Conspiracy on Karn
Chapter 1
A tide of crimson met Ohila's eyes as she emerged from her chambers, the newest members of the Sisterhood were lined up for morning inspection outside her door. As she always did, Ohila puffed out her chest and adopted her sternest countenance before stepping towards the leftmost sister. They were all taller than Ohila, now that old age had finally been allowed to catch up with her, but it made her no less intimidating to the new recruits. She inspected the first sister, taking in her perfectly-arranged robes and hood. Zahilo was always the first in line for inspection and her dress was always immaculate. She was loyal to the sisterhood, ambitious too, but unimaginative. Her young neck and sharp chin was the only part of her face not shadowed by her hood. Without changing her expression, Ohila turned on her heel, took one step forward and turned back to inspect the next sister. She repeated this exercise for the first nine sisters in the line-up, stopping only once to straighten a sleeve on Rula. As she turned to inspect the final sister she gaped for a moment, nearly breaking her act of pompous severity. Compared to the youthful jaws she'd been inspecting, this one was practically obscene. A wrinkled, liver-spotted neck garnished with a wiry grey beard and thick moustache. Ohila sharply regained her composure and addressed the assembly.
"Acceptable, sisters, but scruffy," she said calmly. "You chose your appearance when you came to me today. When I see you next, choose to be tidier. Dismissed."
Zahilo as she nodded and led the procession out through the stone doors at the end of the cavern. She expected the final sister to remain, but the figure skulked out behind the others. Two young serving boys, who had stood outside during inspection and opened the great stone doors ahead of the departing sisters, began to pull them shut again. Ohila hitched up the skirt of her robes and jogged lightly to grab one by the arm.
"Derrin, could you bring some tea to the surface ceremony cave?" she said. The boy nodded, flashing the polite smile all men in the Sisterhood's temple were trained to give their superiors - the smile that never quite met their eyes - and left.
"And two cups," she called after him wearily.
Ohila climbed the stone stairs towards the surface of Karn, treating each step like a military operation. Closer and closer. To the moment she'd known was coming ever since she'd last seen the man at the end of the line. The warrior who was meant to end the Time War, but hadn't. Not yet, anyway. And the sin she'd hoped would be wiped away with the Daleks was waiting for her at the top of the stairs. Ohila stepped out from behind the stone wall that obscured the steps from view, a harsh wind grazed her anguished face.
There he was.
How long must it have been for him? He'd looked young when he left Karn, centuries of pain and loss and absurdity and wanderlust trapped behind a face barely older than a child's. Time had caught up with the Time Lord, for now he looked like a man sick of the Universe in a Universe doing its level best to wear him down. Ohila recognised the wizened neck and beige beard, but the robe had been discarded and she could now look at the rest of what she'd started. The man's face was a wasteland of time-worn wrinkles, his skin rough and impenetrable like armour. His unkempt hair, slightly darker than his beard, clumped at the top of his head into a broad tuft. His frame drowned in a peeling leather jacket, under which Ohila could see a frayed scarf double-looped around his neck and the bandolier he'd taken from the girl he'd failed still clung to his chest. The man was holding a steaming cup of tea, apparently taken from the pot left thoughtlessly on the slab where she'd died. A second cup stood waiting for her.
"Good afternoon," he said.