A/N: Have you ever had a chapter challenge you so hard that it beat you mercilessly about the head until you were a weeping mess on the ground?

I got pretty close on this one.

I couldn't seem to get it right ... at all ... so much of this was dumped off and then rewritten and then dumped off and then revised again... and I'm still not particularly thrilled with the final outcome ... But I can't do it anymore.

I needed Trapp to have a couple of allies on Gallifrey, so here they be... So not much with Rose and the Doctor (although the Doctor does show up toward the end) ... I hope you enjoy.

~~oooOOOooo~~

He didn't require any form of intricate telepathic bond for him to know that his capsule was upset. There didn't need to be any telepathic voices or words shared across their link for him to know that the term "upset" was a wild understatement to the current mood that Tedendugalia was in. If the sparks that were currently raining down from the console room ceiling were any indication, Teden was about a single tendril of the transdimensional time spiral away from a full-on Pundeharhiran temper meltdown, and he was making damn sure that his pilot was fully aware of it.

…Couldn't it be considered completely and beautifully ironic that Trapp that had actually briefly touched upon the subject of a Pundeharhiran temper tantrum, oh, less than thirty minutes ago with Rose Tyler?

"Regenerate," he muttered to himself as he dodged an angry spit of sparks that launched up from the very edges of the Helmic Orientator every time he attempted to use the slide device to attempt to input some flight coordinates. "That's what I told her I'd choose if I was ever faced with a horrendous event in time and space such as a Capsule in tantrum mode. She asked and I told her I'd rather regenerate."

There was a horrendous screech from beneath the console room itself that immediately set Trapp's teeth on edge. The room pitched to one side, and the Time Lord stumbled gracelessly against a railed barrier that surrounded the console itself.

His lips curled with annoyance of his own at the behaviour of his ship. "Really?" he snarled at the Time Rotor column. "You're going to do this? Now? Without even asking me just where I actually intend on taking us and what I intend to do first. You're just going to assume that I'm abandoning the two of them back there."

The room stopped shuddering and the rain of sparks slowed somewhat. Trapp pulled himself into a stand and glared a stare of fury into the twisting amber artron energies that ran through the rotor column. His mind's eye gave him the image of Teden's sentient body in an indignant slouch with a heaving chest and curled lip of impatience as he waited for clarification. His voice was level and his tone unimpressed when he finally spoke.

"If my intention was to immediately return to Gallifrey, then I would've input those coordinates in the nav computer before dematerialization … Like. I. Normally. Do … and not just have you fly up into the vortex."

He slapped his hand hard against the rotor column. "Think, you gigantic lump of temporal transdimensional petulance. I've got a youngling in distress and a Time Lady who's quite obviously in danger. Do you believe for a second that I'd leave either of them without some form of protection?"

He waited a moment with only the whining push and pull sound of the ship's engines to fill the void between them, and then blew out a breath and relaxed his stature a little. His voice softened ever slightly.

"I'm as worried as you are, Teden." He let out a breath. "But there's really little that we can do unless she specifically requests help." There was a grumbled whisper of annoyance and argument that shot by his left ear, and Trapp let out a short laugh. "Well. There is that, but if you want to keep little Pendra on your radar, then that might not be the best course of action. Although I do have to admire your enthusiasm."

Trapp smiled at the continued grumbling of his craft and leaned forward over the console to thumb a pair of switches seated underneath the main arm that held the monitor in place. He lifted his chin as the monitor brightened to a brilliant green. A circular symbol spun lazily at the centre of the screen, and a short series of beeps trilled out of the small elongated speaker that formed a cat's eye visage underneath.

After a moment, a humanoid figure appeared on the screen. She was quite obviously female with a slightly buxom bosom wrangled underneath the two-toned heliotrope tunic worn by the inducted members of the Patrex chapter. She had light makeup contouring her pale features, her hair was pulled back into a high bun ... and she wore a very unimpressed expression on her face.

"Gallifrey Traffic Control," she droned along an autonomous breath without looking up from her keyboard. "Please state your flight plan and approval number and await materialization instructions."

Trapp grinned into the camera as he leaned his forearms down on the console's edge in a lazy slouch. "Trappulleskestrupipusikontam of the Arcalian Chapter requesting deviation in originally registered flight plan."

