THE APOCRYPHA

Story Two:

GRADUATION DAY

By Paul Whittaker

We dwell at the end of the continuum where no enemies but time and entropy might find us. Pitiful, I think.

Across the gulf of void, a gilded reflection of our once mighty civilization is again on the rise. While we cower and rot, they face the most irredeemable of evils and build bridges where once there were none. Conflict is unavoidable, yet they are all the better for standing against those who would only destroy, and the relics of the war that broke us remain an ever present threat.

Reprisal was only a matter of time as my person of interest, one Clara Oswald, is about to discover. The children of Gallifrey no longer stand alone however, and as I record the second entry in the chronicle of the young Time Lady's life, Clara will also find that she too is not alone in the trial she must face...

Part One: Legacy

APPIAN, 28th CENTURY: LAST DAY OF THE WAR OF SUCCESSION

Commander Sigma/7a silently glided toward the light with an aura of steady relentlessness. The sound of battle, filtered by precision audio receptors, was sweet music–driving Sigma ever on towards ultimate, crushing victory. Peering out at the hideously cold and evil universe from behind a plasma-formed fisheye lens, it knew nothing terrible could get at it, safely hidden away within its Polycarbide home–and any fear that did arise was swiftly edited out by the self-same system of advanced machinery.

Either side of the dusty passage was littered with the corpses of vicious monsters that would like nothing better than to harm Sigma and the rest of its kin. Indeed, Sigma only regarded such horror with a slowly simmering sort of rage, brought on by the fact that it hadn't been the one to remove them from its existence.

As the light grew, so did the clarity of the monotone voices ahead, and so the distance to Sigma's goal lessened. With almost single intent, it kept that obsidian, glyph-scrawled monolith at the centre of focus, but never, once, did it forget about the terrible beings that wished to steal it.

'Quantum artifact secure...' one of the monsters reported on several wavelengths without an ounce of imagination. 'Secure perimeter and prepare for transmat to primary tomb ship...'

Sigma and it's cohorts picked up speed and gave a burst of interference as one of the tall metallic humanoids turned toward them with hollow expression.

'EXTERMINATE!' Sigma sang, its gun spitting a bright blue beam in response to the command and vanquishing the threat.

'EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!' it laughed from within its safe place as it burst into the full light of day, making the universe a little safer with every spent round.

Within moments, the Cyber strike force was so much scrap and offal, and victory belonged to the Daleks. Now Sigma and its kin could stand as kings of their own destiny atop the great ziggurat, surrounded by war torn plains of death and carnage filled skies.

'THE MONARCH IS NOW OURS!' Sigma declared as Zeta/1b and Gamma/22s took up defensive positions on either side of the Time Lord relic. 'VICTORY FOR THE EMPIRE! VICTORY! VICTO–'

'You will turn and face me, sir!' a hoarse –if, well spoken–voice demanded, and the squat-built, dome-helmeted humanoid blew a hole clean through the Dalek commander with a single shot from his Stenk 11 pistol as it complied.

Zeta/1b was instantly on the offensive, but screamed like twisting metal as a second Sontaran appeared–ghost-like–alongside, chainblade spewing dust and vital slimes.

Gamma/22s attempted to back up and ascertain the most viable target, but was swiftly blown to gooey pieces by a third assailant emerging from the shadowy passage with smoking laser rifle.

'Lieutenant Zars, place the beacon,' Commander Nix ordered, gesturing to the artifact with his pistol.

Zars nodded and sheathed his growling sword as more troops appeared around them in pulses of light.

'Sergeant Vex,' Nix further commanded, 'secure the entrance.'

The third original assailant gestured for some of the other soldiers to join him and took up position guarding the passage.

'Is the beacon set?'

'It is, sir,' Zars confirmed as he stood upright.

'This is commander Nix,' the heavily armoured trooper rasped into his comm device. 'Monarch is secure and ready for transport to Sontar.'

'Transportation order confirmed,' the flagship many miles above replied with a fizz of static. 'Commencing transportation.'

Then, nothing. Commander Nix turned to look at the artifact, then glared up at the fiery sky.

'Well?' he demanded.

'Commander,' the flagship replied in earnest, 'new ships have arrived and are blocking our transport signal. We can't-'

Nix watched, completely powerless, as the artifact slipped from his grasp and disappeared with a familiar, mayfly flash.

'This is the Terra-Draconian Empire,' a domineering voice suddenly hailed from every possible speaker on every possible piece of technology.

Almost as a continuation of the statement, a column of brilliant radiance cracked the sky and punched into the earth. It was all Nix could do to stay upright as he shielded his eyes from the blast that consumed the southern planes, eradicating half of every faction's army in one fatal swipe–his own included.

