It’s been a long while since I walked around in this universe in my head. I had to go back and read the first two parts just to make sure I wasn’t leaving any threads hanging out. I have to say, and I say it humbly, this is actually turning out pretty good. I think once I got through Red Right Hand with a cohesive and workable Who-style ending, the rest is just falling into place. This series, Priests of Paradox, is penultimate, and really just builds to the Infinite Doctor without having to create a 20-30 chapter story.

1. The Abominable Doctor

On the surface of Hiram-Venta III, another dozen of the planet’s seemingly endless ranks of soldiers disappeared in a flash of light. The massive warship that hung above the Jasmine Plains that sprawled outward from the Planetary Imperial Palace, continued to fire upon the terror-stricken soldiers desperately attempt to flee the battlefield to the safety of the palace walls. It was unlike most battles in that there were no bodies of the fallen to avoid, no fresh corpses to hurdle. Only the vehicles of war remained, some still running, some locked into circular paths, some crashing into each other—all empty of pilots and soldiers.

Captain Hetz had envisioned pillars of flame, clouds of ground turned dust littering the air, bits of people and machinery and stone flying in every direction. This was much more unnerving—this was disturbing. The weapons their enemy used left everything intact; the only thing it eliminated were the humanoids. They simply just vanished. They had no time to scream in agony or gurgle or gasp for their last breaths.

Perhaps that is the most disturbing thing, Captain Hetz thought to himself, it’s so damned quiet.

“We’re out of juice!” one of his corporals screamed at his ear.

“I can bloody well hear you! I’m right here!” the Captain bellowed back. They both were exceeding the necessary decibel levels for speech. They didn’t know any other way. They were used to screaming over explosions, and screaming, and dying sounds.

“Sorry, sir,” the corporal whispered, only slightly less loud than his previous bellow. “We’re out of artillery cells.”

“Well, of course we are!” the Captain slightly-less-than-bellowed back. “We’ve been firing at that ship for four hours with out putting a single damned dent in that shielding. Head back to the depot and secure another ten skids, and make it snappy, Corporal Bik.

Corporal Bik nodded his understanding and began to run towards the ammunition depot further back from their position.

“You men hold your positions, and keep watch for ground units!” he bellowed at the rest of his unit.

Behind him, Corporal Bik disappeared in a flash of light. Turning at the sudden flash, Captain Hetz did not witness the rest of his unit disappear in a similar but brighter flash.

Like that, the Captain was alone. He looked around in a daze. As far as he could see, not one Imperial Soldier was to be seen. He was absolutely alone on the battlefield. The Captain sighed, and even his sigh seemed to echo as it was very loud, and the area was very empty.

Hetz was about to turn and make his way back to the palace when he caught sight of a shuttle detaching from the warship overhead.

Here come the conquerors, he mused. Probably headed to the palace to accept the surrender of the Emperor.

The shuttle did not head for the palace, however. Instead, it slowly circled the battlefield, descending slowly as it did so. Eventually, it turned toward the Captain’s position, and having apparently spotted the Captain, it began to move toward him to make its landing.

Captain Hetz shifted uncomfortably on his feet. He considered pulling out his plasma pistol and firing off a few rounds at the shuttle. It was possible that the shuttle had no shielding.

Suppose it’s their Supreme Leader in there, Captain Hetz thought. One well-placed blast and I might turn the tide of the war. I’d be the hero. I’d be the man that single-handedly brought down the greatest foe the Empire has ever faced. They’d give me a medal – they might even make ME Emperor. That’s ridiculous. That’s not how that works. But, I’d have lots of women that would want to sleep with me, and maybe even a few that would want to marry me. I’d be famous! I could finally stick it to that bastard Phibbs over in—

The Doctor cleared his throat.

In the time Captain Hetz had been considering drawing his plasma pistol and firing at the shuttle, the shuttle had landed, and its sole occupant had exited. That sole occupant, the Doctor, now stood ten feet away from him and smiled politely in his direction. Even though Captain Hetz knew of the Doctor, he had no idea the man standing before him was that man. Besides, it was rumored that there were more than one Doctor and that they were some kind of hive mind, or collective intelligence. They were all the Doctor. This one was gaunt, with a long face and large eyes that seemed deep like an ocean. His grey-white hair stood up on his head haphazardly, and his smile was … disarming.

