A 3 part Time War prelude following the Protector and friends during the darkest era in Gallifreyan history.
The Protector is a Doctor Who spinoff character I created and have used in other places since 2013. These stories do not feature the Doctor...
On the outskirts of Gallifrey's last remaining city was a band of Dalek resistance fighters. Among them was a unkept man in a battle torn suit who happened to be finishing his ration. Where he was once the classical type, the war would break him in ways he never imagined. Forced him to confront parts of himself he never knew were there. The desperation of his burning world caused him to forge a new persona from the ashes of the old.
Thought he was very much on the military's bad side after going AWOL on Lord President Rassilon, he couldn't very well give up on the war effort, no matter how much every iota of his being was screaming otherwise. At times he thought he should make like the Doctor and run. Yet, he kept fighting.
In times as grim as these, that's what the Oath of the Protector meant. To forego the rules in order to protect by any means necessary.
A resistance fighter by the name of Darvol checked and double checked his equipment, not quite believing the readings the screen was showing him. "No, that's...that can't be right."
"Aye, what is it, Darvol? I told you not to download those little videos onto that thing...kills the battery." The Protector replied.
"No, sir. Have a look for yourself." Darvol showed the screen to the Protector, which caused him to forget all about the rations he was chowing down on.
"At this point, you'd think the military is blind and deaf. How'd numbers like these slip through?" The Protector demanded to know.
"Sir, forgive me, but..." Darvol struggled.
"Out with it, man!" The Protector ordered.
Darvol obliged. "You said we're the last line of defense...then that means..."
"Aye, 'fraid so." The Protector placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "Gallifrey falls. Right then..." He hopped up onto a supply crate and looked at his squadron of volunteer militiamen. "Listen up, men! This is the darkest day in our history! Time Lord civilization as we know it is dead! Our only hope now is to take as many of those tanks to hell with us as possible. Maybe then, in time, a new Gallifrey will rise. But until then, we have work to do!"
He pointed back to the small rural community in the distance. "Guard the civilians with your lives! I'm not going to lie to you. This is it, men! There is no victory against these numbers. But we can delay them long enough for the survivors to stowaway in a capsule!" He grabbed a plasma rifle and cocked it. "For Gallifrey!"
"FOR GALLIFREY!" The fighters repeated as they geared up and prepared themselves for the end.
Suddenly, it came. The Dalek armada approached from the skies, picking off survivors in the city with pristine accuracy. The turbolasers of the Dalek starfleet struck the area like thunder. The Protector ran for cover and found it behind a heap of debris. The dreaded word reverbed as the sinister tanks approached. "EX-TER-MI-NATE!"
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