Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or the official characters. If I did, we'd have a new episode every week for the entire year. ;-)
"We've landed," Marcan stated simply.
Aryna started breathing again, and Alistair cracked one eye open.
"We're still alive!" the human observed excitedly.
"Obviously," the Master said dryly.
"But are we in the right place?" Aryna voiced the question on all of their minds.
"Well, we are in some kind of room, and it is below the Citadel. Quite close to the Library actually," the Master answered while consulting his console readouts.
"Only one way to find out," Aryna threw over her shoulder as she breezed past the others towards the doors.
Before anyone had the chance to stop her, she flung them open and walked out with her shoulders squared, and a determined expression on her face.
"Aren't you coming?" Alistair asked the two Time Lords before following Aryna.
Marcan and the Master met each other's gaze.
"She has her confidence back," the Master pointed out.
"But is that a good thing?" was Marcan's reply.
The Master shrugged, and the two of them left the TARDIS with a bit more caution then the ginger Time Lady had.
Alistair had pulled a small torch out of his backpack, and was examining some writing on a wall panel. The blue glow from the tip of Aryna's sonic screwdriver cast an eerie light as she scanned the walls, looking for any sort of doorway. The Master approached her.
"A greater degree of care on your behalf might be in order," he spoke quietly, but his voice still echoed softly off the walls of the abandoned caverns.
"We don't have time. We can't tiptoe about, peeking around every corner before making a move," she whispered, "Besides, the Doctor is the only one we're likely to find down here for a while, and there are four of us."
"Three," he corrected with irritation.
"Don't discount Alistair," she warned, "He may only be a human, but you would be surprised how much of an asset he can be when given the chance. If you're not careful, that Time Lord snobbery of yours will start to show."
"I am not a snob," he hissed.
"This really isn't the time or place," Marc reminded them.
"True enough," she agreed, continuing her search.
"Aryna!" Alistair called softly from the other side of the hall, "I think I've found something."
Jogging up to the panel he was examining she spoke, "What is it Alistair?"
"Do you remember that ancient dialect you showed me once? The one you said that very few Gallifreyans could read anymore?"
"Yes, Old High Gallifreyan, what about it?"
"If I'm not mistaken, that's what this is!" he whispered excitedly, gesturing with the beam of light from his torch.
She scrutinized the markings more closely, reaching out to wipe away millennia of dust and grime. She turned to address the two Time Lords.
"He's right. That would be consistent with the age of the Scrolls," turning back to the wall she squinted, "I can translate it, but that will take time."
"How did he even recognize it for what it was?" the Master asked incredulously.
Aryna cast a smile of almost maternal pride toward Alistair, "Because he's brilliant."
"We need to get this translated now," Marc urged.
"It will go faster with your help," she remarked.
"Alistair and I will explore a bit further while the two of you work on that," the Master decided and gestured to Alistair, "Come on, let's see what else you can uncover."
Aryna and Marcan worked quietly and efficiently.
"So it wasn't hidden by Rassilon," she mused, "But by followers of Omega. I wonder if this is what set Hedin on his quest to bring Omega back all those years ago…"
"Hedin was killed by the Master. He was never on any sort of 'quest' to bring Omega back. That would be utter madness," was Marcan's reply.
Aryna sighed, "I really have got to be more careful about what I say."
"Does that mean that someone will actually try it? Do you think a Time Lord will somehow attempt to bring Omega back from the anti-matter universe? That would be catastrophic!"
"Look," Aryna interrupted, "I don't know what will happen in your future any more than you do. I only know what has happened in my past. Well, not exactly my past, but the Doctor did tell me the whole story…"
"Yes, yes, fine," Marcan cut in, "We don't have time to swap stories. We're getting sidetracked. I think we have this figured out, though."
"So, what's it say?" Alistair asked from behind them.
Aryna started slightly. She hadn't heard them walk up. She covered her surprise smoothly and answered the question.
"Apparently, it wasn't Rassilon who left this vault hidden. It was followers of Omega."
"That's interesting," the Master agreed, "But does it tell us where the vault is?"
Marcan tapped the large sheet of metal, "Behind the panel."
Aryna produced her sonic screwdriver with a flourish and moved it along the edges. The soft blue light and quiet whirring told Alistair that the screwdriver was working, but still, nothing happened.
"Could it be somewhere else?" he asked her.
"No, this is definitely it, but it's sealed really, REALLY well," she explained, frowning at the ineffectiveness of her favorite gadget.
"Here, let me," the Master nudged her aside and flicked on a similar device, except his emitted a distinctly red glow, and produced sparks from the edges of the metal panel.
