They had asked him to tell the whole truth, from the very beginning so that's what he did. Well, he skipped a few thousand years, and focused on the relevant stuff to his situation, but they wouldn't know that, would they?
"I'm not meant to be here. My friends are out there, somewhere, lost in a war that is not their own. I'm your prisoner, and every day you torture me to try and get secrets I know nothing of. I see the Death out of my cell window, and I can do nothing to stop any of it. I've never felt so helpless in my life - I have no plan, no hope, except for my friends - and for all I know, they could be dead.
My name is the Doctor. And this is how I came to Hell."
It all started in the TARDIS. Funny, that's where they all start, I should really be used to it by now, but anyway, I digress.
I had recently discovered that I was being stalked by a being – I didn't want to make any other assumptions about them – called Quintrix. Now call me old fashioned, but being stalked by some being that could for all I know be a violent murderer type just does not appeal to me. And funnily enough, it's happened a few times recently, what with Bad Wolf, and Torchwood and Saxon – and again, I digress. I had decided, after thirty seconds thought, to go after Quintrix, and stop them. Whoever they were.
So, for three days, we – me Jack and Eilidh – waited for me to come up with a plan.
What I eventually came up with was a lovely gem of an idea. Quintrix had been stalking us for ages. No really, absolutely ages, and I remembered the first time I had noticed it.
"The Quintrix Stratagem!" I said to my friends.
"The what?" Jack had asked.
"Earth, 1975," I said. "The Zagrites. They had acquired a Stratagem off of someone – the Quintrix stratagem. That's where we start looking."
"Where?" asked Eilidh.
"Zagroatia," I beamed. "Home world of the Zagrites. We check their computer archives, and find out whether they know who or what Quintrix is."
"And if they don't?" Eilidh asked.
"We go to the next place on my list," I replied.
They nodded, and I was satisfied that they understood. So I walked up to the console, flicked a switch, pulled a lever, and we were off. The TARDIS groaned, and the time rotor rose and fell.
In no time, we had materialised. It didn't fell like no time of course, but in real terms it was no time at all. Interesting, but yet again beside the point, and that must really irritate you. Sorry.
So, we land. Jack get's his coat on, I get mine, Eilidh gets her trackies on – I still can't believe she found a pair of trackies in the TARDIS wardrobe, unless she nicked a pair of Rose's… anyway.
"Ready?" I asked. They nodded.
"Should we check the scanner?" Jack asked.
"Too late," I muttered, as I opened the door. In retrospect, that was my big mistake.
We stepped out, and found ourselves in a trench. A deserty, littered with rubble and bits of corpses sort of trench. Now, for me and Jack, we'd seen this sort of thing before, we could deal with it, but Eilidh… she was young, relatively naïve. She had never before seen this sort of thing. I won't say what happened for the sake of her dignity, but it was understandable. Poor girl.
"Not Zagroatia then?" asked Jack, quietly.
"Unless it's a civil war," I replied, "but I don't think so. The sand there is sort of… bluey."
"If it isn't Zagrotia then can we please just go?" Eilidh asked from behind us. "This place is making me sick."
"No," I replied. "We were brought here for a reason, and I want t know it. Jack, get your gun."
He nodded, and drew out his Webley. I started scanning the area for temporal traces (apart from ours) and the trail led onwards about half a kilometre – that's a klick to you – from where we'd landed.
"Come on," I said. "This way."
"So," one of his captors interrupted. "Your vessel is about half a klick away from where you were found?"
The Doctor sighed at the man.
"No," he said. "Now if you could kindly listen? We never got that far."
We had only walked about fifteen or sixteen metre's, roughly, when we came upon the first thing we ever saw of your war.
There was tracer fire above us, practically all the time, zooming above us, red and blue lasers, like a bizarre and deadly light show. We turned a corner in the very winding trenches, when we came to a fork in the trench. About a dozen men in blue, and the same number in red, were firing at each other, from behind crates and barrels and beams and corpses... we couldn't tell much difference apart from the colours of their uniforms. As we watched, one of the men in red charged forward, like a madman, shooting at least five of the blue ones down before he was caught in the shoulder and sent crashing to the ground.
We stayed in cover as the blue men fell back, slowly and measuredly, tactical withdrawal, pulling back, while the red men pushed forward. Eventually, they were gone, leaving only a few red men to hold the position there. It was the strangest thing.
That's when they noticed us.
"Oi!" one of them yelled. "Who are you?"
I gave my trademark grin, took out the psychic paper, and waved it about.
"I'm Colonel Doctor," I said, smiling. "I'm from command, and these are my adjutants Lieutenant Brown and Captain Harkness. We're here to check the situation."
The trooper stared at the paper for a moment, then motioned to his men, before aiming his gun at us. I gave him a quizzical look.
"Didn't you read the paper?" I asked. "We're from command!"
"That papers blank," he said. "You're under arrest, 'Colonel Doctor'."
We raised our arms.
"Bloody typical," Eilidh said.
"And that's how I got here," the Doctor said. "I was separated from my friends, and put here, to await your pleasure."
The man who'd been interrogating him smiled, then started sniggering. The guard behind him did the same, and pretty soon they were both laughing.
"What?" the Doctor asked.
"That's pretty funny," the man said. "You should be a comedian, not a spy."
"I'm not a spy," the Doctor said. "That was all the truth."
The men stopped laughing.
"Nice try," the leader said, "but we will get the secrets of the Enemy out of you Doctor. If that's even your real name."
"It's not," the Doctor said, "but that's not really an important issue."
"Oh it is," the man said. "By the time we're through, I intend to have you telling me everything Doctor. Your true name, your species, what your favourite colour is, and all the secrets you know about the Enemy. All of them."
He turned on his heel and walked out, the guard following him. The Doctor stared after them and sighed. This was not good, to say the least. He looked up at the ceiling, and wondered if Eilidh and Jack, who'd been separated from him when they'd been captured, were faring any better than him…