There was a brief twitch on the woman's face, but she didn't look up from her keyboard. Her voice was slightly humoured, although she made every effort to remain as cool and detached as she could. "Lord Trappulleskestrupipusikontam. I don't believe Gallifrey Traffic Control has ever had the fortune of you being able to stick to your original flight plans."

"Such is the curse of holding the lead position out of the dockyards, I'm afraid."

"Your interstitial beacon is broadcasting your presence outside of N-Space, with a locked position within a parallel time vortex funnel." Her eyes finally lifted to offer a green glint of amusement across the communications line. "I believe you've already deviated from your original flight plan of a 'hop, skip, jump across Kasterborous and back'."

"Lady Celestialutherinyaparan," he greeted with a smile. "If you will refer to the additional notes associated with my flight plan you will note that my capsule was called off course by a distress beacon in parallel 110-25b-654-1-00. I believe the modification to the plan indicated that my hopping, skipping and jumping would receive an additional waltz toward Mutter's Spiral."

Her eyes dropped from the camera, but her smile didn't fall. "Will you be escort to the distressed capsule, Lord Trapp? Shall I notify the black hole shipyard of an incoming repair?"

He let out a sharp laugh of victory. "Thirty seven seconds – a new record!"

Her eyes and her mouth were gaped as she lifted her head. "Oh no no. No, Trapp. That was not a victory, I didn't deviate at all…"

"You failed to use my full name," he corrected with a shake of his head and a light clicking of his tongue. "Mandatory communications ethic under Traffic Control protocols. You may deny it, Celest, but there's the proof that my handsome face does distract you."

Her expression fell. "I hate you."

"I'm sure there's more love than hate in there, my Lady," he corrected with a wink.

"Absolutely not," she answered with a grumble and a petulant fold of her arms across her chest. "Now, how about we drop the formalities and you tell me why you're really contacting Traffic Control." She released the fold of her arms leaned her elbows on the desk in front of her. "You know that you're exempt from having to seek authorization from Control when you're responding to a distress beacon."

"I need you to access the registry," he answered quickly. "And forward to my capsule the communication codes to reach the Time Lord Doctor."

There was a brief flare in her eyes, but the expression was swiftly shielded behind neutrality. "I'm afraid I can't give you that information, Trapp. He contacts us, not the other way around." Her eyed widened a little and her cheeks filled with air, which she blew through puckered lips. "Well. He would if he actually had the manners to let us know he was dropping by, which he doesn't. Have manners, that is."

He send his most pleading look down the camera to her. "Could you try?"

"I know for a fact the registry doesn't have any coding information to contact the Doctor via his TARDIS." She held up her hand to halt any argument from him. "His TARDIS and any of her registration data has been all but deleted from the registry. I'm sorry, but I can't access that information for you because it doesn't exist."

"Ah," he breathed as his head lowered to put him in a deeper slouch. "I was afraid that might be the case." He lifted his head. "I can send out a hypercube, I suppose, but the chances that he'll receive it before my last incarnation are rather on the lower side of probable."

"Yes, I'm afraid that would be the only option available to you," she offered apologetically. She inhaled a deep breath and tipped her head to one side with curiosity. "Why do you need him, anyway?" she queried cautiously. "The distressed Capsule wasn't his, was it?" Her eyes widened further and he mouth widened into a grin. "Or have you finally located the one stolen by his former companion, Clara Oswald?"

He rubbed at his chin and pursed his lips for a short moment. "No," he offered after a moment. "Although my scanners are still scrubbing N-Space for any sign of her. I truly don't want to consider what damage an untrained and unlinked pilot will do to her." He let out a breath as his eyes pinched with sadness. "My hearts break for the terror that beautiful girl must be experiencing right now."

Celest had to chuckle. "Are you talking about the girl or the Capsule?" She looked down to her right and thumbed through a few switches as she continued to work while speaking with him. "And before you answer that, do be aware that I consider that to be the single most ridiculous question ever posed across all of Kasterborous."

"Capsule," he answered with a wink and a smile. "Always the capsule."

Celest snorted and looked back to the monitor with a smirk. She spoke to him, while focusing on a secondary monitor beside her primary one. "There's a reason your wife walked out on you, Trapp."

