(Continued from "Deals with Devils, Part I)
Nightmare.
Upon seeing it, the word was planted into the back of the Monitor's mind, spreading cold, tingling tendrils throughout his body. He wanted to look away from it, to run and hide like a child from an imaginary monster in the closet, but a paralyzing dread coupled with the motionlessness of his two companions prevented him from exhibiting his true reaction in an open manner.
And he feared that, were he to turn his back upon it, it would swoop upon him and drag him into a haunted abyss a thousand times colder and blacker than the Void which surrounded the Keeper's building.
It stood twice as tall as he did, perhaps even taller, and possessed a width across its chest and shoulders that may well have been impossible for him to encircle with outstretched arms. Limber, long limbs that appeared to be bone, sinew, and muscle covered by a tight and unyielding skin were attached to a trunk formed from the darkest of black, fashioned with the ripples and curves that denoted an absence of any excess fat. From the elongated, spindly fingers fell wisps of black smoke, as if it were bleeding some kind of noxious fume. Atop the shoulders sat a large, bulbous head, smooth and featureless, save for the twin protrusions which jutted from either side and formed a pair of horns that arced out beyond the shoulders and arced around, coming together at a point central to the thing's "face"—if it indeed could be called a face, as no external organs of any sort could be discerned upon the head, not even eyes. The head tapered to a sharp, angular chin which rested against its chest, suggesting a state of dormancy.
Discomfort prevailing, the Monitor took a step away from it. He looked at the Librarian and the Paladin, and saw that, like him, they too had retreated.
"What is that?" the Paladin hissed. Her rifle was now tight in her grip, ready to be used.
"Something I found," the Keeper remarked, standing in front of it. She gave the trio half a smile. "I assure the three of you that it's quite harmless in this state."
The Monitor nodded, but did not approach. "Where did you find it?" the Librarian asked.
"In a desolate area, not far from the place which you have come to know as the Death Zone. But it was here long before all of that, before the time of Rassilon."
The Monitor turned his attention upon her, thankful to tear his eyes away from the mammoth monstrosity behind her. "It's a Gallifreyan creature?" he asked.
"I found it on our world, but it is not Gallifreyan in origin." She turned back, looking up at the sleeping giant. "It arrived here sometime in the infancy of the planet, from somewhere else beyond our knowledge, perhaps even from another universe. Precisely why, I cannot say."
The Librarian moved to her side, reaching out and touching the transparent encasement. "Is it sentient?" he inquired.
"No... and yes. As absurd as it may sound, it is simultaneously both living and machine."
"Like a Cyberman," the Paladin put in.
"No, not like a Cyberman. The Cybermen impose their physical alterations upon unwilling subjects through violent and relatively primitive means. This—" she paused, stroking the glass, "—this is a perfect weaving together of the cybernetic and the organic. There is a seamless continuity to its structure. I can point out specific constructs within it which are artificial, in contrast to the aspects which are part of its natural biology, but to attempt to discern where the natural ends and the artificial begins is an impossible task to undertake. One simply blends into the other."
Merriana nodded her head, a satisfied smile filling her face as she faced her guests. "It is as perfect a balance of natural and artificial life as I have ever found in this universe. To compare the work of beings such as Cybermen to it is like comparing a stone-age wheel to the TARDIS in terms of transportation capability."
"So it's dormant at the moment," the Monitor said, unwilling to close the distance between himself and it. "When will it wake?"
"When I desire it to wake. Though my knowledge of the creature is limited, I can tell you that it seems to require a large amount of rest, as its energy expenditure is incredibly high, much like that of a shrew."
"A what?" the Paladin asked.
"Earth creature," the Librarian replied. "Requires almost ninety percent of its own body weight in food each day due to its high metabolism, or else it will die."
The Keeper nodded in the elder man's direction. "Precisely," she concurred, "except that in the case of the Absolute Rectifier, it needs vast amounts of rest rather than food as we understand it. It does need to consume, yes, and it subsists on a diet of something other than conventional food, but sleep is far more valuable, as it can regenerate itself in a limited sense through unconsciousness, as if sleep serves as a sort of medical treatment for it."