“Hello, General, please take me to your leader,” the Doctor said in greeting.

“No,” Captain Hetz replied.

“I beg your pardon, what?” the Doctor stammered.

“I mean, yes, I’ll take you, but I’m not a General, I’m a Captain,” Hetz explained.

The Doctor looked around the battlefield, completely devoid of soldier of any kind. “You had millions of soldiers on these plains an hour or so ago, and now there’s just you. Surely, you’re a general now.”

Hetz had not considered that. A general, Hetz thought to himself, I’ll have lots of women that will want to sleep with me, and maybe even a few would want to marry me. I’ll be famous! I can finally stick it to that bastard Phibbs over in—

“As I was landing, I began to think to myself that you might pull out that plasma pistol and fire it at the shuttle,” the Doctor said with a chuckle. He mockingly wiped a hand across his forehead. “No shields on it at all. Minor oversight. One well-placed blast and you might have turned the tide of the war. You’d have been the hero – the man that single-handedly brought down the greatest foe the Empire has ever faced. They’d give you a medal – they might even make YOU Emperor.”

“That’s not how that works,” General Hetz replied. He swiftly unholstered his plasma pistol and fired it at the shuttle. The shuttle responded by immediately exploding, knocking both he and the Doctor some ten feet away from where they were standing.

My god that was satisfying, Hetz thought from his position on his back. All this time I’ve been waiting to hear an explosion during this damned silent war. And I’ve done it! I’m a hero!

The Doctor, after making his way to his feet, casually walked over to the plasma pistol, which the General had lost in the blast. He removed his sonic screwdriver and pointed the device at the weapon. After a few seconds, the pistol began to hiss and smoke before finally bursting into flames.

“I detest guns,” the Doctor stated in frustration. Walking back over to General Hetz who was still on his back smiling to himself, he looked down at the soldier who grinned back up at him. “And I’m the Supreme Commander, you idiot.”

Grabbing Hetz roughly by the arms, the Doctor lifted him to his feet and brushed him off. Hetz, in frustration, batted the Doctor’s hands away. “What do you mean you’re the Supreme Commander?” Looking him up and down, “You?”

The Doctor turned his head slightly but kept his eyes on Hetz. “That’s right. Me. I’m the Doctor.”

Hetz gasped, and backed up a few steps, stumbling over a rock. “You’re him?”

The Doctor rolled his eyes and began walking to the palace. “Yes.”

Mouth open, mind blown, Hetz stammered, “You’re him!” Realizing the moment of his victory had come, Hetz looked around for a weapon with which to kill his mortal enemy.

Still walking in the direction of the palace, the Doctor called over his shoulder, “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

Seizing upon the very rock he had tripped over earlier, Hetz lifted it above his head and ran and the Doctor screaming in a war cry.

The Doctor stopped and hung his head as Hetz closed the distance. “I really wish you wouldn’t.”

With ten feet remaining, the Doctor pointed his sonic screwdriver over his shoulder and activated it. Immediately, the rock Hetz was holding vibrated itself to dust which then fell into the open eyes and mouth of Hetz who had looked agape at the rock he’d been holding.

As Hetz coughed and retched, trying to clear his eyes of the dust, the Doctor stopped and turned around. “Look, ” sighing, “Are you going to do this all the way to the palace?”

Hetz roared and charged the Doctor, intent on tackling him and throttling him to death.

With maximum exasperation, the Doctor shrugged and blew out a very tired sigh. Removing a second device from the depths of his coat pockets, he pointed it at Hetz and pulled its trigger.

Hetz disappeared in a flash of light.

“Every time,” the Doctor bellowed at the place where Hetz had been charging at him. “Every single time! Is it too much to ask for just some friendly company? Just once?”

Turning, the Doctor pocketed the device and continued his march to the palace grumbling to himself.

***

At the Planetary Imperial Palace, things were not going well at all.

“All sectors wiped out,” an actual General reported to the Emperor and his Inner Council. “The tanks and transports are still moving in some cases, but none are registering life signs. They’re just… empty.”

“Diabolical,” the Emperor whispered, leaning over the war table where all screens were an angry red. “It’s just as the other planetary governments in the cluster warned. He leaves nothing.”