"Walked out on me?" he blustered incredulously. "She barely made it through the hand fasting before she ran."

"You barely made it there," she said with a laugh. "And when you did you had that ridiculous harness with a Pundeharhiran seedling on your chest and under your robes." She held up her hand before he could splutter in a remark. "What ailment did you say it had? Separation anxiety?"

He exhaled a hard breath and looked to the ceiling with a shake in his head. "Her two elder cradle sisters had just been transported to another section of the hyperlooms for Block Transfer. She was very lonely and scared."

"Really?" she huffed with obvious amusement. "You know, I've heard some ridiculous excuses in my time." She looked directly into the camera at him. "Tell me, Trapp. Do you take them to bed with you as well?"

His voice flattened out and his eyes narrowed. "Are you looking for current contact coding protocols for the Lord Doctor for me, or not?"

Celest looked back to her secondary monitor and shrugged. "It's a busy day. What makes you think I'm wasting time looking for information that I know isn't available via official means?"

"Because it isn't available via official means," he answered with a waggle in his brow. "Which presents a challenge to you."

"Yeah yeah yeah." The very tip of her tongue – as pink as the second shade of colour on her tunic – flicked out to swipe across her tongue. "Look. This might get me into a lot of trouble," she muttered as her eyes swept from side to side between computer screens and keyboard. She inhaled deeply as her fingers began to fly much more frantically across the keyboard. "Oh, what am I saying? This'll put me back in the Academy for a decade if I get caught. So you can just add this to the list of things you owe me."

His brows pinched just slightly as his secondary monitor suddenly flashed up with a green screen that flickered and flashed, and then settled with a dialogue box asking for login credentials to the Time Lord Matrix files. He stared with wide eyes at the blinking cursor in the password box that was below the user ID of: Spendrell.

He immediately jumped back from his console as though being anywhere near it would horrifically burn him. "Are you insane? The Matrix of the Lords?"

She danced a little in her seat. "The Time Lord Matrix," she sang with an arrogant little grin scrunching up her nose. "Oh yeah. I did that." Her arrogance lifted and she sat straighter in her chair as she finalized the data transfer. Her eyes were still focused on two of the three monitors at her station. "I'm sending the Matrix access codes through your Capsule's onboard computer. Whatever information you're looking for, you should be able to find it in there."

His eyes widened. "I can't believe that you actually pulled the Matrix codes?" His mouth was gaped. "How? Why?"

She smiled and shook her head lightly. "I know you, Trapp. If you're insisting on finding the Lord Doctor, then there stands a reason for it." She smiled softly at him. "And your reasons are usually pretty important – if not incredibly insane." Her voice tightened a little as she lifted her eyes to his. "Just promise me that it is important, Trapp."

"I believe it is," he offered gently. "There's an old acquaintance of his in trouble, and I think calling him might be less of an ordeal for her than me calling in the Chancellery Guards or Shadow Proclamation."

Celest blinked rapidly. She looked side to side and then leaned closer to the camera. Her voice was quiet and worried. "Tell me that you haven't witnessed a crime and aren't reporting it to the appropriate authorities." Her brow pinched and she leaned back hard into her chair with a shake of her head. "No, never mind. Look who I'm talking to…"

"A statement that can be taken a couple of ways," he deadpanned with a shake in his head.

She merely flicked her hand to him in a pointing gesture, but said nothing as she covered her eyes with her hand.

"I didn't witness a crime per se," he admitted carefully. "However, I see plenty of indicators that suggest a recent telepathic assault by a spouse."

Celest's head shot up. Her eyes were wide and her mouth gaped with horror. "What?"

"And judging by the fear I saw in her eyes, Celest." He took a breath and shook his head. "I doubt it's the first time he's done it."

Celest panted a couple of quiet breaths. "He needs to have the postsynaptic cell receptors torn from his brain." She sat up straight and laid one forearm on the desk. Her other hand rose so that she could stab her finger into the monitor. "And you need to get her out of there, Trapp. That's your responsibility right now."

"If I could then I would…."

"And meanwhile let me contact the Chancellery Guards," she continued sharply. "You'll need to give me her exact spatial coordinates for them to make contact."