"I'm sorry, what did you call it?" the Monitor asked.
"The Absolute Rectifier."
"And where did you contrive that name?"
"From it, because that is its name."
The Monitor glanced at his two companions for a moment, then back at the Keeper as she continued. "An odd name, isn't it? But that is its designation nevertheless, given to it by beings who may have ceased to exist long before it arrived on Gallifrey. When I came across it, I also found with it fragments of writing, inscribed with a language which I don't dare pretend to understand. But when I woke it, it communicated with me, told me what it was called, and presented bits and pieces of its history to me, as fragmented and incomplete as the inscriptions that had accompanied it."
She walked to the other side of the tall cylinder, gazing at the almost featureless face. "It must have lost a great deal of its memory, because it gave me so little detail. But it told me it was weak, told me it was dying. It had preserved as much of itself as it could through dormancy, but having been asleep for so many millennia, it needed to rise and eat. I told it that I'd do what I could to help it."
She paused, looking at the other three with a soft expression. "Then the first attack came."
The Monitor frowned "First attack?" he asked.
"Then and there, at the site. Two Time Lords from the future—from my future, that is—came to intercept me. Deverost and Qotile, they were called. Members of the Council."
"How do you know this?" The Paladin challenged.
"Because they told me as much," Merriana replied with a sour look. "Braggarts, they were. Talked on and on about how they had been ordered to come back and stop me from following through with my 'diabolical plan,' as they put it. Sadistic ones, too. Acted like they were getting their jollies from trying to intimidate me. If they'd had any sort of torture device on hand, I'm sure they would have loved to apply it."
The Librarian mumbled something under his breath. "And what did you do, Keeper?" The Paladin asked.
"Me? I did nothing. The Absolute Rectifier, on the other hand..."
She took a step forward, a haunting stare filling her eyes. "It came to life," she began, speaking in a tone that barely exceeded a whisper, "and sprang from its place. Advanced on the two Time Lords with a speed I've never before seen from any creature, blurring through the air like a fleeting shadow, as if it were unhindered by any natural force in its movements. Before I could react, it was upon them, and placed one hand on each face. Then they disappeared—all three of them, along with the TARDIS the Time Lords had arrived in! Half a moment later, the Absolute Rectifier returned. It thanked me for providing it with nourishment."
"Nourishment?" the Monitor asked, "You mean it devoured the Time Lords?"
"Forgive me, Keeper—" the Librarian began.
"It did, in the blink of an eye."
"So it lives on flesh and blood?" the Monitor continued. "It consumes creatures?"
"Not in the manner in which you're thinking, Monitor."
"My dear Keeper, I beg your pardon, but who did you say the Time Lords were who confronted you?"
The young woman turned toward the older man. "Deverost and Qotile," she replied. "And I know what you're going to tell me."
"And what is that?" the Monitor asked.
"That no Time Lords called by those names ever existed."
The Paladin looked at the Librarian. "Is she telling the truth?" she asked.
"She is," the hairless Gallifreyan replied, nodding.
"Because the Absolute Rectifier did not simply kill them. It erased them from history. They never existed."
The Monitor looked up at the ominous giant, unresponsive to the conversation about it. He took a step forward—a small step. "It did what?"
"That's how it survives, Monitor. The Absolute Rectifier targets creatures and consumes them by essentially devouring their past, up to the point of their conception. It feeds upon their past existence through this method, essentially absorbing a lifetime in a fraction of a second."
The Paladin gestured back to the array of covered containers behind her. "And the Cybermen, the Daleks, the... Lonely Assassin. Your companion there disposed of them as well?"
"Yes, but as you can see they did not cease to exist in the same manner as the two Time Lords did. I'm not sure why, but my theory is that our being in this Void somehow nullifies the full effect of their eradication in their respective timelines. Fortunate for me at any rate, as their presence provides me with my rather unorthodox nourishment, as I've already explained to you."
