II. THE UNTEMPERED SCHISM
Not even bothering to look back to see if the company was following, Liza moved swiftly down several corridors - most of which had long since seen their glory days – and steep staircases, moving deeper and deeper into the Citadel. Were they underground? wondered the Mechanic, this particular part of Gallifrey's Capitol completely alien to her.
Soon, however, the procession entered a large room which all would recognise; its rocky floor, dark walls and general melancholy feel was what all had faced just once in their lives, when they were very small and unprepared for the raw expanse of all Space and Time itself...
A few Time Lords scurried around the large portal-like device which, back when Liza herself was young, had shone with unimaginable power and yet now barely glinted. Liza didn't even flinch as she looked to it, the Untempered Schism, that tear in the fabric of reality that was known to drive men mad … and felt nothing. What did that mean? Was she mad already?
Just next to the Schism sat two factory-setting Battle TARDISes – armed, dimensionally transcendental timeships, their Chameleon Circuits currently disguising them as basic, bland-looking metallic cylinders, leaving the ships ready to adapt their physical form to the environment that they landed in once they'd left Gallifrey.
Silently, the Inquisitor turned to watch the sad ensemble whom had followed her down into the chamber – so… this was their last hope. May the Spirit of Rassilon have mercy on her race.
The Mechanic approached the TARDIS on the right, stepping over the threshold into the interior dimension, beginning to feel slightly nervous about the task at hand. The Warlord and the Crusader followed her inside, the blonde man taking up the rear.
"Good-o," the Warlord said, glancing to the Mechanic with an insincerely cheerful grin plastered on his face. "Time to see how good you are, then! My regular mechanic could probably do this if he were here so let's hope you are as good as he was, hm?"
Starting to pick apart the different sections of the ship's console, the Mechanic began to murmur to herself, "A Type 93 Mark II Battle TARDIS, fairly old at this point in time but still reliable, using a multi-phase aryonic engine and dynamorphic loop generator dematerialisation circuit, with a backup Verity N-type for the HADS in times of emergency." She looked up at the Warlord, making eye contact briefly. "That make me seem good enough yet? Or do you still want me gone?"
"You will seem good enough once you have gotten us through the Schism," the Warlord said, "A theoretical knowledge is fair but it is crunch time now. I don't object to your presence … I just prefer a crew I can trust."
"We should be able to leave soon enough," said the Mechanic. "Once everybody's on board and I tie the two ships together well enough, it shouldn't be too hard. Better than flying through a … a firestorm or something, at least."
The Crusader examined the Battle TARDIS' interior with a critical eye … the ship was up to her standards, at least, but she couldn't help doubting its ability to make it through the Untempered Schism intact.
A group of Time Lords were gathered around some equipment just a little way away from the Schism, flicking switches and pressing buttons, their eyebrows furrowed with intense concentration.
"How goes it?" asked Liza, intentionally informal, so as to lower the technicians' guard.
"Skittish," responded the Head Technician sharply, a burly dark man in tattered official décor. She raised an inquisitorial eyebrow at the brief explanation. "Well," he sounded nervous now, "There's enough power to send the TARDISes through, yes, but all information points to that being it. If you wanted to send a message through after the TARDISes, you won't be able to."
"Then I shall have to send the message now," she murmured, "Inconvenient though it is."
"Uh … we cannot record and send, ma'am," another technician piped up, "It has to go live."
The Lady President-elect rolled her eyes. "I presumed so," she said curtly, raising the microphone to her lips. The skeleton crew of technicians ran to their positions, hurriedly adjusting dials in preparation. A young Time Lady gave Liza the thumbs-up: go ahead.
Liza cleared her throat.
"This is Present-Elect Lizad'azailundar from the High Council of Gallifrey. Repeat: This is Present-Elect Lizad'azailundar from the High Council of Gallifrey. Contrary to what you may know or believe, Gallifrey lives! This is a live communication which, when your TARDIS picks it up, will be instantly recorded and stored. The Time Lords known as the Doctor and the Master are enemies to the Council, to the Planet, to your very selves – it is because of their actions both the Lord President Rassilon is dead and Gallifrey is locked out of time.
"We are sending a group of highly specialised agents through the Untempered Schism, as a last resort to apprehend both criminals and reopen the lock your home planet is captured within. Should you come across this group, make your allegiance known or run for your life – if you are against them, you are with the Doctor and the Master and thus enemies of Time. This will be my last and only contact until Gallifrey is freed. Good luck."
A junior technician gave Liza a wide smile. "Very good message, Madame President. Very commanding."
"I know," she responded coolly.
Inside the Battle TARDIS, the Mechanic looked up at the Warlord. She could tell he was thinking the same thing. "Wasn't that transmission sent to every single TARDIS outside the Lock? Including the Doctor and the Master's? If we've tipped them off with that message, how much worse is this mission going to be?" she asked, exasperated.
"Yes … both are resourceful. The best course by far would have been to take them by surprise, without giving them any sort of advantage. We are playing on their 'home field', after all," he murmured, his irritation at the Inquisitor's blunder showing.
In the corner of the ship's console room, the blonde man folded his arms, pursed his lips, and stayed silent.