Touching the Emperor gently to pull him from his trance-like stare at the visual confirmation of the complete and total annihilation of if his armies and navies, his High Councilor whispered, “Perhaps we should initiate the exit plan, your Magnificence.”

The Emperor didn’t respond. The old man, growing older with each second he watched his life’s works blink out of existence in a flash of light, put both of his wrinkled hands on the war table to steady himself, dropping his ceremonial warstaff in the process.

Seeing this moment of vulnerability as a show of weakness, the High Councilor quickly moved to limit the damage. “Clear the War Room!”

The dozen generals and staff members of the Council of War quickly shuffled out of the room in silence. They knew better than to dilly dally in a moment that could be used as an excuse to terminate them.

When the room had cleared and only the Emperor and High Councilor remained, the High Councilor gently guided his Emperor to a seat and fanned him with a mission briefing folder.

In fury, the Emperor slapped the folder away and pushed the Councilor back a few steps. “Lay off it! I’m not some female having an episode. I’m the Emperor, dammit. Just… give me a minute to think.”

The High Councilor silently bowed in acquiescence.

“The shuttle is prepped?” the Emperor asked. “Course laid in?”

The High Councilor nodded. “Indeed, sire. All is made ready.”

Raising an eyebrow, the Emperor glared at his High Councilor. “No one saw you do this? No one knows of our escape plan, do they?”

“I was very discreet, your Highness,” the High Councilor mewled.

“Well,” pushing himself up off the chair with a grunt. “Damn the rest of them to the Hell Dimension.” The Emperor grabbed his warstaff and patted the High Councilor on the shoulder. “I live to fight another day.”

“We…” the High Councilor stammered.

“What?” the Emperor stopped and turned to face the small man that had dared correct him.

“We live to fight another day, surely…” the High Councilor clarified, his shoulders drooping, and his body already collapsing in on itself slightly.

Leveling the warstaff at the High Councilor, the Emperor pressed a button set into the shaft. A bright red beam shot out from its tip, striking the High Councilor in the chest. After a second, it stopped, and the High Councilor looked in horror at the hole in his chest. Very quickly, the hole begin to grow until it expanded across his entire torso. Then, in a wisp of smoke and nothing else, the High Councilor vanished.

“Never correct me,” the Emperor spoke to thin air. Turning he exited the War Room and ran directly into a messenger.

“Your Majesty! We detected an enemy soldier on the battlefield heading in this direction!” the messenger barked.

The Emperor winced, and frowned at the man. “So disintegrate him!”

“We tried sir, but he had some kind of shielding,” the messenger looked down, not wanting to deliver the next bit. “We’ve lost track of him, sir. He may already be in the Palace.”

Grimacing with anger, the Emperor fired his warstaff at the messenger and pushed past him even as the messenger disintegrated into smoke. Ignoring the press of people around him asking questions, demanding orders, screaming, crying, the Emperor walked directly to his inner quarters and shut the door, locking it behind him. Throwing his warstaff to the ground, he quickly removed his ridiculous, voluminous ceremonial war robes, revealing a very small frail old man beneath. Pulling a long, thick cord next to a detailed tapestry depicting himself surrounded by a harem of young women, the Emperor revealed a metal hatch behind the tapestry. The hatch led to an escape pod already primed and preloaded with coordinates to a luxury planet for Emperor types like himself. The Emperor slipped into a more leisurely, comfortable robe and rubbed his hands excitedly as he opened the hatch.

Before he could step inside, he froze.

There, in the pilot’s seat, was the Doctor.

“Oh, hello!” the Doctor greeted him cheerfully. “I hope you don’t mind, but one of your men destroyed my shuttle craft, and after you and I have a little discussion, I’ll need to use your escape pod here to get me back to my own ship.”

With only a second’s hesitation, the Emperor turned and scrambled for his warstaff.

“No, no please,” the Doctor pleaded, standing up and exiting the escape pod. “Just for once, let’s not do this.”

The Emperor slipped on his voluminous ceremonial robes that he had haphazardly cast to the ground. With arms and legs flailing, the Emperor fell on his back, and cracked his skull on the stone floor.