"Amazing!" the Librarian hissed.
The Paladin moved to the Keeper's side. "Yet it doesn't endanger you," she said.
The other female shook her head. "It has something to do with the bond we've forged when it first awoke," she replied. "It looks upon me as its liaison, for lack of a better way of putting it."
"You mean as its master," the Monitor quipped.
"I don't think so," the Keeper answered, her tone soft and pensive. "I don't command it, per se, Monitor. I feel no sense of superiority over it. Nor do I detect a tension of power between the two of us. It's... well, I suppose you could say that the relationship is not completely unlike that of an ideal marriage in which the husband and wife are on the same level of thought and purpose in every conceivable way. It's a bond so perfect, so symbiotic, that it could almost be considered spiritual."
The Paladin wrinkled her nose. "Who'd want to marry that?" she scowled, gesturing at the giant with the tip of her rifle.
"I don't mean it in the physical sense, child," the Keeper replied, winking.
The Monitor put his hands to his forehead. "But I'm lost here," he said. "This thing, this—'Absolute Rectifier,' as you put it—it simply caused two Time Lords to cease to exist?"
"Yes," the Keeper murmured.
"Meaning that, in so doing, no other person would realize what had happened."
"Precisely, Monitor. Deverost and Qotile are not simply dead; they never came into being at all. They were never born. They never grew up. If there were any significant historical acts caused by one or both of their actions, those acts never came to pass, or at least didn't come to pass by their hand, meaning that history somehow changed. And the only reason I know this is because of my bond with the Absolute Rectifier. If I were not bonded to it, I would be as ignorant of their identities and existence as you.
"As a matter of fact, that's one of the amazing things about this creature: it's ability to defy what we consider to be fixed points in time through its ability to erase people from history. It is not bound to our rules, whether naturally occurring or artificially put into place. When the Absolute Rectifier decides to eliminate a being, that being will be eliminated, and not a single person will remember it after it has happened, nobody but me and the Rectifier itself."
"How!?" the Monitor cried, shaking his head. "How is this possible!?"
Merriana held up a hand. "I have a theory about this," she said. "Observe."
She led the trio to a waist-high platform next to the Rectifier's stasis chamber, sporting an octagonal top and arrayed with a keyboard of three rows which bordered the eight sides of the tabletop. "I've not seen one of these in a good while," the Librarian remarked. "This is an ancient mobile analysis station."
The Monitor shook his head. "We used one of these in our basic science classes when I was a child. Had to have been millennia old, but still worked as well as anything."
The Keeper smiled at the two men. "Good to know that our early technology holds up so well," she said, pressing a red button in the midst of the keyboard array. A pinpoint of light at the center of the platform flashed, displaying a glowing, blue nebula that hovered just above the flat surface. Gallifreyan characters began to scroll through the midst of the nebula; Merriana responded to them with a hasty tapping of buttons on all sides of the array. As she did so, the text disappeared, replaced by the shimmering image of a transparent, glowing white orb, ornamented on its surface with small, orange triangles composed of shades of yellow, orange, and red.
"What I have here is the working out of a theory I began to formulate during my exile," she explained, moving around the platform. "Fortunately, having seen and heard enough in my invisible travels, I was pleased to see that my theory was more or less proven to be correct."
"And what was that theory?" the Paladin asked, bending down toward the image.
"That time as we understand it is not strictly linear, but is in fact far more complex in its function and form, particularly when one includes additional factors such as alternative timelines, relative, parallel, and intersecting dimensions, and other such elements. Indeed, time is more... 'spherical,' shall we say."
"The same concept taught in our academies to children," the Monitor replied. "Simplified a bit from the truth, yes, but adequate for grasping the basic understanding."
"Yes, but unlike you I had no previous instruction in this field. What I came across was due to a great deal of trial and error in my travels, and while I've yet to work out every detail concerning the way in which time can and does work, I have gained a great wealth of instruction through my experiences, even though I cannot directly interfere within time and space."
