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Doctor Who-Slave Across Time

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Slave Across Time


The Doctor slumped against the console of the TARDIS, feeling the tears pricking her eyes. She'd lost Yaz. It seemed too much like a nightmare. Ryan and Graham had been the first ones. She'd tried her best to convince them not to come, but they insisted. The Daleks had started to invade Earth again, and the two of them insisted that they had to defend their home. Grace would have been proud of how well those two fought. Ryan had been shot in the leg by one of the trigger-happy mini tanks, and Graham had grabbed a blaster to defend his grandson. The last the Doctor had seen of them, as Yaz pulled her back to the TARDIS, were the two of them firing at any and all Daleks they could. It wasn't until the TARDIS had taken off, that Yaz and the Doctor shed tears for the two men. After that, the two women continued traveling in the TARDIS, but things clearly had changed. They both knew this. The ship felt less...homely.

It was on the planet of Mod-Zeta 5 where the Doctor lost Yaz. They'd been approached by a resistance movement to help them to topple their dictatorial government, and of course, Yaz and the Doctor were more than happy to assist. But, what they weren't expecting was that the government was prepared to move on the resistance. In a flash of light, a firefight ensued, as the government got the drop on them. The resistance told the Doctor to run. They couldn't let the government get their hands on the TARDIS. The Time-Lord agreed, but Yaz said she'd stay behind to help the resistance as well. In the end, the Doctor had no choice, running back to the blue box, and materializing away. Now, she was alone. All alone again. It was just like all her previous lives. Susan, Sarah Jane, Rose, Jack, Mickey, Martha, Donna, River, Amy, Rory, Clara, Missy, Bill, and so many others. She'd lost them all.


“Looks like it's just you and me again, old girl,” she said to the console, giving it a loving pat. Flipping a few switches and turning a few knobs, she scrolled through the different destinations. “No. No. Can't go back there. They want me dead there. I turned into a cat there, not fun,” she said, her finger gliding across the screen. One name came up that she'd never seen before, which was a good thing. “Hmm. Quadrant 85. The planet of Bodmian Demonda Saldemeen Matiamon. Well, that's quite a mouthful. But, that may be the perfect place to land while I figure out what to do,” she said.


“Vweem, vweem,” the TARDIS hummed.


“No, old friend. London, Earth itself is too painful to go to right now. I just..need some time alone. This planet seems the perfect planet to wait for a while on,” she said, confirming the coordinates for the Quadrant 85 planet. Flipping another switch, the time circuits turned on and the TARDIS was off once again.




The first thing the Doctor noticed when stepping out of the TARDIS and onto the planet was the scenery. Miraculously, it seemed to almost be the same as Earth. It was so similar in fact, that she had to do a double take to make sure the TARDIS hadn't actually brought her to Cardiff instead. But, nope. She was on the Quadrant 85 planet, as Earth didn't have four suns, two on each side. But, other than that, it almost seemed like an exact copy of Earth. Something was off. The Doctor could feel it. Pulling out her screwdriver, she scanned the atmosphere of the planet. She had to get to the bottom of this. Once the scan completed, she checked the results from the screwdriver and was shocked by what she saw. But, before she could do anything, a bag was thrown over her head, and she was dragged away, dropping her sonic screwdriver. The Doctor tried to struggle out of the grip of her abductors, but it did no good. Injected with a syringe, the Doctor slowly passed out, and the abductors easily dragged her the rest of the way. The Doctor had been kidnapped on this planet!




Awakening a few hours later, the Doctor found herself chained to a wall in a large stone room. She took in her surroundings, at the windowless grey walls, to the oddly intricate and beautiful bed, to the small vase in one of the corners. The door was made of wood, with a metal ring handle. If the Doctor hadn't seen what the outside looked like, she would have thought she'd been taken to medieval Europe.


“Ugh. What did they inject me with?” she asked herself, shaking herself awake. With a creak, the door opened, and a man stepped into the room. His face screamed 'Dictator' to the Doctor. Slicked back black hair that seemed as if he was trying to be Dracula, an angular face with sharp, defined features, grey eyes that burned, and a large, parrot-like nose. His mouth was pulled into a thin line that bore an unamused expression. He wore an immaculate, maroon uniform that seemed ceremonial in make. His boots were shined to perfection, and they clicked on the stone floor of the Doctor's cell.


“The much debated Doctor. You can't imagine how much effort it has taken to get to you,” the man said, his voice a sharp, biting tone. The Doctor smirked, looking at the manacles that kept her secured to the wall.


“Are these really necessary? I dropped my screwdriver outside, I'm hardly a threat to you without it,” she said. The man sneered.


“I assure you, Doctor, that you are QUITE the threat even without your little tool. What do you think of your accommodations?” he asked, gesturing around the room.


“Great, if you're going for a medieval dungeon vibe. I mean, you couldn't have been a little more subtle, mate?” she asked, pinching her fingers in emphasis.