The Crusader afforded a smile during the Inquisitor's inspiring speech. She expected most free Time Lords to be deserters and cowards, of course, but at least they knew where to stand now. Gallifrey would rise again, with or without them! She shook her head at the others, brushing the issue off. "You don't seem to realise that both renegades, cunning and devious as they are, are also likely too arrogant to take the threat seriously. I doubt this changes much."
"Is that everyone?" The Mechanic asked, ignoring The Crusader, sealing the doors and starting preparations for take-off. "Or are we expecting any more late additions?"
Liza strode into the small ship, looking around at the four Time Lords assembled, her eyes lingering for a moment on the blonde man. She put on a more authoritarian voice as she asked: "Well, are you going to head off or do you expect a day-long chat with your President-Elect?"
"Indeed. Can't let the pawns have all the fun," the Warlord said. He understood all this as a game, a game of chess, and he was determined to prove himself as the strongest piece. The most valuable. "Mechanic, are we ready?"
"Two minutes, approximately." The Mechanic answered, wiring two components together. "I just need to keep this link sustained, because otherwise we'll go one way and the other TARDIS will be flung the exact opposite, which would be a waste."
"Need a hand?" asked the Warlord, mockingly.
The Mechanic didn't look up, missing his mocking tone. "No… if I let you touch it I won't have any idea how you screwed up when I'd inevitably have to fix it later on. And I need to keep this straight in my head, what's linked to what, where each part leads, etcetera, so it's best if you don't. Touch it, that is."
Liza swivelled around, exiting the TARDIS and approaching the small crew of technicians again. "The Mechanic girl is saying they'll be ready within a few hundred rels."
"If they're ready to move within the next, ooh, six hundred rels we can let them through, after that I'm not so sure," said the Head Technician, his brow creased with worry as he spoke to the Lady President.
"They will be," said Liza, biting her lip worriedly.
The Crusader tapped her fingers impatiently on the console while the Mechanic worked, and glanced at the readings on the screen at regular intervals.
"We should be good to go..." The Mechanic said, connecting one last conduit. She stood up, quickly glancing over the monitors. "This is probably going to take all of us to work together to leave Gallifrey, at least." She said, taking up one of the console's sides. "After that, one pilot should be able to manage for basic systems, if I've wired it up correctly. These Battle TARDISes do tend to have overly complex systems."
The Warlord took the console's second side, to the left of The Mechanic, closest to the doors – the main navigation centre. The Captain's controls.
This didn't go unnoticed for The Crusader, who raised an eyebrow but said nothing. If the Warlord wished to instate himself as Captain of their little crew, he could do so freely. She wouldn't be following any orders, regardless.
As for her, she chose the scanning and communications panel. First, they'd need to react to anything unexpected with the utmost swiftness to make it out of the Time Lock alive. Then, if they wanted to find the Doctor and the Master, they'd need to follow the renegades' ever-so faint trail. In both cases, she trusted herself over anyone else for the task.
The Mechanic was already at the Mechanics panel, and flicked a switch, closing the TARDISes doors and sealing them off from the Technicians and Lady President-Elect outside in the Schism Chamber.
She looked up at the blonde man, who'd silently gravitated to the Diagnostics section and was now quietly flicking through the information on his personal monitor.
"Everyone good to go?" asked The Mechanic.
"The sooner, the better," the Crusader replied curtly. "According to the readings, the Schism is weak and fluctuating but still within expected parameters." She glanced to the Warlord: "It's now or never."
Wherever he intended to fly them, they had to dematerialise now if they were to make it out of the time lock alive.
The Warlord got to work without a word, and the twin timeships' engines initialised, the other TARDIS a slave to their own.
Outside, in the Schism Chamber, the Inquisitor stood back as the TARDISes hummed into life. She watched as one faded from view - the slave ship - reappearing inside its 'master' timeship, to be stored there until required. "May Rassilon guide you to your targets…" The Time Lady remarked grimly as the remaining Battle TARDIS began to build up power, a loud grating noise filling the room as the ship … no, not dematerialised, raised into the air, and began fading in and out of existence.
How did one gain entry to the Untempered Schism? Had they made an error in calculation? Was their last chance at salvation gone for good?
No.
Liza caught a momentary flash of light as the Battle TARDIS burst into life, hurtling past her, past the technicians, and through the gap in the fabric of reality, the ship's hold on its own position in reality faltering. It didn't look stable. It didn't look safe. But that didn't matter…
The ship had gone.
And, with that, the Untempered Schism died. True, it spluttered for a momentary second, sparked once more with a demented passion for life but then… nothing. Liza could see the room behind for once and her hearts suddenly fell. Truthfully, their last hope was now gone.
They were alone in their own dead, little bubble universe.
Would they succeed? She had had her unquestionable doubts since the moment they all gathered in the War Room, that was for sure. A sorry looking bunch if ever she saw one. Incapable, definitely, but …
"No," she murmured softly to herself, making her decision. "They must succeed. Gallifrey will live."
This fic is somewhat based upon DWRP Forum's "The New Gallifreyan Avengers" thread. Substantial credit goes to Terrance Sigma, Lord Garnetto, AkibaSilver and The Daleks' Advocate for the creation of some of the characters featured in this story.
