Diplomatic Detente

Ozma and the Doctor walked down le Champs Elysees, passing vendors, entertainers, and artists hard at work peddling their wares. Along this boulevard were famed cafes and bistros, restaurants and galleries, clothing stores and boutiques, and there, beyond the walkway was the Seine, and towering in the distance was the Arc de Triumphe. Ozma, for her part, was beside herself, here in the city of love. She had always wanted to come here, always wanted to gaze upon this ancient city. They passed musicians strumming guitars, mandolins, and playing violins, and singing. Upon one corner there was an accordion player lacking in talent. A woman was singing along next to him, her voice immensely better, a group of tourists flocking to hear her in spite of the lousy accordion accompaniment.

"En la coeur du Paris,

Je vie.

Dans les rues de Paris,

J'adore.

Je vie en le coeur de le coeur de le monde.

O Paris, ma Paris,

Je t'aime."

The Doctor watched her with wonder. "Marvelous," he said. "You humans have such an imaginative flair."

The woman singing shot a brief, murderous look at the accordion player, resumed her cheerful demeanor and continued her performance. It must have been her husband, otherwise she likely wouldn't have put up with him. The Doctor pulled a device from his coat. It was a simple fob watch set into a series of springs that connected to a tuning fork. Ozma realized that it was something the Doctor had put together in his spare time and asked what it was for.

"This?" The Doctor looked down at the device, and back to her. "This, my dear, helps me to detect chronons."

"Chronons?"

"The most common particle of time travel. Anyone who travels through time, even just a few seconds, becomes permanently infused with chronon particles. It is a very subtle, imperceptible change in your basic nature. It's quite harmless, but beings that are attuned to such things will forever recognize you as a time traveler once you have been exposed to chronons."

"Have I been?"

"Certainly. We may not have traveled through time, but my ship is the ultimate expression of time. Think on it. It is bigger on the inside than out. Is not the simple act of passing through the door an experience of passing through manipulated time?"

Ozma nodded, then looked back to the device. "How does it work?"

"Hmm?" The Doctor held the device up. "I point the device away from us to avoid a false reading. When chronons interact with it, the tuning bar resonates, and the springs vibrate accordingly. The fob watch, being of Gallifrey manufacture, responds to the vibrations and becomes confused. It literally reads other times. The stronger the effect, the closer we are to the source."

The tuning fork began to whine and the Doctor, taking his attention from the attractions of the Champs Elysees, followed the intensity of the intonation. Soon enough they passed the Arc de Triumphe, and found themselves wandering the streets of Paris, eventually finding themselves in rather questionable areas. It seemed strange that the glamorous Rani could found in such blighted areas. Not paying real attention to where their device was taking them, the found themselves at a police station, "Surete" stenciled in black letters above the otherwise ordinary doorway. In fact, it might have been any apartment, but when they entered, they found themselves in a typical office with a single desk and officer behind.

"Oui, monsieur et ma'amselle?" he asked without looking up from his gazette. The Doctor didn't seem to hear him. He followed the whine to a locked door. The officer spoke again, bemused. "Monsieur, q'est-ce que c'est?"

The Doctor turned and absent-mindedly asked, "I'm sorry, my mind must be elsewhere. Did you say something?"

If the officer was perturbed to have to speak English, he didn't show it. In fact, to Ozma, he seemed to be speaking with a Japanese accent when he said, "Sir, what can I do for you?"

"Indeed. I am searching for a very dangerous woman. She has been killing people by poisoning their makeup with...ahh...a certain type of radioactive isotope. This device-I made it in a bit of a hurry, mind you-is designed to home in on that particular isotope. It is through this door. I'm quite certain of it."

The officer looked suspiciously at the Doctor. He was clearly incredulous, but he had heard something like this before. "How do you know you are following the right trail?"

"This isotope is extremely rare. It can only exist in a handful of places, and certainly not in populated city."

The officer didn't seem to be buying it. It was amazing he hadn't already chucked them both out as crackpots. Still, he continued to humor the Doctor. "What is this killer's name?"

"She calls herself the Rani."

The officer blinked in mild surprise. Yes, he had heard this before. He picked up his phone and dialed two digits. He explained everything the Doctor said. While he spoke, Ozma went to the Doctor and spoke in undertones.