The Keeper reached for the orb, taking hold of either side of the glowing shape, and pulled the hemispheres away from each other. In response, the orb enlarged, revealing a closeup of the colored triangular points, as well as a subtle array of lines tightly packed together, much like a ball of yarn composed of a fine thread.
"These colored indicators," she began, pointing to one of the triangles, "are points in time that are fixed—or that should be fixed, based upon their color. Yellow indicators are potential fixed points, orange are probable fixed points, and red are definitively fixed."
"And how did you manage to construct this?" the Monitor asked.
"Observations of the travels of the Time Lords, mostly. I hear a great many conversations about such matters when they think that nobody is around to listen," she replied, winking. "At any rate, I'm sure that there are more which I have failed to map for our plane of reality, but I trust that you get a sufficient understanding of the idea from this, correct?"
The Paladin and the Librarian nodded. The Monitor motioned with his hand for her to continue.
"Very good. As you can also see, these points are connected together by what appear to be bundles of threads crisscrossing and connecting at various places. These are, of course, time streams, all arranged according to their proper places in the continuum, in this and all other known dimensions. But what you don't see, is this—"
The Keeper reached for the floating image, wrapping her fingers around a bundle of strings and indicators, and pulled them toward her, enlarging the threads to the size of power conduit tubes. She then inserted her other hand into the holographic projection, clasped both sides of the image, and turned it on its side. Two levels could be seen: the blue coloring of the standard timelines, and a deep, burning crimson of similar lines on the underside.
The Librarian crouched closer to the image, his finger reaching for the red arrangement of lines. "More timelines?" he asked.
"Not precisely," the Keeper replied. "They're timelines, yes, but unconventional in that they run in counter-time."
A scowl filled the face of the old man, but the Monitor spoke first. "Counter-time?" he asked, "Are you referring to reverse time streams?"
"Which flow backward in time rather than forward," The Keeper interjected, "and do so naturally, without the need of artificial means such as a TARDIS for effecting travel. Somehow, they function on a plane of existence in which time naturally flows backwards—at least according to our perception."
"Extraordinary!" The Librarian exclaimed. "I've heard proposed theories of such a concept, but never seen it worked out this simply and elegantly!"
"You're very kind, Librarian. Thank you."
"But what does this have to do with your Absolute Rectifier?" the Monitor asked, gesturing back toward the slumbering behemoth with the tip of her rifle.
"It is because of the Absolute Rectifier that I learned of counter-time," Merriana replied. "You see, it has the ability, due to its alien makeup, to enter counter-time and use it to find its target before re-entering the proper timeline, much in the same way that one would travel by river when the current of that river happens to flow in the desired direction of travel, boarding and exiting a boat at the proper places. It lurks within a counter-time stream and leave that stream at the appropriate moment. And if it fails to achieve its objective in a given time stream, it simply returns to counter-time and finds another stream to 'float' upon, for lack of a better way of putting it."
The Keeper turned back to look upon the Absolute Rectifier. "It's ageless. Patient," she said, more to herself than to the others. "It has all of eternity to fulfill its purpose, and yet it performs its tasks in the blink of an eye from the perspective of anybody bound to this continuum of time. Much like myself in the Void, its body draws no distinction between an hour and a century, and as it is not bound by conventional time, it therefore takes as much time as it needs to fulfill its task."
"These counter-time streams, as you call them," The Librarian began, "did the Rectifier come from a place in which counter-time was its standard state of existence?"
The Keeper shrugged. "I don't know," she murmured. "As I said, I've learned much about it, and yet for every question I've answered, three more unanswerable questions arise. It seems to be just as much at home on our plane of existence as it is upon any other in which it travels. It is, in a sense, a sentient, living TARDIS, with a will and purpose of its own."
The Monitor moved to the other side of the cylinder, fighting the apprehension which weighed upon his body. Despite the horrific tingle that tickled his spine, he held his place and looked up at the giant. "And this Rectifier's 'purpose,' " he said, "could it be directed toward ridding us of The Doctor in the same way it did your other two Time Lords?"