Aryna's jaw dropped and the Master smirked when he caught her expression.
"Laser screwdriver," he explained with a laugh, "Who'd have sonic?"
"Ohhhh, that is creepy. Really, that is seriously creepy," she backed away slightly, eyeing the enigmatic Time Lord.
The Master grinned his maniacal grin and laughed, making Aryna's blood run cold.
She didn't know what was harder to handle, an evil Doctor who didn't always seem completely evil, or a not evil Master, who still had that streak of insanity to him. Not to mention another Marcan who felt all too familiar… Aryna shook her head to clear her thoughts, and refocused on the task at hand. There would be plenty of time for reflection later, after they had averted this current crisis.
The edge of the panel fizzled and sparked and slid open. The Master leaned into the opening, taking a look around.
"It can't be that easy. It's never that easy."
Marcan walked into the vault, "Apparently, this time it is."
"Let's not question our good fortune," Aryna suggested as she too walked through the opening, "We're entitled to a bit of luck now and again, surely!"
"I think so," the Master agreed as he followed them, "But the universe doesn't."
Alistair rolled his eyes and tried to keep pace with the others, "You're all paranoid. The universe is not out to get you…"
At that moment, the panel slid shut behind them. All four turned towards the metallic slam.
The Master cleared his throat, "You were saying?"
"I rescind my earlier comment," Alistair answered with chagrin.
"Well, at least we're in," Aryna pointed out.
"Yes, but the question is, will we be able to get out?" the Master observed.
"We can deal with that later. First things first. Let's find what we came for and then figure out an exit strategy," Marcan directed calmly.
Aryna pulled a torch out of her pocket that closely resembled the one Alistair carried. Clicking it on, she shined the light around the room.
"We'll find it faster if we split up."
"I'll take Alistair," the Master decided.
"Yell if you find anything," Aryna said absently as she set to work sifting through the contents of the room.
"This room isn't as big as I'd expected, but it could take more time than we have to find the Black Scrolls," Marcan remarked.
"It would help if we knew what we were looking for," Aryna sighed, "Do you know what they look like?"
Marc shook his head, "No. Have you ever seen them?"
"Not precisely," she admitted, "Although the Doctor did. He mentioned that they were in a small chest. Rather ornate. But there's no reason to think that they would be in a similar box here."
"Then you have some idea what's in the Scrolls."
"No, I really don't. Neither did the Doctor. They were burned before he had a look at them. Just as well," she shrugged, "The Time Lord who had found them used the knowledge for his own ends. It turned out to be his undoing."
"Who found them on your Gallifrey?"
Aryna hesitated, "I don't suppose it would do any harm to tell you. It was Borusa."
"The Cardinal on your world was searching for them too?" a note of amazement crept into his voice at the similarities between their universes.
"Not the Cardinal," Aryna corrected, "Lord President."
Marcan opened another box and sifted through the contents, "So he did become president."
"On my world, yes. But as I said before, his ambitions brought about his end."
"I can see why you're so insistent about destroying the Scrolls," Marcan said thoughtfully.
"That knowledge corrupted a former mentor of mine beyond help. If the situation on your Gallifrey is as fragile as I guess it to be, then something like this could tear it apart."
"How did you get to be this wise?"
"I've lived for over eight-hundred years, Marc. Anyone would have learned something by now. And I wouldn't exactly classify myself as wise."
"You've got this crazy temper, like nothing I've ever seen before, at least not in you. But at the same time, you have all of this experience, and you can assess a situation quickly and sort out what to do about it. It's…" he searched for the right word, "Contradictory."
"Yeah, the wise old Time Lady with the temper of a teenager," she replied sourly, "I thought that as I regenerated I might mellow a bit more than I have."
"It may not seem it at times, but you have mellowed considerably," he assured her.
"Marcan," she turned serious, "I think I've found them."
He looked over her shoulder at the plain wooden box she had opened. The ebony-colored rolls of paper were unmistakable.
"Different box," she noted, "But the Scrolls are just as he described them to me."
"I'll go find the Master and Alistair. Wait here for us."
Marcan navigated the maze of shelves and boxes in search of the rest of their group. Aryna couldn't take her eyes from the Black Scrolls. She didn't dare touch them, let alone read any of them, but neither could she look away. They had played a part in the downfall of Borusa on her Gallifrey. Not to mention the deaths of others caused by his actions. The tale her Doctor had told was not a pretty one. And the reminder of it was saddening. A chilling voice broke her reflections.
"Well now, I knew that if I was patient, you would find them for me."