"Celest…"

"Because," she growled. "Oh. There is no way that any Lord of Time – or anyone for that matter – is going to get away with raping someone's mind!"

Trapp rubbed at his brow and let out a long breath. "She hasn't asked for assistance, Celest. We can't send in the guards to arrest him if she's not going to admit he's done anything to her."

She lifted her eyes to glare a darkened stare through the camera at him. "Would you like to put a wager on that, Trapp?"

"Just find a way to let me get hold of the Doctor," he half begged inside a long suffering whine. "I don't believe for a second that all she is to him is a casual acquaintance."

Celest paused her frantic typing to look curiously at his image on the monitor. "What makes you say that?"

"He gave her a piece of his TARDIS," he admitted quietly. He heard his friend draw in a startled breath and continued. "The distress beacon that I received is from an unregistered Pundeharhiran. A wild youngling that was grown from a clipping of the Doctor's Type-40."

"Rassilon…"

Trapp nodded. "He's not going to give that to someone who is a mere acquaintance. Whoever Rose Tyler is to him – it's more than I think either of them are going to admit to."

"And if he cares for her," Celest said with a gulp. "And she comes to harm at the hands of a Time Lord…"

He nodded slowly. "So please, Celest. Help me find him."

She resumed typing on the keyboard. "Teden's onboard has the link to the Matrix. I'm sending through the access codes now. But I have to warn you," she cautioned softly. "If it pertains to the Lord Doctor, then I really don't fancy your chances of anything being accurate. The Castellan has his file locked up fairly tightly. Only a few Lords have full access – and even then, the information is speculative at best."

His console lit up with several blinking lights to indicate a secure connection was being sought from control at Gallifrey. Knowing that his time was limited, Trapp quickly accepted the connection. He licked at his lip and focused on the pathways shown on a secondary monitor. "Even if I can't find any communication protocol information, if I could just get information on one of his known acquaintances who might be able to assist," he supplied softly. "Perhaps we can reach him."

His eyes widened, as did Celest's on the other side of the connection when the face of the elderly Spandrell replaced the data streaming over the link.

Trapp moaned. "Oh, by Omega's Capsule…"

"Lord Trappulleskestrupipusikontam and Lady Celestialutherinyaparan," Spandrell droned rather sardonically over the link. "How did I guess that it'd be the two of you illegally accessing the Matrix of the Lords?" His eyes looked between the two of them – one an image on a monitor, the other directly at Trapp via his own screen. "I would imagine that the two of you are far too busy to be engaging in your usual pranks and mischief making."

Trapp spluttered with indignant insult. "Usual pranks and mischief, sir? Lady Celest and myself do not engage in pranks and mischief." He thumbed at his nose and looked off to one side. "Well. At least not since the Academy days…"

"The time which spans your previous to your most recent digression is irrelevant," Spandrell shot back coolly. "It merely proves that one which is a mischief maker will always be a mischief maker." His thin-lipped expression tipped up into a forced smile. "That said, however, I have been monitoring your transmission with Celestialutherinyaparan, Lord Trappulleskestrupipusikontam. What I heard is rather unsettling."

Trapp nodded. "You could say that."

"I have and I will," he droned in reply. "Lord Trappulleskestrupopisikontam. Your standing within the Hyperloom and Dry Dockyard facility grants you accesses above many who reside even on Council – but even you are not allowed access to the Matrix of the Lords." He let out a breath. "However. If there is any legitimacy at all in the conversation shared between yourself and Lady Celestialutherinyaparan just now, then I believe that I may be able to provide you with some of the information you're seeking." He held up his hand toward Trapp's sudden smile of gratitude. "Such legitimacy will need to be proven to me, Trappulleskestrupipusikontam. You will need to verify with me the identity of this woman who claims association with the Doctor."

"I really don't know what I can offer you," he breathed back with a somewhat defeated shrug. There was no hiding his facetiousness when he spoke again. "We met only briefly – not quite enough time for me to compile a complete dossier…" He jumped in place as the console around him lit up. There were several chirps and blips from the main Rotor column. "Teden, what are you up to?"

Spandrell's eyes widened at his own monitor. His breath hitched and his eyes widened as his lips drew into a pucker. He shook his head and moved quickly to a keyboard beside a brightly lit terminal at his side that was visible on the monitors.