The Keeper's pursed mouth began to spread into a mischievous smile.
The four made their way back to the spherical TARDIS, leaving behind the dormant behemoth in its place.
"I would love to see the creature in its conscious state," The Librarian remarked.
"It is amazing to watch," the Keeper answered, rubbing her hands together, "but not entirely safe for you. The Rectifier will be hungry when it awakes. Feeding it the spent time of Daleks and Cybermen serves its purpose in keeping it alive, but it's a very unsatisfactory form of nourishment, much like sustaining yourself on bread and water when your stomach craves a great feast. Like I said, I have a symbiotic bond with it, but it's not control in the strictest sense of the word. I cannot guarantee your safety when it awakes, not all three of you at least."
The Monitor paused before the ship's door. "I've scanned your Rectifier with my quantum screwdriver. Once we have exited the Void, we will run this scan through the TARDIS, which will in turn reconfigure the Time Lock surrounding your structure, thus permitting the Rectifier to exit through Time Lock when you are ready to unleash it," he said.
"Very well," the Keeper replied.
Opening the rounded panel, he entered the spacious interior and walked to the central console, with the other three following him.
The Keeper stared at the command center with fascinated interest. "Magnificent," she commented, running a hand against the outer wall. "I've seen the inside of a modern TARDIS before in my little...'excursions'... but I still envy the superior efficiency of your ships in comparison with my improvised fossil of a craft."
The Librarian laughed. "We'll see to it that you obtain your own TARDIS upon your return," he answered.
"Paladin," the Monitor barked, "a moment of assistance here, please."
The female Gallifreyan walked over to help the Time Lord. The Keeper observed them for a moment as they manipulated the console, then turned to the Librarian. "And he'll keep his end of the bargain?" she said in a low voice.
"Oh, I believe so, yes," the Librarian replied. "The Monitor is a gruff man, and a typical bureaucrat in many ways, but he keeps his promises."
"Not all of them," the Keeper sighed. "I have observed him as being less than honest at times."
"Be that as it may, the Paladin and I will hold him to his word. Once the Doctor is eliminated, you'll be freed from the Void without delay, as promised."
A smile of genuine relief filled the Keeper's face. "I cannot tell you how wonderful that sounds," she murmured. "Eternal loneliness is a terrible burden to bear, Librarian, and walking invisible and unheard among multitudes only served to exacerbate that sense of isolation."
"What will you do when you return?" he asked.
She looked up at him. "Live," she replied. "Live like I never have before."
The Monitor and the Paladin returned. "Here," he said, handing her a small, cylindrical object formed from a seamless piece of mirrored metal. "This data is from our scanners, gathered on the day that the Doctor—or Doctors, I should say—pulled Gallifrey from the known universe. Everything is there: the biological scans of the Doctors, the transmissions beamed to and from the TARDISs, and other information, as much as we could gather before the planet vanished."
The raven-haired woman held up the object. "This is an old data storage unit," she remarked. "You still use these?"
"Rarely. But it's compatible with your mobile analysis station."
The Keeper nodded. "That will be sufficient for my use," she said.
"There is also a transmission code on that unit," the Monitor explained. "If what you say is true, and the Doctor is eliminated from existence by your Absolute Rectifier, then the information concerning the Doctor and his incarnations will be erased from that storage unit. When and if that happens, the code will automatically transmit, the Time Lock will disengage, and you will be immediately freed. From there, you should be able to navigate your makeshift TARDIS to Gallifrey without trouble."
"And," the Paladin added with a grin, "we'll be able to see you, hear you, and interact with you in real time and space."
The Monitor extended his hand. "I look forward to both of our goals being attained shortly," he said.
The Keeper took his hand, giving it a firm shake. "I shall effect the plan as soon as you leave," she responded. "Thank you for giving me this opportunity for redemption."
"The Coven will be excited to hear this news," the Paladin said. "You'll be welcomed back like royalty, my Keeper."
A sad smile filled the face of the young, exiled female. "I'm afraid I don't deserve such a welcome," she replied. "I'm a simple scientist learning truth, Paladin. I'm no heroine or ruler."