"Doctor, how come he is speaking English with a Japanese accent?"

The Doctor said, "My dear, he is not speaking English at all. He is speaking French. It is an effect of my ship. It helps us all to understand one another."

"Then why have I only been hearing French up until now, and why don't I just hear Japanese?"

The Doctor smiled. "My dear, you hear French because that is what you want to hear. You hear English instead of Japanese because you deem English more important."

"More important?"

"Ozma, you were raised speaking your native tongue, but unless I am very much mistaken, your country impresses the need to learn English a great deal, your father, being a diplomat even more so, because your people believe the language to be crucial to commerce with the rest of the world. You deem English more important because you have been raised with a sense of diplomacy and English is the most commonly spoken language in the diplomatic and financial world. There's a very strong chance our friend here speaks English."

The Doctor gestured to the officer. At that moment, the officer put down the phone and told them. "Detective Beart wants to speak to you. Go on through and wait for him in the chairs next to the door."

The officer pressed a button next to him and a loud buzzer sounded. The Doctor and Ozma pushed their way through the door, which closed behind them with a loud click. They found themselves in a hallway, three doors lining one side and the single door on the other side. Harsh fluorescent lights glared above them and ordinary white linoleum tiled the floor. Next to the buzzer door, there was a row of hard wooden folding chairs by the door. They opted to stand. Fortunately, they did not wait long. A rotund man in a suit exited the last door wearing a brown, pinstriped, three piece suit with the jacket unbuttoned. He had a large red nose and a receding hairline.

He introduced himself as Detective Jean-Paul Beart. "I understand you have may have some information regarding a case I am working on."

"Yes, I am the Doctor, and this is my assistant, Ozma. I assume you are investigating a rash of mysterious deaths."

Beart eyed them suspiciously and in a bored tone, he said, "In a manner of speaking. Another department is handling that, but I have been made to question witnesses that are obviously crackpots, in particular, a young foreign girl who was at the scene of one of the deaths. She was dismissed days ago, deemed not credible, but she has made herself a nuisance to the department, and I have been assigned to have a psychiatrist evaluate her. We were going to commit her, but it has proven difficult. She seems to be mentally sound and is not a threat to anyone. Now, it seems you are corroborating her story. Obviously, I find this annoying and absurd, but I must check it."

So the Doctor and Ozma, without giving too many details, told them what had happened in England, making it clear that Rani had made her culpability well known.

"Merde..." said Detective Beart. "Come with me." As they walked, he explained that this was not a proper department. "This is just a simple office where we can take local complaints, and respond quickly to local calls. We have two holding cells downstairs, but they are never occupied for longer than it takes to transfer a suspect to the city jail's holding cells. We have no dangerous criminals being processed here so there is nothing for you to concern yourselves over."

He led them to a small room where a stunningly beautiful young woman was waiting patiently. Ozma looked and recognized none of the clothes she was wearing, though they all appeared to be in Dior's style. Detective Beart confirmed it when he said, "This is Carla Rimbaldo, a fashion model working for Christian Dior when she saw a co-worker fall dead." He turned to her. "You are in luck. These two seem to be saying the same absurdities. The surete might now take you seriously. Please, you seem such a nice young girl. Forget this before your insistence causes you any more trouble."

The Doctor said, "Please, may we talk to her."

"I am going to take your statement."

The Doctor smiled. "I have known Rani for a very long time. I can assure you, she will not be outwitted by police. She is a genius and a mad scientist and has more escape routes than you can fathom. Please let me speak to her. I know what I am looking for." Beart sighed and gestured to Carla. The Doctor introduced himself and Ozma, and Carla stood and observed her closely.

She said, "I've been trying to save up for that outfit for months." Ozma decided that Carla must have been speaking English because she had a thick Italian accent.

Ozma shook her head. "You're a model. Can't you just-"

"If Dior made that dress and shirt, I could, but he doesn't and I don't work for Versace, but I might later. By then, who knows. After this, I might be just happy to get any work I can find. Is that a real Chanel handbag?"

"I have four of them. Help us out and you can have this one."

Carla's eyes widened. "Oh, I couldn't."

"I have a closet full of purses. Dad always gets me one for my birthday. Gucci, Givenchy, Prada...Trust me. I won't miss this one."