"This cannot be," he breathed nervously. His eyes shifted toward Celest. "Lady Celestialutherinyaparan. Withdraw the complaint that you've forwarded to the Chancellery Guards with apology for the miscommunication."

"My Lord?"

"Immediately," he growled shortly. "If there is one thing that the forces of Gallifrey will not get involved in – that's affairs that directly relate to the Doctor and his associates." He looked toward Trapp's monitor. "Lord Trappulleskestrupipusikontam, the verification provided by your capsule is most alarming…"

Trapp kept his ear on the communications feed, and leaned down slightly to his ship as Spandrell droned on slightly. He spoke out of the side of his mouth. "Just what did you tell him?"

"Rose Tyler," Spandrell continued with worry inside his ancient, aged, voice. "Is one of only two of the Doctor's companions who have been all but eliminated from the Matrix files."

Trapp's brows pinched at that. "She was a companion?" His brows remained taut and he shook his head. Slowly in bafflement. "But she told me they were only acquaintances. The relationship between the Doctor and his companions has always been reputed as being very close."

"Some more than others," Spandrell muttered dryly. "And this one," he ambled slowly over to another computer and picked up a small cylindrical device. "This young lady was someone quite special to the old man." He lifted his head and turned slowly to return to his original terminal. "Rumours have circulated throughout the Capitol that he was in love with this child; that it was her image that saved Gallifrey from destruction."

"The Bad Wolf," Celest murmured with awe. "The name written across all of Time and Space…"

"To lead her to the one that would end the Time War," Trapp finished. His eyes were wide, yet pinched and pained. "But the one I met, Rose. She's not an all-powerful entity. She's just a woman, a Lady of Time…"

"I'm going to take offense at the just a woman comment, Trapp," Celest broke in. "There's no such thing as just a woman."

"You know what I'm getting at, Celest," he huffed in reply. "By comparison to the legend of the Bad Wolf, there is very much a thing as just a woman." He let out the remaining breath in his lungs and drew in hard. HE blushed lightly and cleared his throat. "Although, I will have to admit that there does seem to be something about her that is intriguing to a Lord of Time."

"Indeed," Spandrell gruffed. "And the Lord Doctor certainly found intrigue inside the one he called his precious girl. If she is truly his Rose Tyler, and she is in peril at the hands of a Time Lord, then all of Gallifrey is in danger if we don't do all that we can to let him know that she needs his assistance." He dropped the cylinder into a small port on his terminal. "I don't need to remind either of you of the calamity he brought down on Gallifrey the last time one of his companions ended up in trouble."

Trapp thumbed at his nose. "I won't forget. I lost one of the girls during that escapade."

Celest lifted a brow. "I love that you hold the loss of a Capsule higher than the exile of Lord Rassilon and the Lord Council, and the execution-forced-regeneration of the General."

"Don't you?"

"I don't snuggle with Pundeharhiran sleep toys when I go to sleep, so no."

Spandrell chuckled a throaty, crackled laugh. "I'm sure there are many on Gallifrey who hold much the same opinion as Lord Trappulleskestrupipusikontam, Lady Celestialutherinyaparan. Do please respect that each of us holds our own opinion and we are not to judge another Lord or Lady of time…"

"Oh please," she moaned. "Gallifrey should have been renamed Land of Judgement several millennia ago."

Trapp tapped his fingertip on the console edge and jumped lightly as his panel monitor lit up and scrolled a long list of spiralling code in a seemingly endless train. He shifted his body with a jerk to lower himself enough to try and identify the coding.

"I've released to your capsule the last verified communication signal feed wavelength information from the Lord Doctor's TARDIS," Spandrell advised sternly. "The coding, unfortunately, is outdated and not compatible to his current time relative to his last visit to Gallifrey…"

"His TARDIS wasn't on Gallifrey for his last visit," Trapp replied somewhat distractedly as he continued to watch the data stream across his monitor. "If it was, I wouldn't have lost one of my newly outfitted younglings to his thieving companion."

"And the General would still be a Lord and not a Lady," Celest offered with a shrug. "Not that she's particularly upset by it. I think she's glad to be back to Lady. I know I would be."