She turned and began to walk out.
"Wait!" the Librarian cried. "Let me stay with you!"
The Monitor scowled at the bald fellow. "Are you serious?" he asked.
"I am!" he replied. "She's been so lonely all these years. Is it fair to return her into this state of solitude when she's doing so much for us?"
"You don't know what you're asking," the Keeper murmured, turning around. "This is an unpleasant existence, Librarian, and I have no idea how long it will take for the Rectifier to accomplish its mission. You're better off returning to the known universe. Go back with your companions and live your life."
The elderly man expanded his chest. "I am the Librarian," he announced. "My purpose is to learn, catalog, and store as much information as I possibly can. That has been my sole desire, even after several regenerations, and I do not intend to cease from that practice now, especially when I have access to you and all that you have seen and heard in your many, many years of existence. I have no doubt that you have far more information gathered than I could ever have gathered in my lifetimes. I want to learn from you, to hear your wisdom. I want you to tell me of things I've not seen: wonders, terrors, things mundane and things fantastic. I want to learn as much as I can, gather it and prepare it for others to learn about."
He approached her, laying a hand on her shoulder. "You are the Keeper," he continued. "I have sacrificed much of who I am as a Gallifreyan in order to follow your ways and keep your memory alive. Please, I beg of you: grant me this single request."
The Keeper tilted her head, considering the elder man's earnest face. A soft smile began to spread across her mouth. "It would be a wonderful thing to hold a conversation with somebody else again," she murmured, "rather than talking at beings which cannot see, hear, or touch me."
She glanced at the Monitor and the Paladin. "I've plenty of unused sealed food stores here, things I can no longer consume, but should be fine for him. If the both of you are willing, I will take him on as a... companion, if you will."
The Paladin glanced at the Monitor. "There is nothing that requires his presence that I can think of, Monitor," the armor-clad female said. "And if it should, we know where to find him."
The Monitor grunted, rubbing his chin for a moment. "True," he replied, furrowing his brow. "And I imagine, Keeper, that your loneliness for all this time has indeed been punishment enough for you."
He looked at the Paladin and gestured toward the control station. She responded with a nod of her head before trotting over to it. Her fingers began to run over the controls, and the TARDIS responded by coming to life, emitting a deep hum.
"Very well, Librarian," the Monitor continued. "If it's no imposition upon the Keeper, then it's fine with me."
"Oh, thank you!" the hairless male responded, his face a radiant display of joy. "Thank you, Monitor! You don't know what this means to me!"
"Yes, yes," the Monitor grumbled, waving him off. "Happy to oblige you in your desire to remain. But I intend to leave."
"Where will you be going?" the Keeper inquired.
"To find the Doctor," the Paladin called from the console. "See what sort of mischief he's engaging in."
"Will you attempt to thwart him in his endeavors?"
"No," the Monitor replied. "At least, not directly. We intend only to watch him from a safe distance. For him to learn of our existence would prod him into investigating us, and I do not want him to have any clue as to what will happen." His face hardened as he glared at a point in space somewhere over the Keeper's shoulder. "And I don't want him to have a clue as to what's coming," he said in a dark voice.
"A wise precaution, Monitor," the Keeper remarked. "Perhaps you may be privileged to catch a glimpse of the Rectifier in action during your observation."
The man with the peppered hair turned his eyes upon the woman whose youthful appearance did not coincide with her age. He nodded again. "Farewell, Librarian," he said. "Give her good company until the two of you can join us again."
"That I intend to do," the Librarian replied in a sweet, melodic tone.
The door slid shut.
Moments later, the TARDIS vanished, leaving behind no trace of its existence. "Thank you again, Keeper," the Librarian said. His hand came down gently upon her shoulder. "I cannot tell you what an honor it is to be with you now, to meet face-to-face the one whose memory we fought to preserve and vindicate."
The head full of dark hair dropped down, as if the Keeper were looking at the floor. "What is it?" the Librarian asked, glancing toward Merriana's feet. "Is all well, Keeper?"
