of starlight sparkled at the Time Lord. As he focused on any individual point, it zoomed in and replayed and instant from the Doctor’s past. He saw an episode with his first human companions, Ian and Barbara and caught some of the conversation from the end of their first adventure together. To the Doctor, it was like he was seeing the scene through a red filter and the feeling of anger slammed into him like a fist. The Doctor heard Ian and his first self engaging in a heated exchange…

“Did you try to take us back?”

“I got you away from that other place, didn’t I?”

“That isn’t what I asked you!”

“It’s the only way I can answer you young man!”

The scene promptly vanished away into a distant memory and as the Doctor’s mental essence drifted down the psychic corridor, the feminine wail resounded through the empty wastes. Other varied memories from the Doctor’s past played themselves out, coloured by the various emotions—blue for depression, green for jealousy and gold for joy. He felt each emotion like a sharp knife in each of his twin hearts. Underlying each experience was a strange sense of bittersweet melancholy. He could feel the TARDIS’ own sense of what seemed to be akin to pleasant regret that accompanied each memory. He continued his mental voyage closer to the core of his ship.

* * * * *

In the TARDIS console room, the effects of the degradations could be seen, as the need to realign core harmonics with the Doctor’s brainwaves grew evermore urgent. During the time in his first body, the relationship had grown comparable to that of husband and wife. With the one gone, in a sense, how could the other continue to live? The usual glaring brightness of the console room walls gradually faded to a dead and musty grey. From out of thin air formed the very essence of spider webs that draped over the room as if someone had carelessly tipped over a rubbish bin full of dust. Great snaking cracks coursed over the walls and the console itself seemed to transform into a dead artefact that cracked and began to rust. The TARDIS was dying.

* * * * *

The old woman didn’t notice the shabby form of the Second Doctor approach and when he laid a hand on the spectral form’s shoulder, she flinched in surprise. Not turning to face this newcomer, she hoarsely moaned, “He’s gone.” Unable to control her grief, she collapsed into heart-wrenching sobs. The Doctor looked around to see whom it was the woman was referring. The landscape changed to softly rolling, emerald hills that showed nothing but lightly windswept grass. Suddenly, just in front of the spot where the woman knelt, the grass receded back into itself. Lit as from underneath, the crystal bier rose out of the pseudo earth bearing the dead form of the Doctor’s first body. Suddenly the Doctor understood. Somehow, in a way that he could only begin to guess at, the problem ran deeper. In the aftermath of the incident with the Cybermen at the South Pole, he had been immediately thrust into the deadly face-off with the Daleks on Vulcan. In the relative ensuing chaos, the Doctor had not had time to spend in psychic affinity with the TARDIS for the needed realignment to become complete. Suddenly he remembered it all. Ben and Polly had been in near hysterics as to what had just happened to him and with their badgering, but well intended questions, the ignorant Earth scientists, the threat of the rebirth of the Daleks…all had nearly cost him his ship. He had been psychically attuned to the TARDIS via telepathy when, beginning with his companions, the psychic link was severed. The TARDIS would have presumed the regeneration to have failed and thus believe that the Doctor had died. Now he fully understood the situation before him: The woman, the bier, his dead first body. He determined he would heal the hurt right then before it went any further.

* * * * *

On the sunny London Street, a battered police box seemed to fade in the afternoon sun, the pale blue leeching away to a neutral grey.

* * * * *

The old woman’s sobs subsided, and she rose from her kneeling position by the bier and faced the Doctor. She spoke with an aged voice that was somehow strong and yet tinged with steel, “Who are you stranger? What business have you with Tsotta?” The woman pronounced the name as thought it were spelt Zota. The name was lost on the Doctor and his puzzlement must have been plain to Tsotta for she said, “My designation is an acronym for ‘The Spirit of the TARDIS’; a rather less-than-ideal expression of Time Lord sentiment for a simple collection of psycho-cybernetic relays that constitute the core of every TARDIS. So called because each TARDIS adopts something of the personality of its operator.” The Doctor said nothing, but his mind was ticking over with possibilities. Before he spoke, though, the image of rolling hills faded like water colours under running water to be replaced with a single room with a lone rocking chair. The bier holding the Doctor’s dead first form materialised near the chair. A single window allowed the fading sun to cast its rays into the room. The Doctor also noticed that the sun appeared to be setting and as if plumbing his thoughts, Tsotta said, “Whoever you are stranger, you have until the sun sets. As the sun fades, so will all that you see around you. Soon, I and all that surrounds me will, in essence, die.”

A look of concern crossed the Doctor’s features and he noticed that Tsotta sat rocking very slowly. A single tear rolled down her cheek. A low moan escaped her lips, “Oh, Doctor.” The response that greeted the cry of despair shocked the Doctor and Tsotta both.

“I’m here.” The Doctor heard the words coming from his mouth, but his voice sounded as though it came from someone else. Tsotta stopped rocking and simply sat still for a moment. With what appeared to be visible difficulty, Tsotta stood and faced the Doctor. Her emerald eyes burned with a green fire whose heat the Doctor could feel deep inside.

“What is this,” the old woman hissed.

“It’s true. I’m here. I am the Doctor.”

