The Time of Change

I Am Not Afraid

It's very dark. Goodness, it's dark. I don't think I've been in a place this dark for a long while. Where is everyone? The light around me evaporates within milliseconds, and I hope Handles is paying attention in the TARDIS. Who knows when I'll need to be beamed back out again? Who knows what's in here?

Who knows why all of them are even here now, if they're just as confused as I am?

My grip tightens around the dalek eyestalk I hold, my palm growing a bit sweaty. Am I nervous? Possibly. Statistically it wouldn't be all that surprising. Heightened heartbeats, blood pumping -- oh, yes, I can hardly keep my thoughts straight because of that infernal sound in my ears, the roaring of my blood. I should research why it's so loud, but only when one's afraid. But, I am not afraid. Am I? I don't get afraid often. And there's nothing here to be afraid of, nothing but darkness and silence.

Those are often the most terrifying things, though.

"I bring proof of courage and comradeship!" I call out, waving the eyestalk around a bit. Nothing moves, nothing makes a sound. "What is this ship and why are you here?" I chance to ask. My voice is confident, loud, as it typically is. I've always been rather good at that, being loud. Haven't I? Most likely. Then again, maybe I haven't been. Maybe I only get loud when I'm afraid. But I'm not afraid.

Yes, you are.

"Identify yourselves by species and planet of origin." The metal eyestalk pops a little, and I glance at it. The sound was deafening in this confined space. For half a moment I take in my surroundings for the first time, now that my eyes have adjusted. Slick sheer metal floor. There's a step about three meters away from where I stand. I seem to be in the exact middle of a perfectly circular chamber, and all around me is a small wall rising up about half a meter. A gathering hall maybe? Or a meeting area? My mind runs through all the possibilities of the type of ship I could be on, and whose it is. There's hundreds of thousands surrounding my TARDIS at this time, so I could be in the presence of anything, anyone. I've already encountered many of them by accident and gotten nowhere. Hopefully this won't go as badly. Then again, it most likely will. There aren't many species that particularly welcome my presence.

"Exterminate!"

I jump backward, dropping the eyestalk, as a blindingly green beam of light comes startlingly close to my hair. I suck in a deep breath and stare at where it came from. Suddenly, the lights come on, and I see them. All of them. Hundreds. No, more than that. I can't count. One of my hearts stop -- I think it's the right one, but it may be the left, I can never tell. I stoop and sweep the eye into my hand again, and now stand deathly still. Again the silence is more powerful than a scream. I'm not afraid. I want nothing more than to destroy all of them, to explode this ship into smithereens, into shrapnel. I want to hurt them all for what they did to me, and for what they did to her.

Calm yourself.

No.

"Handles?" I say weakly.

Now they all start chanting. The same word, over and over, in the same voice. It makes my head hurt. "Exterminate, exterminate, exterminate, exterminate, exterminate, exterminate!" All at once, every single angry little trashbin begins firing at me, beams flying everywhere. Luckily at this distance, their aim is absolute rubbish. "Handles?" I shout over the ruckus. "Argh. Handles?"

The bright blue transportation beam surrounds me and the last thing I hear is the white-hot whizzing of a death ray seventeen thousand times more powerful and capable of damage than anything radioactive.

I throw the dalek's eyebeam across the TARDIS, and it hits the wall with a clank. It rolls back over to me, stopping at my feet. I glare at Handles for a moment, and now run a hand over my face. I try to avoid my chin. I don't really like feeling how large it is. "Every ship I go on, they just shoot at me," I breathe, shaking my head dejectedly. I hear Handles shift his eye sockets a little, probably to stare at me blankly, as usual, and I look at him. Just a head, this thing. A Cyberman's head. He's attached to the console presently. Why I've kept him so long, I don't know. But he's helpful. And good companionship for when I'm alone. Which is often, nowadays.