"This shows the last verified contact between the TARDIS and Gallifrey communications was back during the Time War," Trapp cut in with surprise. He lifted his head and looked to Spandrell's image with an expression of confusion. "But that ended more than a millennium and a half ago. This information is more than outdated, it's positively archaic." His brows tightened together. "I don't even know that Teden's systems are even compatible."

"I'm sure that you'll manage," Spandrell muttered with a wry smile. "Just remember. If you encounter a younger incarnation of the Time Lord – don't give him any…"

"Spoilers!" Celest sang out with a grin in her voice as well as across her face. "I totally read that somewhere…" Her brows lifted. "Oh yes. Right here, actually. Under the information on the unofficial wife of the Doctor: River Song."

Spandrell let out a long breath of annoyance. "Lady Celestialutherinyaparan, there are several rather tight disciplinary measures to be applied to Time Lords and Ladies that insist on behaving like nosy tafelshrews by hacking into Matrix files."

"As I am one of only three people familiar with this current quandary, I feel it rather prudent for me to arm myself with as much intelligence as is available…"

"Intelligence," he scoffed with a curl in his lip. "My dear young Lady, when it comes to intelligence, I fear it's believed that the Lord Doctor lacks any of any real substance."

"That's not what it says here," she sang with a wriggle in her seat. The wriggle and song of victory ended abruptly as Spandrell cancelled the feed between their stations. "Oh. Right."

"Lord Trappulleskestrupipusikontam," he said with heat in his voice and a continued glare toward the image of Celest on his screen. "You will make contact with the Lord Doctor and implore him to solve what I imagine is a situation of his own doing."

"Yeah," he drawled slowly. "I think I'll refrain from telling him that it's probably his fault that the woman he loves is being telepathically assaulted."

"That might be a good idea," Spandrell said with a smirk. The smile fell. "Although history suggests that he'll accept the blame for it without anyone assigning any such responsibility."

"No doubt. I think I would, too."

"Do remember, Lord Trappulleskestrupipusikontam," Spandrell continued gravely, "that the Lord Doctor can be volatile when one that he cares about is in peril. Tread carefully and do ensure that the incarnation of him who responds to your call is the appropriate one for our current time stream. Gallifrey's current period of peace and harmony can be easily compromised by a single misstep by that one Time Lord. Take him from the wrong part of Gallifrey's Timeline, and we could be thrown back into turmoil."

Trapp pursed his lips and nodded his head slowly. He looked to his Capsule's console and blew out a breath. "No pressure, Teden, yeah?" He felt an uncomfortable laugh in his left ear and looked back up to the monitors. "And so on that delightfully morbid note of warning, I shall make my leave and reach out to the Time Lord Doctor and see just where to go from here."

"And if you cannot reach him, Lord Trappulleskestrupipusikontam…"

Trapp nodded knowingly. "Then I take it upon myself to ensure her safety until such time that I can reach out to him. I understand." He lifted his eyes. "But also understand that I can't remain in her presence on a constant basis. Rose hasn't asked for assistance…."

"No," Celest offered eagerly. "But you did make mention of a youngling Pundeharhiran that requires your orange-thumb to get her flight worthy."

Spandrell smiled a grin that was full of aged and crooked yellow/brown teeth. "A perfect arrangement then, wouldn't you say? Your continual presence will be warranted if you are protecting Gallifrey's resources off-world."

Trapp rolled his eyes and drummed his fingers on the console. "I prefer to see it as preserving and nurturing the life of a precious species." He gave a slight smirk. "In this case, two members of two brilliant species. And both of them quite lovely."

"Be wary of your affections, young Lord," Spandrell warned. "The Lord Doctor is a rather territorial fellow. I don't imagine that he would be favourable to you seeking any form of fondness from the woman he loves."

Celest shook her head, but smiled. "Lord Spandrell," she said with a laugh. "It's not the woman that you'll have to worry about Trapp here looking to snuggle and cuddle with."

"And on that note," Trapp said with wide eyes of warning and a slight sneer in the set of his eyes. "Good day to you both. I'll report in when I have any further information to share."

Without waiting for any responses from either Celest or Spandrell, Trapp ended the communication feed. He looked down to the console of his ship and shook his head.