“No,” she screamed, “You cannot be! The Doctor is dead. You are here only as a torment. Leave me with my memories. The Doctor is gone and as he is gone, so I go. There is no reason to continue this existence without him. As the sun fades, so I fade. And I warn you stranger, whoever you may be, if you are still here when this all fades into nothingness, then you too will be lost.” Tsotta’s words caused a chill to creep down the Doctor’s spine. He reached out and laid a hand on the old woman’s arm that she angrily snatched away.

“Why do you continue to trifle with me, stranger,” she hissed, “Do you not know that you foolishly risk your life. I am the very essence of thought interspersed with time and space. Now leave me be.” She turned away and the Doctor spoke softly to her back, saying, “Tsotta, I AM the Doctor. I am very much alive and I’ll prove it. Do you remember the Earth’s South Pole in the year nineteen eighty-six?” Tsotta turned back to face the diminutive form of the Second Doctor, a look of puzzlement on her wizened face. Her hair caught the light of the sun, which was beginning to set.

“I…I remember…remember something,” she stammered, “There is so much confusion in my mind all of a sudden.”

“Tell me what you remember,” the Doctor prompted her. Straining to recapture her hazy thoughts, she continued, “There were two humans. One was a young man who was accompanied by a young woman. He was a sailor I believe,”

“Yes,” the Doctor interrupted her, “That’s Ben. Can you remember the woman’s name?”

“Polly,” she said, her face beginning to brighten with a smile, overjoyed that her fragile memories were coming back to her, “The woman’s name was Polly.”

“Yes! That’s it. Do you remember the Cybermen, great hulking men of silver? They were going to conquer the Earth.” Tsotta’s eyes widened as the memories came flooding back, “I remember now,” she cried, “The Doctor was fighting the Cybermen and they were trying to siphon energy from the Earth’s core. However, their planet, Mondas I remember it was called, absorbed too much energy and disintegrated. As a result all the Cybermen expired. And then the Doctor later collapsed in the console room. I could sense his pain, his thoughts were broadcasting on a psychic level that was akin to a radio with the volume turned up. I tried to aid him through his first regeneration. Something must have gone wrong, though. After the regeneration was complete I could still sense his psychic presence for a short time when it suddenly vanished. It was then that I knew he had died. The regeneration had failed.”

“Tsotta, I didn’t die. Before I regenerated, I was worn out by my exertions. Do you recall what I said to Ben and Polly?” She only nodded at him.

“Now, if I wasn’t the Doctor I wouldn’t be able to tell you what I said. I said, ‘This old body of mine is wearing a bit thin!’” Tsotta seemed torn as if what she knew and what she remembered were from two separate people’s lives. The Doctor looked deeply into her eyes and said gently, “Tsotta, it’s me.” She could only turn away, tears coursing trails down her cheeks. The Doctor walked over to his inert first self. Closing his eyes and muttering quietly to himself, he laid a hand on his first incarnation’s chest. His hand began to glow with a fierce silver light. The light grew until it was an aura that surrounded his dead form. His body lifted as if on invisible strings until it appeared to be hovering upright. The light surrounding his first body seemed to cause it to become transparent and grew in brilliance until both Tsotta and the Doctor were forced to take a step back. Tsotta stood transfixed by the scene unfolding before her and was surprised to see the ghostly image of the Doctor’s first form overlaying itself over his current form. Before the transformation was complete, the Doctor’s first body opened his eyes and their voices melded into one as they chorused together, “I…am…the…Doctor.”

The aura surrounding the Second Doctor faded. Tsotta approached him cautiously, but something in his eyes told Tsotta that the man before her was indeed the Doctor. He held out a hand to her and said, “Tsotta, let me help you. Let us be joined again.” She smiled and took the proffered hand. Immediately the ancient woman was suffused with a golden glow and she threw her head back relishing the feeling of being whole once more. Staring into each other’s eyes, the couple chorused, “We are one.” Tsotta’s features were glowing brilliantly and they seemed to flow like molten wax. When the glow faded, a beautiful young woman with the same green eyes and honey coloured hair stood before the Time Lord.

“Thank you, Doctor. The damage has been healed. I owe you my life.”

“And I owe you mine.” She then leaned forward and kissed the Time Lord on the cheek and said, “Farewell,” as she faded away.

The Doctor’s surroundings began to spin and with a blinding flash found him back in the console room. The air of despair had dissipated and the hum of the TARDIS at rest had lost the edge that it had previously held. He smiled and at the sound of voices coming nearer, and looked up in time to see the console room’s double door swing open and Ben and Polly enter, laughing.

“I trust you two had a good time,” the Doctor said with a smile.

“Of course, Doctor. Isn’t that right, Duchess?” Ben said.

“True,” came Polly’s reply, “And what of you, Doctor? How did your meditation go?” The Doctor walked over and taking her hand in his, said, “It was fine Polly. I feel,” he paused for a moment before continuing, “quite like my old self. Or should I say my new self?”

“Glad to hear it,” she stated, “You know it was so nice to see London again, and I’m sure one day I’ll want to come back for good, but not just yet. There’s still so much of the universe I haven’t seen yet and I’m not ready to give that up.”

“Neither am I,” Ben added, “So, Doctor, where to next?” Looking up from where he was busy setting the controls on the console, the Doctor only smiled.

The End