The Doctor said, "Oh, time enough for this later. Please, I need to know what the Rani did. How did that young girl die, and what did the Rani have to do with it?"

Carla told them of the fashion show and the Rani's predatory way of addressing people. This hadn't surprised the Doctor, as he had seen the same smile from Rani on many occasions. When she told them of the Rani's reaction to Jennifer Thilmony's death, the Doctor nodded as if he were noting the peculiar effect of a lab experiment. "Naturally," said Carla, "I cleaned the makeup off my face as soon as I could. They said there was nothing wrong with the makeup. How could that be? If you had seen through my eyes, you would not think the makeup was normal. The last day of the show, they said I had to wear the makeup. I said I would not and they did not argue. I walked on the runway without makeup and Gianni Versace asked about me. Three nights in a row. I was a hit. I do not need that woman's makeup. When the party ended, Rani, she came to me and she said she would...wrap? Wreck? Ruin! She said she would ruin me if I told anyone about my eyes. Nobody takes me seriously. I do not imagine this! So now is the first time I tell anyone how the makeup made me see things I never saw before."

The Doctor said, "Well, I think you will find that if your family has a history of poor eyesight, you no longer have to worry about it. The substance makeup heals unhealthy tissue and destroys healthy tissue."

"Absurd," said Beart.

"My good man, what do you have against the idea of a megalomaniac selling a product that perniciously kills anyone that uses it? Consumer goods deliberately contaminated? Surely it's happened before. Why can't it happen now?"

"We tested the makeup. Everything in it was harmless."

The Doctor scoffed. "You can't have tested it to thoroughly. You would have found at least one substance that you cannot identify."

"It didn't conform to any known harmful contaminants."

"Check more thoroughly and you will find that it conforms to nothing on Earth."

"What do you mean? Little green men are killing women with tainted makeup."

The Doctor decided not to tell this man the truth about the velletigen or about his origins. He came up with a simpler explanation for where the Rani came from. "No. I am telling you that the Rani is a genius, a mad scientist that believes she is destined to be a god. She believes she can achieve immortality."

"That's insane!"

"I suppose that depends on how brilliant she is, but I would tend to agree with you."

Beart pounded the wall and said, "I mean you! You are casting these absurd accusations and flouting these ridiculous theories about a woman you have never even met."

The Doctor appeared taken aback. "Never even met? Detective, I grew up with her. I went to school with her. We were almost...we were very close. I assure you, she values only power and life has no value to her. She will take what she wants, whatever the cost, without conscience. Besides which, she has already tried to recruit me in this scheme."

Beart waved his hand in dismissal. "Rubbish, you will say anything to be believed."

The Doctor drew himself up. "So be it. I do not need your help. I can find the Rani on my own."

"No, you will all be staying here. It's clear to me now that you are all a danger to this woman, who does not need problems with stalkers and harassment. You are all detained on charges of obstruction and will be held for full mental evaluation."

Ozma opened her purse and drew out a wallet, which she pulled a folded card from. "You do not have the authority. My father has business dealings in southern France and I am authorized to go here."

The Doctor said, "I thought you said you have never been here."

As Beart took the card and examined it, Ozma crossed her arms and said, "I haven't, but my father travels all over Europe. He got papers for me, too."

Beart's face turned red, "Diplomatic immunity? But...that is..." He stalked over to a desk and picked up the telephone receiver. He looked on the card and dialed a telephone number. After a moment, he said, "Yes, Paris, France. I need to confirm the information on an I. D. card." After another moment, Beart recited Ozma's full name, her vital statistics and the card's number. His face became an emotionless mask. "She is? I see. Yes. I see. She can." He hung up the phone. He turned to Ozma and said, "I suppose this Doctor is part of your envoy while traveling in our country."

Ozma, quite proud of herself, said, "He is. I would also like Carla Rimbaldo to join my envoy."

"Which would extend your immunity to both of them." Beart leaned with his fists against the top of his desk. "Very well. I cannot arrest you, but be very careful. Just because I cannot arrest you does not mean that I cannot eject you. We will be watching and if you cause any trouble, consider yourselves ejected." He put a nasty emphasis on the last word. "Now, get out. All of you. Allons!"

As they exited the building together, Carla said, "Thank you, both. I didn't think they'd ever let me go."