'By order of the Time Lord Council of Gallifrey and the absolute resolution of the Final Conclusion, all hostile forces are to surrender immediately or face the consequences,' the voice added, almost smugly.

Curse the Humans! Curse the Draconians! Curse their Chula allies and their Time Lord backers!

'Men! Use your vortex manipulators!' Nix ordered–a big risk considering–and within moments they were on the bridge of the flagship, a burning field of a hundred wrecks between them and the self-righteous interlopers.

'Helmsman Vask,' Nix growled as he removed his helmet to reveal a face scarred by many a glorious pursuit, 'set temporal coordinates!'

'Where to commander?' the voice that had been at the end of the comm enquired.

Nix tightened his fist. 'The beginning...'

NEPTUNE, 1989

Aylish's eyes flickered open and a smile spread across her lips as she remembered where she was.

Indeed, it was quite unlike our star-bound lass to be so enthusiastic in the morning, yet she leapt out from beneath the sanctuary of her sheets and took in the clinically clean expanse of her bedchamber. She rather liked the retro look off the glossy white surfaces, and the strange round things on the walls, but she was still too struck by the very notion of having a suite of rooms to fully appreciate the sixties-utilitarian aesthetic.

A space-princess. Yes. That's exactly how it made her feel.

After such a rather unnecessary shock to her stirring system, Aylish slowed things down with a bit of a yawn and a stretch and a, 'Hi there! How are you today?'

You may be wondering who this was addressed to. Well, I can confirm that this wasn't addressed to any person in particular–as we may think of–but instead to the walls, ceiling and floor that surrounded her.

In seeming response, the constant and near-imperceptible hum of the life-sustaining machinery that encompassed her altered pitch ever so briefly.

She nodded in acknowledgement, not at all feeling crazy, and padded off to her bathroom.

The lass didn't think she'd ever get used to the sonic shower, just as she thought she'd never get over the vast, floor-to-ceiling 'windows' that formed one whole wall of the chamber. Right now, as she walked back into the chamber, she could make out the faint details of a few moons, near silhouetted against the infinite star field beyond.

It made her wonder about her friend and protector's powers of deduction rather than when or where she'd parked the Tardis–or why. Clara had stated that she'd had the same configuration of rooms during her last days as a human–whatever that meant–and thought that she would appreciate them. Such a strange, strange place she now lived in... Which was ok. Aylish dealt best with 'strange' anyway.

After throwing on some clothes she stared at herself in the huge vanity mirror and briefly wondered what might become of her. Then she completely forgot about that and turned her attention to her physical reflection. Framing her green eyes with dark eyeliner and shadow as black as night, she then applied bone-white makeup to her already pale complexion and finished it all off with a black, latticed choker. Hauntingly stunning is how I would describe the end result, but it was for nobody in particular and bore no real purpose beyond Aylish's attempt to try and meet her own self-perceived ideal of 'cool'.

Her stomach then suddenly growled for a lovely slice of hot, buttery toast, so Aylish headed out for the kitchen–as well as to make sure that her sister was getting up for school.

Reclining in one of the console room's 'reading chairs' with a cup of coffee in one hand and one of a gazillion books in the other, Aylish listened to her music while waiting for the day to begin proper. Where would they go to today? What would see? The last couple of days had been an utter rush and she loved it.

She found she needn't remind the designated driver that they were on a quest either. A chalkboard close beside her chair bore evidence of the Time Lady's extensive work–which often carried on long after Aylish had retired for the night.

Skeeter Davis asked why her heart went on beating as Aylish studied the spider's web of elementary thought, before wondering why her eyes cried. The name of her father's flight–'Flight 630515'–was circled in chalk with many lines going off to many names she didn't recognise, but the boldest of them all led to a photo of an angel statue that had been circled furiously. The echoing singer then in enquired if they knew it was the end of the world, but before she could give an answer as to the why...

Skip...

The lass frowned as a familiar warble died away and the sound of light footsteps resonated from the walkway above.

'I Miss You' by Blink 182 was also subsequently passed over in favor of a live rendition of 'Protect and Survive' by Runrig, the designated driver sharing Aylish's soft-spot for a Scotsman with an electric guitar.

'She's late,' followed the voice of the Time Lady, equally strict and fair in it's delivery.

Aylish snapped the book shut. It was too weird anyway–going on about what to expect in your last moment if something called a 'quantum shade' gets you–and it looked like it had been chucked at a wall a few times.

