--Logan Persail Smith, "Afterthoughts," Life and Human Nature
He stood up. He was in his bedroom. The only source of light came from the large, illuminated circles that were indented on the walls in a repetitive pattern. Shelves, set onto the walls, displayed countless artifacts, nick-knacks and other strange objects he'd collected during the course of his travels.
Recovered, he left the room and strode down a long corridor. Branching off from the corridor were many more corridors, which themselves had many more corridors branching off of them. As he walked, his footsteps echoed and reechoed off the many walls.
As he journeyed through the labyrinth, he suddenly caught a whiff of scrambled eggs and bacon. This was strange. He peered at his wristwatch. It was almost quarter to ten. Ace usually isn't up until eleven-thirty, he thought. His stomach grumbled, and he decided to join her for breakfast.
He continued through the corridors until he came to a doorway with "Food dispenser" marked in pencil on it. The Doctor smiled at a sign of Ace's attempt to familiarize herself with the many rooms of the TARDIS. He opened the door.
"Up already?" he began as he entered the room, only to discover there was nobody within. He peered at the fridge-like food dispenser that sat against the wall and the plate of bacon and eggs that sat on a tray emerging from an open panel. He looked over the controls, trying to find a reason for the unordered preparation, but came up empty.
"Well, I wouldn't want good food to go to waste," he muttered. He picked up a fork from a nearby counter and began to eat. After finishing breakfast and having a quick shower, the Doctor proceeded to another room, this time with "Console Room" marked on it in pencil. He looked inside.
Still, no one there.
He walked to the hexagonal control console that dominated the room. It was covered in an array of control dials, keyboards and levers. The words "TARDIS Log: Ready for Today's Entry:" were displayed on the console's computer screen.
With a fresh handkerchief, he wiped off newly-fallen dust resting on top of the illuminated glass cylinder that gently rose and fell in the center of the console. He walked around, looking at the controls, and stopped at the Log. After a moment's hesitation, he turned on a microphone and began to speak.
"It's been two months now that I left Ace behind. I don't think I'll ever know why she wanted to help rebuild that town, especially when there was almost nothing left when the Kyta-Sho army left it, and Earth for that matter. Maybe that Russian soldier I saw her with had something to do with her decision.
"I had that dream again. Night after night, I just stand before that burning building, frozen, watching Ace die in the flames. If only I could remove it from my head. It didn't happen that way.
"I'm actually considering ending my travels and returning the TARDIS to Gallifrey. Since Ace left, things haven't been the same. Is this what becomes of a Time Lord when they're nearing a thousand?"
Finishing his log entry, he turned off the screen. Then he blinked. "Wait a minute," he exclaimed. "I didn't even turn that screen on!" He was about to check the screen again when he was surprised to find it had already turned itself on. This time, a surge of static pulsed on the controls.
"What's happening?" He watched in astonishment as other surges of static began to flow over the console. The TARDIS shuddered, then began to shake so violently, the Doctor was thrown to the floor. He shielded his face as loose objects flew by. He desperately tried to grab hold of the console. He yanked his fingers back as the static charged through his arm with a jolt.
The panels covering the scanner screen parted and the Doctor could see the ocean of stars and galaxies which floated outside the TARDIS. His attention instantly focused on a distant, fast moving cloud of shimmering, multicoloured light that was heading directly for the TARDIS.
As the TARDIS continued to shake, the Doctor grabbed hold of the console with all his might and reached with his other hand for the navigation controls. His fingers were inches away from the stabilize button when the cloud of light collided with the TARDIS and emerged directly into the console room. The shaking redoubled, and the Doctor was thrown from the console and landed hard against one of the walls.
As he tried to get his breath back, he glared at the cloud of light. Its size was hard to gauge. On the scanner, it had looked massive. Inside the console room, it was only six feet long by six feet high, but it still looked menacing. It slowly approached the Doctor.
"What are you?" he shouted desperately. The cloud of light didn't answer. It floated up to the Doctor and enveloped his small frame. His cries of terror were absorbed along with the rest of him. The cloud began to contract, the shadowy form within struggling wildly. Finally, the cloud was less than a foot in diameter, and the Doctor had disappeared.
Then the Doctor reappeared a split-second later, staring at the controls. The cloud of light faded into nothingness, along with the surges of static pulsing throughout the console room. The violent shaking ceased.
The Doctor peered around the console room with desolate eyes. The pupils seemed to contract and enlarge mechanically as he peered at different objects. He spotted a mirror which hung on one of the walls and walked over to it. He checked his appearance, then nodded, satisfied.
"Transference complete. Mission is now in effect."