Ozma said, "A bunch of bullies. Imagine punishing people just for telling the truth."

The Doctor said, "An excellent use of resources, though detente usually isn't supposed to result in aggravating the local law enforcement officers."

"Well then, call it gunboat diplomacy." Ozma stopped once she reached the sidewalk. "Exactly what did we accomplish here, Doctor? We still have no idea where the Rani will be, and what about the Master?"

"We will simply have to keep searching."

Carla said, "But Rani has an office just down the street from here."

The Doctor turned in surprise. "She does? Oh, dear. She may have another source!"

"I can show you the way."

"I've had an idea. I may have a way of forcing the Rani's hand, but I'll need to gather some materials. We need to go back to the ship first."

Fusion

The Doctor only spent a few minutes at the time ship. Carla was not allowed in, leaving Ozma to explain that the Doctor was very secretive. He emerged from the base of the Joan of Arc statue and announced that he was ready. They didn't have far to go as Eden's Parisian office was on this side of the Champs Elysees. Just as the English office had been, this one was quite large and located in a business district. There was stencil upon the door reading "Eden" with no other information, not even an address. They tried the door and found that it was locked.

The Doctor massaged his temples and said, "I really had no desire to use this...device, but I suppose the situation calls. Very well." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out an object like a large pen. He held the end to the door lock and there was high pitched sound followed by a click. The Doctor put the device away and pushed the door open. "There we are. Easy as."

"What was that?" asked Ozma.

"Oh, a simple tool. It creates sonic resonance that, if set to the proper frequency, can cause a vibration in virtually any device with moving components. I try not to use it. It eliminates a great deal of challenge. It's as if I'm cheating."

The building didn't have an alarm, which seemed odd for a business, but there was nothing there except a desk covered with dust. The room was also covered in a thick padded carpet that had become discolored from the dust. The sun had fallen low and now shined directly in through the windows. There were imprints upon the carpets, spaced as foot prints, but they looked odd until all three of them realized that the foot prints, a large triangle and a tiny circle, were from high heels. They followed the footprints to a metal door. Opening it, they found themselves in a concrete stairwell. No dust, no footprints. Stairs lead up for four stories, but they led down for what seemed three times that far.

"What building needs to be excavated so deeply?" asked the Doctor. He once more took his makeshift chronon detector from his pocket and followed the intensity of the whine. "Down we go."

After going down four flights, the chronon detector seemed to weaken as they approached the fifth flight, so the Doctor exited on this level. Carla stopped and took her shoes off, which were high heel, and muttered that her feet were killing her.

The Doctor said, "Perhaps next time you'll wear something a bit more practical."

Now, they all took in their surroundings and to say that the corridor they were in was long was an understatement. "Look at how far it goes," said Ozma.

"Curious." The Doctor held the front of his chin, deep in thought. "From I've noted, the Rani has a rather small operation, but why then does she need such large facilities and I believe that she has indicated that her facilities aren't large enough?" They walked down the corridor, looking into random rooms. "Just as in her other facility. This is mostly empty offices. Yet she claims her buildings are too small." Then the Doctor stopped as if something had just occurred to him. "And in the previous building, there seemed the beginnings of underground passages, and this building has clearly been excavated some distance underground."

"Doctor!" Ozma called.

The Doctor and Carla both turned, not having realized that Ozma had fallen behind. She was staring into one of the offices.

"You should see this."

All three ventured into a room significantly larger than the other offices. This was a storage room and was filled with nearly a hundred boxes, all of them six feet long and two feet wide. They were white with labels that read, "Eden Cosmetics, Security Department."

"I wonder what's in here," said Ozma.

Carla was wide-eyed, unsettled. "They look like coffins."

They approached a container that had been left on floor. The each tried to open it, but it was sealed. Ozma found catches on one side and unlocked it. It opened on hinges. What they saw inside chilled each of them.

"Jennifer," Carla gasped, horrified.

Indeed, inside the container was a young girl about Carla's age, her eyes closed with a smattering of freckles on her cheeks and across her nose. Carla remembered how Jennifer's face had been absolutely covered with freckles. Now, she was the exact image that Rani had left her, only a few freckles, "strategically placed," and she was still quite dead. She was even wearing the outfit for the fashion show. Carla impulsively reached down and held Jennifer's hand, a young girl that she had only known a few minutes and exchanged a few words with. She had had such a profound impact on Carla, that she felt as if this was her dearest friend. The hand was colder than any living hand, but it wasn't stiff. If Jennifer was dead, her hand should be stiff.

