Author's Note: The Patrex House is notable for their advanced telepathic abilities. (Prydonians are notable for their skill at languages. Arcalians are notable for their skill in temporal technology.) Also:

The Doctor: "Well, my immediate plans are to expose you as an impostor."

The Master: "That would be very foolish of you. My credentials are immaculate."

The Doctor: "Forged, of course."

The Master: "Of course. But, immaculate. May I see your credentials, Doctor?"

The Doctor: "Don't be absurd."

The Master: "What? No interplanetary travel permit? No registration for your TARDIS? No personal identification?"

~Colony in Space: Part 4

Disclaimer: I can only claim Irin as mine. Everything else is, sadly, not mine.


Mutually Assured Destruction

Koschei was free. Free from the Academy at last. All that was left was the Naming and then the Graduation ceremony. Finally. He was over all the students and their petty squabbles and the professors and their pomposity. He was ready to face the universe and show it what he was made of.

Unfortunately, freed from his responsibilities, he had nothing to distract him. Theta was holed up in his room, studying his brains out. Koschei had a feeling his exams had not been going well of late. Theta was supposed to have taken the final examination, but he'd said nothing about it. So perhaps he had not taken it yet, after all. Or he had and he was hiding in shame at his poor performance. Koschei's lips twisted into a smile. That could be it.

So, without academics and without Theta to help him cause havoc, Koschei had but one thing on his mind. That incessant tapping. The drumming noise that he'd carried with him all his life. It was just a quiet presence, always there, rhythmic like the beating of his hearts. Perhaps that was all it was: his hearing was over-keen and catching the sound of his hearts pumping blood.

Thump thump thump thump.

Thump thump thump thump.

Except, Koschei had a problem with his own theory. The sound wasn't organic. It was very pointed, very clear.

Taptaptap, tap.

Tap tap tap. Tap.

One.

Two.

Three.

FOUR.

Koschei caught himself knocking his knuckles against the wall. He grimaced and prowled down the corridor. Distraction, distraction, he needed some kind of distraction. He passed by one of the art rooms and paused. The room was darkened, empty. Wait, that wasn't quite true. There was an ultraviolet lamp on in the back. Someone was doing some kind of artistic experiment involving light wavelengths and… Well, he couldn't quite tell what. But this could prove fun. He stole into the room, carefully measuring his steps so as not to make a sound. As he got closer, he realized that he recognized the unsuspecting Patrex. It was that girl who had helped him out with his stasis cube art hassle. The one to whom Theta had lent his stolen—ahem, borrowed—book. The one he had shared Advanced Telepathy with. Trithirin. He was right behind her now, ready to give her the fright of her life.

"When you sneak up on someone," she drawled, "don't forget to mask your telepathic signature."

Koschei was taken aback. "How long did you know?"

"Since you came in the room."

Koschei made a face. Shown up by a girl. How pathetic. He leaned on the counter, eying her project closely.

"What've we got here?" he asked, his voice dripping with false charm. "Looks quite interesting."

"Shove off," Irin said without malice. "Don't you have someone else to annoy?"

Koschei deliberated on how he wanted to respond to that. "Perhaps, but I'd much rather annoy you." He grinned. "So, what are you working on?"

Irin hesitated. "I'm…experimenting."

"Yes," Koschei said slowly, as though to a child, "I can see that."

"You asked."

"I expected an intelligent answer. Perhaps I was expecting too much from a Patrex."

Irin slapped him hard. He pulled back, his hand cradling his cheek, nothing but shock on his face. No one had ever dared to strike him before. He couldn't say he liked the sharp sensation of pain. But he had to concede that it had taken him by surprise. He had not expected such a quick temper from one of the artsy-writing types. From one of his fellow Prydonians, yes; not from her. He liked her spirit.

"Touché," he said, still rubbing his cheek gently.

"I shouldn't have hit you," Irin said at length, her eyes never leaving her work. "That was unbecoming of a Time Lord. I—"

"You lost your temper." He shrugged, the corners of his lips turning up. "Color me surprised."

She said nothing more and he lapsed into silence, watching her bathe her 'experiment' in ultraviolet light and chemicals of various sorts. The process was actually quite fascinating. Whatever she was doing, it was obviously not something taught as a regular part of any class.

"Stop it," Irin commanded about ten minutes later.

Koschei frowned. "Stop what?"

He genuinely had no idea what he'd done now. Which was odd. He always knew when he'd done something wrong. These days, bored out of his mind now that classes were over for him, he relished the trouble. It gave him a distraction. And it was generally just plain fun.

Now it was Irin's turn to smile. "You're thinking too loud."

Koschei chuckled. "Look, am I ever going to find out what you're doing?"

"Will you go away if I tell you?"

He considered the question. "Perhaps. But remember, my dear, you did slap me. I could always complain…"

Irin sighed in defeat. "I could always deny it," she said half-heartedly.

"And draw attention to yourself with an inquest into the matter? I don't think so." His smile turned predatory. He had her there. She would never want to be spotlighted for rule-breaking.

"Fine," she all but growled. "I'm…making my own official documents. Or, trying to see if I can."

Koschei's whole countenance lit up. That was priceless. She was forging documents? For fun? He had always wanted to try his hand at something of that nature, just for the challenge.

"Are you getting anywhere with it?" he asked, not bothering to disguise his interest.

Irin stared at him. "You're not going to turn me in?"

Koschei raised his hands, palm up. "For what? Creating art?"

Irin regarded him levelly, with shrewd eyes, obviously trying to ascertain whether she could—or should—trust him. Koschei smiled his most charming, disarming smile. He did his level best to exude charm and trustworthiness. He put a hand on her shoulder.

"I'd like to put myself under your tutelage—for the sake of gaining knowledge in an academic sense, of course."

Irin seemed about to falter. Then she shrugged him off. "You're good. You're very good."

She regarded Koschei with a new interest. Dare he say it: she appeared to have gained a level of respect?

"Does that mean I don't have to go to the Patrex Chapter Head…?"

Her eyes narrowed. "You may be almost through with the Academy, but that doesn't mean you're untouchable. Remember that."

He laughed. "What could you possibly have on me?"

Irin smiled prettily, but her eyes remained cold. "You might be surprised."

Then she proceeded to walk him through the processes she had already played with. She knew her stuff, Koschei had to grant that much. She might have her uses, after all…