Millions of light years away from Earth, in the Kasterborus system, lay a planet similar to Earth. Beneath the faint vermilion clouds of a peaceful azure sky, lay a vast landscape of ancient withered fields and barren hills. The people had abandoned the countryside ages ago. Near the equator, completely isolated from the barren wastes, stood skyscrapers of shimmering metal, aeroways, flourishing gardens, gently flowing (though strictly controlled) streams and dome houses. Two buildings stood out from the rest; the long and thin communications tower, and the massive shape the Doctor would have recognized as the Panopticon. Within the cities of Gallifrey, the Time Lords went about their business.
Within the communications tower, a Gallifreyan technician sipped a steaming, nice smelling, sapphire blue drink in a mug. He lay back in his chair, monitoring the two rows of visual screens showing different areas within the citadel, as well as a brief glimpse of what lay outside its boundaries. Occasionally, he gave a clearance check of local traveling aero-cars, maintenance space modules and, sometimes, a few TARDISes.
One of the monitors suddenly flickered and the middle-aged face of the Doctor beamed back at the technician. "This is the Doctor, asking for clearance for a Type-40 TARDIS," he said.
The technician frowned. "Doctor?" he mumbled. "I think I've heard of you-"
"That's nice and all, but could you just get on with it?" asked the Doctor impatiently.
The technician was caught off guard by the Doctor's forcefulness. Most Time Lords weren't so impatient. "Oh, sorry. What's your clearance code number?"
The Doctor scowled. "Clearance code number?! I, the Doctor, the one who stopped the conquering of Gallifrey more times than he can remember? I ask for a simple meeting within the Panopticon, and you ask me for a clearance code number?"
"Well, uh," the technician stuttered, shocked at the Doctor's temper. "I'll get your clearance check confirmed by Space Traffic Control. I'll just call Space Traffic Control. If you could just wait a moment, sir-"
The Doctor grinned suddenly. "Why, thank you! Sure, I will!" The view monitor flickered again and returned to showing a barren hill, with a small cabin at its base.
The technician brushed his hair away from his eyebrows. "Strange fellow," he muttered. Remembering the Doctor's temper, he immediately radioed Space Traffic Control.
The Doctor turned away from the view screen within the TARDIS. He looked over the other controls on the console.
"Clearance being confirmed," he muttered to himself. His voice was a dull monotone. "Am now waiting to land the Time Lord Space/Time machine within Political and Security building called the Panopticon."
He went over to the console's computer database and typed-in commands on the keyboard. A computer screen flickered to life. "TARDIS Data Bank: Requested Information:" The Doctor typed in more words onto the keyboard. They appeared on the screen. "Chameleon Circuit."
Within the Panopticon, in one of the lower levels, the Operator at Space Traffic Control sat at his office desk, in a brightly lit, finely furnished office. He was going over Import/Export statistics on a read-out screen which hovered a few centimeters above his desk.
The statistics suddenly disappeared and the harried face of the technician from the Communications Tower appeared. "This is Control Tower. I have a request for the clearance of a Type-40 TARDIS through the Planetary Transduction Barrier."
"Clearance okayed and logged in," the Space Traffic Control Operator said while typing the information on a keyboard built into his desk. The information was entered into the Time Lord data banks.
The Operator pressed a button on his keyboard and the Import/Export statistics returned. He was about to reexamine this information when he thought he heard the sound of grating engines nearby. Frowning, he cleared the statistics and typed in a request; the read-out screen immediately showed a view of what lay outside the Operator's office: endless, dreary white hallways.
No one was there.
The Operator's old, frail form got up from the desk and wobbled to a door near the exit, marked "CONTROL PERSONNEL ONLY". It slid back to reveal a small hallway, lined with office and janitorial supplies, a bathroom, and an open area containing racks of Operator uniforms and two large mainframe computers.
Again, no one was there.
The Operator shrugged, and returned to his desk. He thought nothing more of the strange noise and called up the Import/Export statistics again.
Back in the room marked "CONTROL PERSONNEL ONLY", the flashing dials of one of the large mainframes suddenly stopped. Then the whole front of the mainframe opened.
As the Operator finished examining the last group of statistics on the hovering read-out screen, he leaned back in his chair. His work for the day was finished, though he still had a few hours before his shift was over. "Ah, well," he mumbled to himself. "Might as well catch a few winks." He rearranged himself in the chair, and slowly drifted off to sleep.
A powerful hand suddenly clasped the Operator's neck and squeezed. The Time Lord's eyes snapped open, and he struggled to breath but, seconds later, when it snapped, he couldn't. The lifeless body fell to the floor, its eyes frozen permanently in fear.
The hand of the murderer went to the keyboard and typed, "CLEARANCE OF PRODUCE FREIGHTER GRANTED AT 3.26 HOURS PAST SECOND SUNRISE."
The Doctor straightened up, and spoke to the air. "Your clearance has been granted. You may land at scheduled time. Transduction Barriers down... now."
The Doctor's cold eyes peered down at the broken body of the Operator.