As if reading Carla's mind, the Doctor said, "Forever frozen at the exact moment of death. Frozen in time. Not even the sun's eventual expansion and incineration of this planet will harm her. She is truly incorruptible." He looked around the room. "They all are."

"Eternally frozen and eternally beautiful."

The Doctor, Ozma, and Carla turned at the sound of the voice. The Rani was there with a team of security guards. The Doctor didn't seem surprised, but his anger was apparent.

He took a step forward, ignoring the guard's reactions. "Frozen between life and death, with no hope of release, a sort of limbo. I see it now. You use their life essences to give you and the Master eternal life, and your victims serve as an invincible army of soulless automatons. You don't need many. Trapped in time, they are quite indestructible. A hundred or so is all you need. All of your victims."

"Thousands actually. Those mysterious deaths only started being tallied when coroners began to realize there was a pattern, but Doctor, I've been doing this for years, and before then, I perfected the technique on other worlds across time, and I built an army for Gallifrey. Lord Rassilon was most pleased, but sadly, he died shortly after, or so the rumors say. You really should have stuck around. A lot of very interesting things happened after you left. Rassilon built his tomb in the Death Zone and disappeared there. He always was a bit macabre."

The Rani walked over to the casket, drawing a dagger and turned to face the three again. "You should have accepted my offer, Doctor. With my genius, I'm sure I could have discovered a way to break the Pythia's curse. Imagine: children born the natural way, no more looms."

The Doctor raised a single finger, a shrewd smile gradually turning upon his lips. "You've been banished, haven't you?"

The Rani's face soured. "You would have been pleased. The Lord President spent much of the hearing questioning my ethics. He seemed to think my experiments were immoral. I don't actually know what my punishment was. I didn't stay long enough to find out. I left in rather a hurry."

"What exactly did you do?"

"It's none of your concern."

"It must have been embarrassing."

"Nothing that warranted such judgment from the Time Council. I just used a growth hormone on some rats. I didn't think it would work so well, and I certainly didn't think one of my rivals would set them loose." The Rani clenched her fists. "Enough! You're trying to create a diversion." She raised her dagger and plunged it into Jennifer's chest. "Indestructible, just as you say."

To everyone's horror, including the guards, Jennifer stood. Her eyes opened, but they were as unseeing as death. She looked down at her chest in confusion and pulled the dagger from her chest. Blood oozed from the wound but stopped quickly, and mere seconds later, it had completely sealed. It seemed that the moment Rani stabbed Jennifer, a switch had been thrown. The other coffins began to shake violently. The guards ran first. The Doctor grabbed Ozma and Carla, who were paralyzed with fear, under the arms and dragged them bodily from the room.

The Rani called after them, "You should have accepted my offer, Doctor! We could have been husband and wife, Gods of Time. Too late, Doctor! Too late!"

Once they had put some distance between them and the Rani's army, Ozma said, "Am I imagining things or did that woman just conjure an army of zombies?"

The Doctor said, "They are a type of chronovore. The Rani used the velletigen, the only physical substance of time, in her makeup. In other words, those girls were killed with time itself. They're completely gone; dead, beyond hope, but the bodies and what remains of the mind is frozen in that place between life and death. An new, primitive consciousness, cobbled together from the body's natural instinct and the remnants of their living mind arises, but one that is so rudimentary, it can only comprehend its most basic needs, and they need a steady flow of energy from time to survive."

"They feed on time?" asked Carla, bewildered. "How?"

"Every living thing, you, me, Ozma, the guards, we exist in time. Time flows around us. I travel through time, so the energies of time flow quite a bit more abundantly around me. If one of us were to die prematurely, the time around us would have to compensate its flow. Instead of righting itself, these girls would consume it, and in doing so, maintain their strength."

Ozma said, "They're like vampires, not zombies."

"Vampires are a fair comparison except that they can think for themselves. I'm not sure what zombies are."

Ozma pointed down the corridor and everyone turned to see a group of the chronivorous girls come around the corner.

The Doctor said, "Ozma, you seem surprisingly calm."