"Librarian," the Keeper said in a voice barely above a whisper, "I'm afraid I have not been completely honest with you."
A puzzled scowl filled the face of the crimson-robed Gallifreyan man. "About what?" he asked. "About your ability to get the Doctor?"
"No," she murmured. "The Rectifier will have no trouble locating and erasing him. My dishonesty involves something else, something that you may not be so eager to hear."
The head came up as the Keeper turned around to face the Librarian, her face an impassive, blank expression. The scowl on the man's face changed into a look of puzzlement, then curiosity, then surprise mingled with fear.
The Keeper's eyes had changed. The deep, black irises which the Librarian couldn't help but look upon half a dozen times before were gone, replaced by glowing, ghostly pinpoints of greenish-yellow light. It reminded the librarian of seeing the eyes of an animal as they reflected beamed light in an otherwise dark environment.
She took a step toward him. He retreated with a step of his own.
"You see, Librarian," the Keeper began, "I told you and your companions that something changed within me, that I was forced to consume the energy of aliens found in the Void because of the strange effect wrought upon me when I was sent here."
"Your... inverse regeneration comment. Yes, I remember," the Librarian responded, his voice carrying the slight hint of a quiver.
"The energy from the aliens sustains me, but only barely," the Keeper continued. "I need something stronger, fuller, more powerful to live upon. I need a source of energy which provides me with a robust abundance of strength. And I've found that strength."
The glow in her eyes began to intensify, turning her pupils into bright, blazing suns. "That strength is in creatures with one of the most powerful deposits of biological energy contained in their bodies. And it calls to me, Librarian, beckons me to take it, to consume it, to devour it and relish it with as much delight as you would relish a great feast."
The fear began to overtake the bald Gallifreyan. He continued to back away. "No..." he whispered.
"Oh yes, Librarian," the Keeper responded, nodding. A slick tongue ran across her lips. "I can sense that you're not far from your next regeneration. That's when I can sense it at its strongest, when Gallifreyans are about to undergo transformation. And it evokes within me a hunger—a lust, if you will—that is impossible for me to control."
Something solid bumped into the Librarian's back. He turned, shrieked at the sight of the glowing blue pillar. With a frantic step, he scrambled around it, continuing to back away from the approaching female that only moments ago had been just below the status of a goddess in his estimation, now transforming into something more akin to a demon.
"Keeper—" he began, holding out his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Keeper, wait! We can remedy this somehow!"
"You don't understand, Librarian," the Keeper replied, smiling, raising her own hands. Her eyes were completely gone now, replaced by burning orbs of yellow light. "I don't want to remedy this."
He turned, tried to run, but an iron hand clutched his arm. The fingers held tight despite his violent tugs. A second hand clutched his other arm.
"The strength I gather from the life energy of living creatures is tremendous," she murmured, pushing him backward with a strength far greater than her petite frame should have allowed. "And with the energy contained within you, I'll be revitalized in a way that you cannot understand."
Something hard and unyielding met the Librarian's back. The Keeper's face leaned in close to his, her mouth open in a manner suggesting a passionate kiss. The light within her pupils intensified, burning with a blinding brightness that forced the old Gallifreyan man's eyes to squint.
Something began to leave the librarian's mouth. More than just exhaled air.
"Keeper," he whispered, "no..."
Her mouth opened wider as a current of golden energy began to flow from his own...
Moments later, it was over.
The Keeper stepped over the shriveled, gnarled body that had been the Librarian. Removing her hood, she threw back her hood, her mouth spread wide in a joyous smile as the flood of energy pervaded her body. Youth, strength, vitality: it had all been fully restored. She felt like the young girl she had once been back on Gallifrey.
"Ah," she sighed, "fresh life force. How wonderful it tastes."