"Is she my friend or my enemy, Teden?" There was a whisper of an answer inside his ear that made the slouching Time Lord fall further into his slouch to erupt into laughter.

"Oh. I'm not going to tell her that." He straightened up and adjusted the skewed seat of his tunic on his shoulder. He then rubbed at his chin. "I quite like this face, thank you, and would like to keep it for another couple of centuries before I have to change it again."

He slapped at the console and let out a forced whoop. "So. My amazing friend. What do you say about you and me looking to contact the Doctor to let him know about Rose and little Pendra?" He watched a few lights flicker on the console and a grumbling series of beeps trilled out from the column. He knew if he pushed it, that Tedendugalia would thwart any efforts with very little effort of his own.

"Oh, don't be like that." Trip chuckled as he stooped over completely to lean against his forearms on the console. He made a point of looking at his fingernails rather than the darkened monitor in front of him. "You know. There are legends about the Doctor's TARDIS. I hear that she's a seeded classic of such incredible magnificence…" He lifted his eyes. "Royalty, even." He dropped his eyes again. "A pure mistress loyal to only time and her beloved pilot … untainted by any other male of her species."

He waited.

Nothing.

He huffed. "Okay, then. Not buying into that, then?" He leaned forward and lowered his voice to a whisper. "She's also the mother of Pendralambelle, and your potential hurdle to…" He gasped as the ship lurched and all the monitors came online.

"That's my boy," he cheered as he skipped from keyboard to keyboard to monitor, switch and button to initiate a connection between the Doctor's TARDIS and his own Capsule. "What do you think, my friend? Want to test out your new holographic-telepathic interface systems on this little tête-à-tête with Gallifrey's infamous son? Or did you want to go with a straight monitor-to-monitor discussion?"

The console room suddenly shifted into complete darkness around him. Trapp blinked and petted his hands atop the console in front of him to search out the switch for the console lights. "You okay, there, Ted?"

The console lit up again, and Trapp had to blink against the sudden harsh lighting in a console room that was usually quite dim. He hummed out a breath of concern and found his voice joined by a hum that was equally concerned but not at all unfamiliar.

A soft voice of greeting whispered gently against his ear, and although he knew it was a telepathic voice of a mature Pundeharhiran female, he still spun as though seeking out the owner of the voice. When he received a breathy chuckle, he smiled and relaxed a little.

"Well hello, beautiful," he cooed with awe in reply as he spun in a tight circle to look around him. "Look. At. You. You have to be the most magnificent creature I have ever seen."

There was a giggle to his right side, and Trapp spun with a gasp to find himself face to face with a very attractive and slight brunette woman that had a light flush on her cheeks and a twinkle in her eye.

"Well thank you," she said with a smile on her face that lifted right up into her eyes. "You're not too bad yourself."

Trapp's eyes widened and his jaw gaped. "Oh. Yes. Sorry. Didn't see you there." He held up his hands. "That isn't to say that I'm retracting any statement of beauty, because you do seem to have that in droves. Lots of droves of beauty, actually." He indicated the console of the TARDIS beside him with both hands, and without turning to face it. "I was actually talking to the ship."

"Oh," Clara breathed with a slight falter in her smile.

"Bit of a connoisseur, you see," he continued sheepishly. "Sentient time ships and their cultivation, protection and continued symbiotic relationships with the Lords of Time…" His brow tightened with embarrassment. "You know, perhaps I should introduce myself or something, because I imagine that a Time Lord suddenly appearing out of nowhere might be a little unnerving."

Clara's brows were high and her cheeks rounded with a grin she simply could seem to completely extinguish. "No. Not really. At least, not around him, anyway."

"Actually, Clara," the Doctor argued with his own light smile from across the other side of the rotor column. "The presence of Time Lords on my TARDIS is actually quite unusual."

"We had three of you in the console room only two weeks ago, Doctor."

He lifted a finger in an upward point. "Right. Yes. Well that doesn't exactly count as the three Time Lords were actually myself." He looked across to Trapp. "Different incarnations. Not quite sequential in their order – was missing one of my faces in between my last and his previous to previous face."

"That still makes three Time Lords," Clara argued cheekily.