The Doctor, wincing with his full body, took a moment to shake out the awful feeling that had suddenly crept up his spine at the violence. “That…” he exclaimed, ‘Is going to leave a nasty bump.” Quickly, moving to the Emperor’s side, he checked the man’s eyes and pulse, and then checked to make sure the Emperor hadn’t actually cracked his skull open. Finding only that the Emperor would likely have a horrible concussion, the Doctor took a deep breath, and dragged the body into the Escape Pod. Pulling the Emperor’s legs in roughly so the door would close, the Doctor turned around, and pulled up the navigational map.

Seeing the destination, the Doctor grinned widely and shook his head at the unconscious Emperor. “You naughty Emperor, you. We’ll take a slight detour first… and then we’ll take MY ship to your little getaway planet.” Locking in coordinates to lead the pod to the large battleship hovering over the planet, which happened to be where his TARDIS had been left, the Doctor pulled a lever and the escape pod shot out from the Palace just as the last few inhabitants blinked out of existence in a flash of light.

As the escape pod approached the massive warship above the planet, the larger vessel shimmered slightly and the pod passed through what appeared to be a transparent wall. Entering a wide, mostly empty hangar, the escape pod came to rest next to the only other occupant: the TARDIS. A small ramp extended down from the pod to the doors of the TARDIS and the Doctor promptly walked down the ramp and began fiddling with the lock.

Behind him, the Emperor was coming to, and seeing a chance to escape, he surreptitiously began to creep out of the escape pod, angling to slip off the side of the ramp and make a run for it.

As the Emperor carefully, slowly, slipped one frail leg over the edge of the ramp, the Doctor warned him, without looking around. “I wouldn’t do that.”

Pulling his sonic screwdriver from his pocket, he activated it. The warship disappeared, revealing the escape pod and the TARDIS were floating in mid-air.

The Emperor squeaked and scrambled back in the the pod.

The Doctor finished with the lock and opened the door to the TARDIS. Gesturing grandly to the Emperor, the Doctor said, “After you, your Majesty.”

The Emperor, terror stricken, hobbled across the ramp to the TARDIS and ran in, grasping his chest in relief.

Closing the door behind him, the Doctor made his way past the console to the doorway leading further into the TARDIS.

The Emperor had frozen, realizing he’d just stepped into a room much bigger than the box he’d seen outside.

“Allow me to show you to your quarters,” the Doctor said to him without much ceremony. Opening the door, he waited for the Emperor.

Awestruck, the Emperor stumbled a few times making his way to the door. Looking in it, the Emperor saw a very small, dimly lit room. The only thing in it was a sleeping bag, a wardrobe, a ratty rug, and about a thousand empty crisp packets.

“I’m not going in–“

The Doctor, impatient, grabbed the Emperor by the shoulders and pushed him into the room.

“This is ridiculous! I’m not stay in this room!” the Emperor bellowed. “I demand appropriate accommodations as specified by the War Charter of the Twelve Galaxy Alliance.”

“This is my room,” the Doctor explained. Walking over to the wardrobe, he opened it, revealing an infinitely long hallway full of doors. “You room is in here.”

Again, awestruck, the Emperor stumbled through the wardrobe, mouth open.

The Doctor began walking briskly, snapping his fingers. “Let’s go. I’ve got so many more planets to hit.”

The Emperor struggled to keep up, his frail legs not allowing him. After about a hundred yards, the Emperor stopped and put his hands on his knees, panting. “I need a minute,” he said weakly.

The Doctor, stopped and walked back to the Emperor. Folding his arms, he leaned against the wall. “Always the same with you despots, all the money and power, no exercise.”

The Emperor grunted and absently opened the door next to him. Behind the door was a massive landscape of sweeping green valleys and snowy crags. Hundreds of people were on the hillsides having picnics, flying kites, having a generally good time. The Emperor smiled and started to go in, but the Doctor’s hand on his chest stopped him.

“That’s not for you.” Quickly the Doctor closed the door and continued on. “You’re just down here. Keep up. Come on. Ikimashou!”

The Emperor sighed and followed. “You really are a terrible host.”

“I’m not a host for you,” The Doctor said, finally coming to a stop at a door. Opening it, he grabbed the Emperor and pushed him to the doorway where two pairs of hands grabbed him roughly. The two humanoid soldier types that grabbed him, recruits from one of the first planets the Doctor had liberated, began to lead him down another long hallway, this one dark grey, lined with cells filled with thousands of other Emperors, Godkings, and Supreme Chief types.