“Ah yes, I'd been told you value yourself as a comedian, Doctor. Well, how is this for comedy? We have been keeping tabs on you for many, many years, Doctor. You've been valued as quite the prize. Time-Lord physiology and the nature of regeneration is known to my planet, and so, we've spent some time developing a..serum of sorts. A serum that will keep you from regenerating past the form you are now. Now, you needn't worry. It also will keep you from dying, but your regeneration will be blocked with this serum. It is not permanent as of yet, but it will serve it's purpose,” the man said. The Doctor's eyes widened, and her two hearts beat faster. “Of course, we couldn't make ourselves known to you while you were in your previous forms. Your current form, however, is more than a suitable candidate.”


“What do you mean 'suitable'?” the Doctor asked, even though the growing dread inside of her began to make it clear. The man grinned lecherously.


“You will be trained, Doctor. Molded into the most obedient plaything that has ever walked the cosmos. Your TARDIS shall be sent to the junkyard, and you shall NEVER leave this planet,” he said. The Doctor wrenched against the chains that were holding her, but to no avail, as the man laughed. “Struggle all you wish, Doctor. Some of the men enjoy that. Enjoy your last night as yourself. For tomorrow, your training begins,” he said, turning to leave. The Doctor screamed protests after him, even when the door closed. Her two hearts were threatening to burst out of her chest. Wriggling her body as much as she could to try to find ANY give with the manacles, she groaned when none was found. No. This was not how this ended. They wanted her to break so easily? Well, they had another thing coming. She was the Doctor. She didn't break like a twig. When the morning came, her captors would find it difficult to complete their plan.




Slowly opening her eyes, the Doctor felt relieved that she was still inside of her cell. But, that relief shattered when the door opened and the man from before entered, flanked by two more men. The two other men carried high-caliber guns, but the first man hand in his hand only a small syringe, with a sinister green liquid that made the hair on the back of the Doctor's neck rise.


“Good morning, Doctor. Are you ready for your training to begin?”


“You know, when you ask me that question while holding up that syringe, it leads me to believe I have no choice in the matter,” the Doctor said. The Dictator chuckled, tapping the needle.


“This is a special concoction, Doctor. Along with blocking your regeneration cycle, it will also make you..more compliant. Think of it as, your body will be active but your brain will not be making the decisions,” he said. The Doctor glared.


“You're not going to get away with this. I have friends, you know! They'll find me!” she barked.


“Oh, we are well aware of your friends, Doctor, and should they come to the planet, we will be ready for them,” he said, approaching the Doctor and sticking the needle in her neck. The Doctor hissed, as her fists clenched, before her entire body relaxed, and she slumped against the wall again.


“Doctor, can you hear me?” the Dictator asked, lifting the Doctor's face up by her chin. The Doctor said nothing at first, before the Dictator slapped her across the face. But, instead of reacting in pain, the Doctor moaned.


“Mmm. More, Sir. Please,” she begged. The Dictator grinned, letting go of her face.


“She is ready. Prepare her and bring her to the arena,” he said, walking out of the Doctor's cell. The two men nodded, finally un-cuffing the Doctor's hands and standing her up. As the door closed, the two men began to remove her coat and undo her trousers. The Doctor's training was about to begin.




“Yaz, please. You must stop squirming!” Kaylie, the medic of the Resistance on Mod-Zeta 5 said. Yaz rolled her eyes, as she winced when Kaylie pulled the gauze on her leg taut. She's lucky that that wound was all she'd suffered. The other's hadn't been so lucky. Dale and Lynea had taken a shot to the head and heart respectively, Ana got shot in the leg initially, and before she could limp away, an energy sword was driven through her head and out her eye. It was horrific. But, Yaz was determined. She fought like a bat out of hell, and managed to save many members of the Resistance. But, the Doctor was gone, and what worried the police woman was that she hadn't come back yet.


“Kaylie, trust me. The Doctor wouldn't be gone THIS LONG if something hadn't gone wrong. We need to find her,” Yaz said.


“You're right, Yaz. We do,” a voice said. Kaylie pulled her blaster on the voice, as Yaz did the same.


“Who are you?” she asked through grit teeth. She wasn't in the mood for any shenanigans. The owner of the voice stepped into the light, and they were..oddly dressed under their cloak. They looked like they were wearing a 60's waitress uniform, but in blue. Very much like the TARDIS. Her brown hair came down in waves, and she was clutching one of the government's energy swords. Yet, Yaz could tell this woman wasn't part of the government. She was..something else.


“The Doctor's in danger, Yaz. She needs us,” the woman said. Yaz glared, powering up her blaster.


“How do you know she's in danger?” she growled.


“Because I'm like her. I'm a Time-Traveler,” the woman replied.


“You never answered her question. Who are you?” Kaylie asked. The woman sighed, finally dropping the robe and confirming that, yes, they were wearing a 60's waitress outfit. On an alien planet.


“My name is Clara Oswald. Good to finally meet you,” she said with a smile. Yaz's eyebrows raised, as she slowly lowered the blaster.