She held up the mirrored, thumb-sized cylinder, turning it over for a moment as she walked back toward the control room. Before exiting the large, pillared chamber, she opened a panel beside the open door. Her fingers pecked at an array of buttons, which in turn evoked a musical chirp. The door shut soundly as she crossed the threshold, followed by a mechanized voice announcing that the lock had engaged. She knew what would happen to the Librarian's corpse within the hour, knew she would have to contain it like all of the other ones, but there was time to deal with that later.
Right now, she needed to prepare for freedom.
The Keeper burst into the hall housing the Rectifier. With quick, deliberate strides, she came upon the mobile analysis station, still activated, and inserted the cylinder into a small port on the edge of the tabletop. The globe denoting her theory and study of time disappeared.
In its place came a cascade of images.
A man with a head full of curly hair, and a long, flowing scarf of primitive design.
A younger man, his face sly and smiling, sporting a bow tie
An elderly gentleman, his white hair absent from his forehead but cascading in back to his neck, in dark attire.
A tall, lanky fellow in a black, leathery jacket, sporting an angular face and wide eyes.
"Hello, Doctor," she whispered.
The images continued to cycle through. Accompanying each one was a complex readout of information that pertained to both the faces and the ship they piloted: biological readouts, engine signatures, data pertaining to places visited by each one of the incarnations. With each passing picture, the Keeper's smile widened.
She thumbed another button on the station's console. A beam of green light shot from the platform and into the forehead of the Rectifier. The giant's body spasmed and twitched in response, as if responding to a nightmare.
A moment later, the beam disappeared. The Keeper stood in front of the Absolute Rectifier. "Rise, my companion," she murmured.
Her fingers pressed against the transparent exterior. The barrier fell away as the horned head raised from its resting position. Something rumbled and gurgled in rhythm with the creature's chest as it rose and fell in slow, deliberate breaths. A strip of glowing red burned across the area where a pair of eyes should have been placed. It raised its right hand, then its left, flexing its fingers in and out of fists.
The Keeper shut her own eyes as its sensations melded with her own. "All is well, I see," she said, nodding. "But you're hungry. Reach out to me, my friend."
The Absolute Rectifier let out a low, rolling groan. The head turned toward Merriana as the right hand extended, still bleeding the smoke-like blackness from the fingers. The Keeper responded by placing her own left hand—as small as a toddler's by comparison—in its palm. A pulse of yellow light leapt from her fingers and rippled up the Rectifier's muscular arm. As it did so, the creature released a satisfied grunt of its own.
"That better?" she inquired. It gave a slow nod, still watching her. Another grunt came from deep within it.
"That's right," the Keeper responded. "It's true. We have an opportunity for freedom."
A massive foot stepped over the lip of the container, followed by the other. "You know the one you have to get," she continued. "I've communicated to you about him before. The data stream I gave you, did you understand it?"
Another nod, followed by a hissed inhalation. "Yes, I know," she replied. "But The Doctor will provide you with enough nourishment to sustain you for an eternity, my friend. He has lived so many lives, so many years, that it'll be a great feast for you."
The red strip blazed with furious illumination at her words. "No, it's good," The Keeper said in a soothing voice. "Our visitors have freed you. You can leave the Void and pursue The Doctor. And when you have found him and taken him, they will then free me."
She took hold of its massive arm with her own, affectionately stroking his forearm with her other hand. "Go now. Find him, and find your great feast, my dear," she cooed. "You will be satisfied beyond your wildest dreams. I will then join you, and we will be together again, free to go where we wish, do what we please, just like we've always dreamed."
A series of warm, beautiful thoughts came into the Keeper's mind. She squeezed the forearm again, then stepped back. "Hurry," she exclaimed. "Hurry and complete this task. Hunt down The Doctor and consume him. Find your feast!"
The Absolute Rectifier responded by turning away from her. It took a step, a second step. Then, with a speed that seemed to distort the time and space left in its wake, it dashed away, leaving The Keeper alone. A vulpine smile from the lips of the female Gallifreyan followed the fading contrail of warbled existence.
"Find your feast," she echoed, narrowing her eyes, "that I may be free and find mine..."
For more information on author J. Dean, please visit his blog at .com