“I’m your warden,” the Doctor called after him, and shut the door. He paused a moment, looking at the outline of the door he’d just shut, realizing, as he did every time he had shut the door recently, that some might view this prison unfavorably. Again, he reminded himself that it was necessary given the multitudes he was saving and managing in his TARDIS alone. You wouldn’t put a rabid dog in with children, he thought.

Turning back the way they’d come, the Doctor stopped at a door they’d passed and opened it. Inside, an exact replica of the plains he’d just left sprawled out before him. Millions of people, many of them soldiers that had just vanished from the surface of the planet below stood staring at the man who’d just appeared from nowhere.

Captain Hetz, demoted now that all his superiors were revealed to have only been moved, not vaporized, walked briskly up to the Doctor. “You! You didn’t kill any of them!”

“That’s right,” the Doctor said, his face unreadable. “Why would I?”

Hetz shrugged. “It’s what the Doctors do?”

“It’s not what I do, and I’m the only Doctor here.” Pushing him politely aside, the Doctor walked up to a raised area so that everyone could see him. Taking his sonic screwdriver out of his pocket and using it as a microphone, he addressed the multitude:

“Dear peoples of…” putting his hand over the screwdriver, he leaned over to Hetz who had followed him. “What planet was this?”

Hetz stammered, “Hiram-Venta III?”

“Was that a question?” the Doctor said impatiently. “Do you not know your own planet?”

“Hiram-Venta III,” another soldier with a nametag that identified him as Phibbs said.

“Thank you,” the Doctor answered, turning back to the crowd. “Dear peoples of Hiram-Venta III, I am the Doctor. The real article. Not the collective temporal army you’ve seen blitzkrieging across the Universe. I didn’t come here to destroy your planet, or take your resources, I came here to save you from that. Until such time as the universe is safe again, I’ve created this little pocket recreation of your planet for you to stay in indefinitely. You’ll find it similar in every detail, but downsized to fit just the populace. I have to ask you to please behave until I can get you back to your planet. I’ve also deposed your wicked Emperor, and in case some of you hold some loyalty to him, I’d be happy to move you to his accommodations in the despot cell block of the prison a few doors down. You have all the resources you need to survive here, and I’ll check back periodically. Until that time, I’ve appointed… uh… ” The Doctor looked around him, his eyes falling on Phibbs and his rank designation on his uniform. “Captain Phibbs to act as temporary director in charge of this sanctuary. Good day.”

With that, the Doctor stepped down and grabbed Phibbs by the arm and walked with him. Hetz fumed silently and followed.

“If you need anything, just say ‘I want to speak to the Doctor’ and I’ll get to you as soon as I can. Understood?” the Doctor said.

Phibbs saluted and replied, “Affirmative, sir.”

“Good.” Using his sonic to open the door back out to the hallway, the Doctor added to Phibbs, “Don’t try to find this doorway after I’ve gone, it’s hidden.”

Waving goodbye, the Doctor exited. As he leaned his back against the door, resting a moment, he thought he heard someone yell “Bastard Phibbs!” which was followed by what could only be the sound of a fist colliding with a face.

“Not my problem,” The Doctor said, pushing himself off the door and heading back to the TARDIS control room.

Reaching the small room holding the wardrobe, he stopped and sighed, leaning over and putting his hands on his knees. The vastness of the TARDIS interior still got to him. Infinite space filled with trillions of souls, and still he felt very tiny and alone. He glanced over to the sleeping bag, and something pulled at him from that corner. He’d spent weeks there not moving before he’d finally pulled himself up into action. He wanted to just slide back into that avoidance and shut his eyes.

But something stronger wouldn’t let him, and he quickly exited. “I should eject that room,” he said to himself.

After a moment, he said to himself, “No, I shouldn’t.”

Snapping back to the task at hand, he strode confidently over to the TARDIS console. His next destination was already loaded on one of the screens where a planet and its moons were displayed.

“Grentha VI, and moons. So this is the pleasure planet all the despots have been fleeing to,” the Doctor said to himself, pulling the lever that started the TARDIS to dematerialize. “Prepare to be annihilated.”

(to be continued)