The interior of the TARDIS was different from when I had last been a passenger. While still bigger on the inside, it felt more compact, as the walls were closer to the console, and adorned with white roundels of some sort. It felt much more stark and oppressive here than in the grungy coral chamber I remembered, echoing it's distant and detached owner.
"Coordinates set for Vakar. That's the homeworld of the Vakarians. Just in case you couldn't figure it out." called the "Doctor", who was hunched over the controls. It was getting difficult to refer to him like this.
"Thanks, but I managed to put two and two together. So, for the sake of convenience, what do I call you if not 'Doctor'?"
He took a breath with which to give me some withering retort, before biting his tongue, as if he realized that he didn't really have a suitable answer. He sighed, before speaking in a mournful whisper.
"Call me whatever you want, just don't call me that. I don't know, refer to me as Warrior, Renegade, John Smith.... I don't care. But I'm not the Doctor."
"Why not? What have you done to warrant the loss of your title?"
"You wouldn't understand." His voice was sharp and brisk again, shutting down my questioning.
"Try me. I know about the Time War. I've seen how the guilt eats away at your future self, yet he saw fit to forgive himself and be the Doctor again. What have you done that's so unforgivable?!"
The Warrior slammed his palms down on the TARDIS console, causing her to chime in distress. He turned to face me, fury in his eyes, as he roared.
"You really want to know?! I broke my promise. I chose to fight. My very reason for existing is to battle in this War. Oh, my former self saw to that when regenerated into a Warrior. Someone born to do what must be done. Someone to push the boundaries of decency and make the choices nobody else dares consider. To stand and fight were the Doctor would turn and flee. A Doctor is sworn to protect the sanctity of life, I'm sworn to destroy it."
I felt the pain he felt, indeed I recognized it in myself, though I felt he was still hiding behind self deprecation and not being entirely honest.
"Is that it?" I asked him, incredulously. "You're torturing yourself for choosing to defend the Universe from the Daleks? Sounds like the Doctor to me."
"Of course you don't understand. I could hardly expect a human like yourself to comprehend. The things I've seen, that I've done, all in the name of supposed peace and sanity, would horrify you to your core." He was quieter now, but had lost none of his fire.
"I understand more than you credit me for."
"What could you possibly know about war, young man?"
"Don't forget, I've fought in a war of my own against the Vakarians. Plus, humanity has quite the history of violence."
He scoffed at me. "Call that skirmish a war? Humans, always think they know it all, that's your problem." I ignored his veiled insult. He was angry now, but I saw a chance to break his hardened exterior at last.
"War breeds cruelty. Chaos. Spite. Retaliation and vengeance dominate over careful consideration and compassion. It's the nature of wartime." I urged.
"So, you do know something then. But you're still naive. Just because war is hell, it doesn't excuse the actions of warriors, the war crimes, the senseless and pointless slaughter of the innocent."
"That's why the battlefield needs warriors like you. People whose compassion guides their actions. Sure, you've killed. I've killed. But unlike the sociopath or the vindictive tyrant, our guilt keeps us in check. Keeps us grounded, because we feel the consequences of our actions."
"I don't need to hear you spouting naive and trite philosophy at me, boy."
"Doctor, please just listen."
"DON'T CALL ME"
"Doctor!" I replied, firmly. He scowled, but was above engaging in a petty shouting match, so he ignored my taunt. "There's a song in my country, the National Anthem. Loosely translated, it's called The Soldier's Song. One line in particular says: No more our ancient sire land
Shall shelter the despot or the slave."
"I hadn't realized we'd entered poetry corner. "
"My point is, sometimes war is necessary. There are valid, noble reasons to become a warrior, when tyranny and injustice reach such proportions that no amount of peaceful discussion or alternative methods can work. Some enemies are too narrow minded to see what lies before them. War is unpleasant, and frequently a result of political posturing, arrogance or fear, but there are some causes worth fighting for."
"Hmm." He grunted, contemplating. "It doesn't matter how righteous your cause, how noble your intentions might be. In the depths of battle, when you're facing death, under the greatest pressure, you'll do anything to survive. Anything to achieve victory. Anything, to bring an end to the fighting. In that moment, morality is meaningless, causes are irrelevant. A Warrior acts in such moments, where a Doctor would hesitate."
"You can't truly believe that..." I whispered. This was the difference between this man and the Doctor, I realized.
"I do. That is my burden, my cross to bear. I make the impossible choices, those that nobody should or could make. That is why I'm no longer a Doctor. It takes a sacrifice to save the Universe, you know." He eyes were focused on the distance, as if he were no longer talking to me, lost in his own musing. "The Daleks, the Time Lords, both threaten the fabric of reality, countless planets hang in the balance, collateral damage in this forsaken war. The things I'm guilty of, I do to protect those legion worlds used as pawns. I fight for peace, sanity, but to do so I must take dire actions."
We both stood in muted contemplation for some time. Neither of us felt like we'd convinced the other of anything, we just had to agree to disagree. For the first time since I'd met the Doctor though, I had finally seen the person who would be willing to destroy both the Daleks and his own people. The Warrior was the only person I've met who seemed capable of choosing double genocide to save the Universe. Eventually, he spoke again in a jovial voice utterly disconnected from them previous argument.
"We've arrived, and about time too. The old girl had a bit of a tricky landing. Something on Vakar is upsetting her systems. Let's pop out and say hello, shall we?"
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