"But it doesn't make it any less of a common occurrence, Clara," he said with a wag in his brow as he slipped his rounded glasses onto his nose. He held his arms loosely behind his back and stepped with practiced confident cautiousness around the console toward the Trapp's shimmering holographic image. "Less common is a visual holographic image from a neighbouring TARDIS." He kept his hands behind his back and leaned forward to closely scrutinize the man in front of him. "Quite remarkable technology. Are you projecting from a Type 89, by chance?"

"Type 89B – Mark II," Trapp replied with a smirk. "Still in the testing phase, you understand."

"I see," the Doctor replied as he straightened up and whipped his glasses from his face. "I can certainly offer you my thoughts on the quality of your projection at a later moment. But for now, perhaps we should make introsuctions." He straightened to his full height and forced out a smile of greeting. "Hello. I'm the Doctor."

"Hello Lord Doctor," Trapp replied with a smile. "I'm Lord Trappulleskestrupipusikontam. Born of the Arcalian chapter and current …"

"Yes yes," he interrupted rudely. "The name is fine. I can quite clearly see that you're from the Arcalian Chapter, with your love of the colour green and all." He swept his hand up and down in front of Trapp to indicate his clothing. "I don't find that, nor what you are assigned to on Gallifrey wholly important right now. What I do find to be quite fascinating right now is just why you're on my TARDIS, and when can you leave?"

"Doctor," Clara chided with a crease in her brow. "Do try to have some manners. This Lord… uh…"

"Trapp," Trapp conceded with a weary smile. "Just call me Trapp. Everyone else does. Well everyone except my wife."

"And what does she call you?" Clara joked, maintaining a decent flirt regardless of his marital status.

"That list is long and very varied," he answered with a wink.

"Still together?"

"Do. You. Mind?" the Doctor huffed out with a roll in his eye and a shake in his head. "I just indicated rather clearly that I would like him to leave, Clara. I don't think that you flirting with him and inflating your eyes and doing that…" He lifted his hands to his eyes and wiggled his fingers. "That eye lash batting thing you do is very conducive to my desire to have him gone."

He waited a moment and stared between both hologram and Human and waited for one or the other to actually move. When neither of them moved or spoke, he threw his hand out to the side in a gesture toward the door of the TARDIS.

"Well?" he demanded.

"Can I at least have a brief moment to explain why I'm looking for you?"

"I resigned from my position of errand boy to Gallifrey quite some time ago," the Doctor replied coolly. "Right around the same time that the Daleks invaded the planet and I was left with no other option but to destroy it." He paused. "Which I apparently did not do." He moved in close and lowered his voice. "I didn't. Did I?"

Trap shook his head. "No."

The Doctor didn't move. His voice remained as a low and conspiratorial whisper. "So I did it, then? It worked. I saved Gallifrey?"

"You did," Trapp replied with a slow nod of his head.

"Well! That's just marvellous, isn't it," he cheered as he stepped backward, held out his arms, and spun a triumphant twirl. He twirled past Clara and took hold of her hands to pull her up against him in a sloppy, messy waltz of triumph. "Did you hear that, Clara? It worked! Gallifrey didn't burn. We saved it!"

Clara giggled against his ear. "That's wonderful, Doctor."

Trapp watched the Doctor dance with all the coordination of a clumsy housecat with a raised brow of curiosity. Eventually, with urging from his machine, Trapp shook his head and folded his arms across his chest. "I really hate to break this up, but my ship is currently hovering inside a Vortex of a parallel universe that isn't his own. He's starting to run low on power – which means I don't have a great deal of time for you to continue to try to ignore my presence and kick me off your TARDIS."

"I told you," he said over Clara's shoulder as he continued to dance with her. "I'm not Gallifrey's errand boy anymore. If you have problems that need sorting out, then you can find someone else to do it for you."

Trapp licked at his lip and nodded. "Fine. If that's how you want to play it, Lord Doctor. I'll do what I can to protect her myself until I can get the both of them out of danger."

His interest was suddenly piqued enough that he stopped twirling a giggling Clara Oswald. "Protect who? Who's in danger, and what would it have to do with me?"

Trapp tipped his head to one side and narrowed a glare of challenge toward the Doctor. "Does the name Rose Tyler mean anything to you?"