"I'm being chased by a group of fashion forward vampires who want to suck the life out of me. It's just like high school."

They all ran and were soon stopped by two guards holding M1 carbines to them. One of the creatures burst from a side door and attacked the guards. One opened fire on her, but she didn't even seem to notice the softball sized holes that were being shot in her, and were healing instantly. She wrapped her arms around one of the guards. This seemed to be all that was necessary to make him seemingly dissolve into nothing, screaming in obvious pain. Seconds later, the other guard, now out of ammunition, met the same fate. The Doctor, Ozma, and Carla darted around her and continued running.

"How did they get throughout the building so quickly?" asked Carla.

Ozma said, "There had to be more than one storage room full of them. They must be everywhere."

The Doctor said, "Now I understand why they need so much space. Put them in close quarters and they may feed off each other. They couldn't each others, but they could weaken some of their numbers. Now that they've been awakened, they'll need each room."

"How is the Rani controlling them?"

The Doctor laughed. "Isn't that obvious? She's a Time Lord! She has an endless supply of chronons to feed them and assure their obedience."

They finally found a set of steel double doors at the end of a passage. Walking through, they found themselves in a lab virtually identical to the one that the Doctor found in England, except much bigger and in a pit with a cylinder that contained what could only have been a velletigen source, a power plant channeling enough energy for the looms of Gallifrey. Turning, as if he had just noticed them was the Master. Flanking him on either side were two of Rani's makeup victims...chronovores, as the Doctor called them. One of them was Jennifer.

The chronovores moved to attack, but the Master said, "Now, now; none of that." He held up a small cylindrical tube and pressed something on the side. A vapor rose into the air and was drawn to the chronovores. Both of them stopped, looks of ecstasy washing over them.

Carla held her hand out as if to touch Jennifer. The Master said, "Oh, I wouldn't do that. Now that she's active, she'll absorb you, utterly." Carla pulled her hand back. The Master turned to the Doctor. "Of course, my old friend, it's perfectly safe for us. We are Time Lords, after all."

"Ah," said the Doctor, "but you seem to have no time spare. You wouldn't want to lose what precious little you have left on these poor creatures that are little more than automatons."

"Ah, but thanks to these poor creatures, I shall have the secret of immortality. We have found that as chronovores, they provide unlimited vitality. I could restore all of my regenerations, and have as many more as I like."

The Rani entered from another door, more girls guarding her. "Just think, Doctor. We'll conquer the world and become truly immortal. We'll rule as gods and expand across the universe. One day, Gallifrey could fall before us. This is your last chance, Doctor. Join us. Even these two you're running around with; they're more clever than typical humans. Carla saw me for what I was right away." She addressed Carla and Ozma. "Think on it, girls. You could live forever, as beautiful as you are now. Ozma, you've nearly turned meta-crisis. You're already primed to become one of us."

The Doctor said, "It seems that the Rani now believes her own press releases. Dear me, what will become of Eden." As he spoke, the Doctor slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small metal square. Contained with the square was two glass tubes, the device having been designed to hold volatile materials. "I would never participate in any activity that murders people and enslaves their bodies." He held up the container. "Which is why I've brought chronons and rassilonion from my ship." The chronovores swirled with chronons, but they were no threat to the velletigen. It was the contained chronons and rassilonion that would do the job.

The Master stepped forward. "Don't be a fool. What you are threatening isn't the same as simply cutting power to the velletigen core. You're talking about reuniting the velletigen with the chronon time particle and the rassilonion time ion. The explosion will be felt in this dimension too."

Carla said, with a surprising amount of anger in her voice. "Yes, and we'll die making sure nobody else has to end up...like this." She gestured at Jennifer. "Please Jennifer. Something of you has to be left in there. Please help us. Look what they've done to you. Do you really want to help them?"

"Silence, girl," said the Master. "There's nothing left to hear you. You may as well appeal to a brick wall for all the good it will do."

The Rani turned to the Doctor. "You can join us and become a god, or you can use your trinket and we can all die together."

The Doctor kept his eyes trained on the Master and the Rani. "Yes, if I release these, the core will explode and lives will be saved. I suppose that makes my choice rather straight forward." The Doctor opened the catch release and threw the container directly into the core. It shattered on impact. Seconds later, the core cracked.