'You know the last two days should have been Hogmanay?' She enquired as she ascended the stairs and met Clara's suddenly hurt gaze.

'But I thought my lessons were, you know? Fun!' the Time Lady passively protested.

'School's school, though, right?' Aylish replied as she settled into one of the seemingly brand-new pilot's seats. That really didn't help, and Aylish quickly averted her eyes from the look Clara gave her. 'Plus, you had to get her that frog-dog thing...' She deflected as she scrutinized her tatty Element skate shoes.

'A Frolf,' Clara clarified as she took to tinkering with the console, 'and I'm only trying to make it up to her for... stuff...' Which she'd hoped these lessons would do. Even now she couldn't help but feel guilty toward the wee mite.

'Didn't get me anything...' Aylish mumbled. This of course wasn't true, as the Time Lady had 'modified' the lass' trusty old rucksack so that it was now slightly dimensionally transcendental–try saying that after a bottle of Arcadia's finest!

'I'm sorry,' Clara replied sharply and looked up at her. 'Would you like me to give you a bed-time story every night?'

Aylish just stuck her tongue out at the Teacher, who shook her head and returned to her work with a smirk. 'I want you to look at my laptop though,' she then insisted for the fifth time.

'All in good time,' Clara said absently.

'Time, time, time... It's all about time with you people, isn't it?' Aylish jokingly grumbled and the Tardis replied with a grumble of its own.

The Time Lady looked all around with a shocked little expression, then returned to Aylish with a knowing grin.

'It's alive,' the lass remarked with child-like wonder. 'The Tardis, I mean...'

'I wanted to know how long it would take for you to realise,' Clara admitted. 'When did you?'

Aylish wanted to tell her that it was the moment she entered the door, but a riotous noise that sounded like her sister came laughing and yelping and tripping down the side passage.

'Catch it Mr Wagglesworth!' she cried as an errant tennis ball bounced off the walkway floor, flew over the edge, ricocheted off a step and went hurtling straight at the busy Time Lady.

Aylish's breath froze as the ball went spinning in slow motion and Darcy skidded to a halt with a world-ending gasp atop the stairs. As if it were nothing however, Clara raised a hand and caught the object just inches from her face without turning away from her work.

Stifling a smile, the Teacher looked up at nothing in particular and pocketed the ball. When she did train her attention on her student though, she offered a stern beckon with her finger and pointed at Aylish without a word uttered about disruption or tardiness.

'Time,' Clara began in her most enigmatic voice as she slowly strolled along the upper walkway, head high and hands neatly held behind her back. Perched upon Aylish's knee, Darcy stared with wide-eyed attentiveness, looking very prim and proper in the uniform that the Time Lady had conjured for her. 'Time can get a bit messy. While most of it is in flux and changes like the clouds in the sky, there are moments called Fixed Points. These are events that dictate the general course of the universe and so form the very pedestals of the continuum... To try and change one of these would be catastrophic.'

The thought then occurred to our darkly fated heroin that the falling leaf that had led to her existence might not have been down to random chance at all–a conversation topic she'd quite like to bring up with her old mentor if she were ever granted permission to meet him again...

'She's seven years old,' Aylish then retorted. The lass understood why Clara had asked her to sit on this particular lesson, but it seemed absurd to try and teach Darcy something quite so complex.

'It's not hard,' the little girl than piped up. 'If you try to change the really important stuff you'll break something. Which I think is bad.'

'Very good! Top of the class!' Clara declared and offered a grin that made Darcy feel very, very proud. 'Aylish,' she swiftly added. 'Report to me after school.'

'You're in trouble,' Darcy quietly tittered and pulled a face at her sister.

'Whatever,' Aylish muttered and ruffled her hair in that way that she hated.

Clara chose for the hint of disorder to slide as she continued. 'Deaths are the most common,' the Time Lady cautiously imparted while the furry, frog-shaped critter yawned with its big, toothless mouth. 'Unfortunately... Along with a few major historic happenings which you might know. There are other no-no's too with time travel, such as going back over personal events, and even worse, meeting yourself... But we're here, specifically, in this place, to talk about historic events.'

Carefully, she started stepping down the flight of stairs to the main deck. 'Can either of you name an inspiring astronautical event that inspired to the extent of becoming a fixed point?' Knowing Darcy's love of all things concerning spacemen and rocket ships, Clara figured this would be a sure win.

'The Apollo Eleven Landing,' Aylish blurted.

'Important,' Clara noted, 'but that's an entirely different story.'

'Clara!' Darcy hailed and waved her hand in a bid to be noticed over her much bigger sister.

The Teacher gave her a cautioning look.

'Sorry... Miss Oswald!' she added, only being allowed to call her 'Clara' out of school hours.

Clara smiled and nodded for her to proceed.

'Valentina Tereshkova,' the little girl excitedly answered, 'the first woman in space!'

'Good answer,' the Teacher enthused as she walked up to the door and pulled it open. 'I might have picked that one too. Would you like to see the actual event?'

Clara then stepped away from the hatch with a beckoning wave and a presentational gesture.

Darcy gingerly approached the open door, clutching her big sister's hand for reassurance, and as she crossed the threshold she let go a tiny gasp that meant the world to her expectant Teacher.

The frozen stars twinkled in their billions through every window, bidding the travellers a safe journey, and dead-ahead loomed a sapphire marble that no jeweller could ever outmatch.

'We're currently in orbit of Neptune,' Clara informed happily. 'The date is the twenty fifth of August, nineteen eighty nine...'

'Lookey Aylish!' Darcy cheered with glee, and her big sister felt much like Arthur Dent in the Restaurant at the End of the Universe as she was led through the diner to the door–Arthur Dent apparently being a fictional character in this particular corner of the multiverse.

Together they watched the swirling maelstroms that racked the planet below, and admired the foggy moon that hung to one side, giggling.

'Any minute...' Clara said with anticipation as she stepped up behind them. '...Now!' She pointed to a shining dot hurtling across the face of the swirling deep. 'The Voyager Two space probe on it's closest approach to the planet. Do you see it?'

'Yeah!' Darcy chirped.

'Three days from now, it will take its farewell shot of our solar system,' the Time Lady added reverently, 'showing the twin crescents of the planet and its moon, Triton. That photograph will inspire the chief engineer behind the Adelaide Brooke Mars Mission. Her granddaughter, Susie Fontaine Brooke will follow in her footsteps and pilot the first lightspeed ship to Proxima Centauri...'

As the hardy little probe blinked in its brief passing, Darcy found herself waving back.

'Forty thousand years from now, it will have crossed deep space to reach a star called Ross Two Four Eight, and in two hundred and ninety six thousand years it will finally reach the Sirius system,' Clara continued with an air of mystery, glad her student was enjoying herself and hoping she was inspiring her own future endeavors. 'That is if it isn't retrieved by a certain Draconian expedition... The golden disc it carries contains a wealth of information on your people, and even though first contact won't take place for a long time after, it goes much smoother than might have been the case thanks to the information held by the Draconian emissary. After that, the two great civilizations have their rough patches–just like any relationship–but... they ultimately get past it... and in the twenty sixth century, the Terra-Draconian Empire-'

A spike of green fury burst from Triton's shadow and struck the Voyager, obliterating it. Darcy jumped back into Clara with shock while the Time Lady reeled from the shock to the universe.

Aylish heard a loud crack and looked down at the shattered face of her wrist watch. 'Clara?' she asked uneasily and turned to find the girl clutching her head. 'Clara! What's wrong?'

'What have they done?!' she panted, staring wide-eyed at the floor as the future she had described unravelled, along with everything else.

'Clara?' Aylish repeated, gently, and placed a hand on her friend's shoulder.

The Time Lady looked up and straightened with gritted teeth and a vengeful gaze.

Where the probe had been, there now floated a shimmering anomaly with a myriad cracks spreading out of it, as if the whole scene were printed on fractured glass. Perhaps even more disturbing was the fact that the stars beyond were, one by one, going out...

'What's happening?' Darcy asked, frightened.

Ignoring her, the Time Lady pulled a beautiful pocket watch from her jacket, flicking the glyph-engraved cover open to observe the time. The face was near perfect, save for a few chips showing near the rim. Snapping it shut and putting it back, she then sprinted back into the Tardis as the Cloister Bell started to ring.

'Clara! What the hell is going on?!' Aylish demanded as she and her sister followed her in.

Clara halted her busy coordinate setting and console tweaking to give her companion a telling look and a glance toward her sister.

Aylish clamped her hands over Darcy's ears.

'You know what I was saying about altering a fixed point?'

'Yes...' Aylish replied, ever so warily.

'Somebody has done just that.'

'Well, what are you going to do about it?' the lass asked, releasing her sister.

Clara stared at the rotor as she thought about it. Aylish had never seen her quite so shaken and unsure before.

'I mean... I'm a Time Lady, and I was on scene...'

'And...' Aylish encourage.

Clara then remembered what her mentor kept telling her about following her hearts and a stony resolution set in. She reached out for the handle, 'I'm going to do the third worse thing,' and pulled it.