Tegan may not know much about art, but she knows what she likes.


Tegan hadn't much fancied the idea of working under Turlough, but he did know how things got done on Gallifrey. She truly warmed to him once she saw him handle the Castellan. He didn't ask permission for anything, he didn't order anything done, but simply asked the Castellan what authorizations needed to be supplied by the President. The Castellan read out a long list. Turlough used an autoscriber to get it all down. Then he presented the paper to the Castellan. It had been pre-signed by the Doctor, a kind of blank check.

"Thank you, Castellan Beldred. I'll be sure to let the President know how helpful you've been." Turlough smiled; Tegan smiled; the Castellan accepted the paper. He couldn't do anything else.

The celebration was set in a big hall near the Panopticon. Turlough had assigned Tegan to oversee the decorations. Tegan's brief, amused vision of balloons and paper streamers was completely burst by Senfadrell.

"I am a scientist as well as an artist," he informed her coolly. Senfadrell was a Patrexean Time Lord. He appeared to be in early middle age, and looked like a Spanish nobleman with his dark complexion and openly arrogant mien. "Only a deep understanding of the principles of light, sound, and spatial dimension make my work possible. On top of this, I must consider the psychological aspect."

Tegan went for the frank approach. "I'm glad you know what you're doing, because I don't. All I know is what the President wants."

Tegan looked at Senfadrell. Senfadrell looked down his nose at her. "The requirements are for the most part boring. Otherstide is a banal occasion; kept up because people enjoy doing things they've done a hundred times before. It panders to the lowest common denominator, but that is the politics of public opinion."

"This year the Doctor wants to hold a dance." Tegan watched closely, but Senfadrell did not betray any confusion.

"Is this to be a performance, or a group activity?" He arched an eyebrow.

"He wants to introduce dancing as a social activity, and encourage everyone who attends to take part. That's why it's going to be held in that large hall off the Panopticon."

"You will demonstrate this activity for me."

Tegan took him to the hall. It had a wide center area that would be perfect for dancing. She demonstrated a few steps and explained about pairs of dancers weaving around the floor in company.

He watched her critically. "The President is fortunate that I have the time to undertake this task."

Tegan stared at him. "It's just a big open space. There's plenty of room for dancing here, and there are the side areas for seating and refreshments. What is there to do that's so complicated?"

"Humph. I'd blame that on your primitive condition, but unfortunately, many Time Lords have no appreciation of social environments. Open space? It's a vast, gaping black hole in the middle of personal interactions before the dancing begins. And after? To perform these actions in groups without collision? It will be a disaster, save for my intervention. I shall go unappreciated, of course. It is the fate of genius."

He flung his arms out. "I will partition the space with light and sound, dynamically cued by the procession of events. I must have complete control of all music. Indeed, I will have to manage it personally throughout the evening."

"Partition with light and sound?" Tegan couldn't help imagining a disco ball hanging from the ceiling.

"That should be obvious. Behavior can be influenced by subtle cues in the environment. Certain tones and intensities of light can create an environment conducive to social interaction in small groups, for instance. The right type of ambient sound can cut out interference from other voices in the area. People who are speaking together naturally cluster."

"And what if you want people to feel free to move, as they should for dancing?" Tegan looked up. There were no windows in here, but the ceiling had a slant that reminded her of a cathedral.

Senfadrell came right up to her and looked up as well. Tegan was startled. It wasn't normal Gallifreyan behavior to invade personal space.

"Vertical space can be erased or enhanced as needed," he commented.

"On Earth, for winter festivals, we had fire light."

"Open flames. How barbaric."

"It makes a place seem warm and welcoming. Cozy."

Senfadrell looked nauseated. "Does the President want 'cozy'?" he asked, not bothering to conceal his horror.

"Otherstide is supposed to be about family, I thought."

"Ah, yes, the larger Gallifreyan 'family'. I've heard this speech. I believe the President takes it out of the back of his wardrobe and polishes it up once a year."

Tegan laughed and he stared at her in astonishment. "Is it the Speech of Rassilon?" she couldn't resist asking.

Turlough came in with the Gallifreyan nutritional delivery technician. They went to the side of the hall where refreshments would be laid out. Tegan was not quite sure what these technicians did, but as long as she didn't have to do the washing up, she was happy.

Senfadrell was not. "Oh, sweet Omega. Nutritechs. They'd mattermit the food directly into our large intestines if they could." He'd raised his voice. Turlough looked over, but his companion did not. "As if eating were merely about providing the body with nutrients! What about the social matrix, you hack? For all you know about the psychodynamics of food intake you might as well serve it all in one trough!"

Tegan took Senfadrell by the arm. She'd been in the theatre arts program at school, and she knew something about artistic temperament. "I've got something to show you, Lord Senfadrell, that you might find creatively inspiring."

"What? Oh, very well." He let her lead him out. Tegan noticed that the tech had put Turlough between herself and Senfadrell. Turlough was grinning. She chose not to wonder why.

"You know what I think is needed? Something more like natural light. What's the point of having a winter festival if you can't tell it's wintertime?"

- o - O - o -

"Nothing you do is going to make me look like a Time Lady! Don't show me anything with those high collars. They look ridiculous on me." Oh, God, she was arguing with a machine. And she swore it was sulking, the panel had gone gray. Reason, that was the way to go about it.

"I'll wear gold and white, since I'm going with the President, and I want to honor that. But it is not a formal occasion, and I want something easy to move in. Not too heavy or bulky. The long skirt is fine. No, that looks like a box with sleeves." The matter of her dress for the Otherstide party was proving trickier than Tegan had anticipated. It's not like she wanted something fussy, so why was she fussing over it?

The solution, she realized at last, was to work out what she wanted on paper. The damn wardrobe could apparently produce almost anything by way of clothing, as long as you didn't ask it for a bra. That seemed to be beyond the grasp of Gallifreyan fashion technology.

The visitor chime sounded. Tegan remembered that she'd invited Leela to have tea in her garden. Was it that late already? "Authorize," she said and got up, smoothing down her clothes. She went to meet Leela. "Welcome. I think I've got tea laid on, if I made the computer understand me. I'm better with machines that I can touch."

The way to the garden passed through Tegan's work area. Leela paused to look at the sketches. "I see you do not like what the imager offers you. You have gone to much effort."

"I'm going with the Doctor. I wanted something special. Not that he'll notice, but I'll know I made the effort."

Tea was set out on a low stone table. The table, the flagstones surrounding it, were all warm. A pair of cushions had been provided for seating.

It was snowing. The snowflakes fell down upon them, and were vaporized before they touched Tegan or her guest, or any of the tea things. She could feel a little burst of warmth if it happened close by. It was silly and extravagant but delightful. It amused Leela, bringing a child-like smile to the warrior's face.

"The Doctor gave this place to you?"

"For the duration of my visit to Gallifrey. I can change it, too. I don't want to make any real changes. I'd like to add something. Something small and simple and beautiful. Something that will last."

"Something alive?"

"Yes! I knew you would understand, Leela."

"I will think on it." Leela selected another biscuit. "The Doctor notices everything."

"What?" Tegan paused, teacup halfway to her mouth. Oh–she'd said earlier that the Doctor wouldn't notice she'd made an effort to look nice for him.

"He notices everything, but he does not always act on what he sees. Sometimes he plays the fool and pretends he did not see it, and the first one he fools is himself."

Tegan couldn't argue with that. "Well, he'll notice, then. I'm not asking for anything."

Leela nodded. "It is a gift, freely given. Like the garden."

Tegan sipped at her tea, feeling wary. Leela did not chatter like other people. She spoke to the purpose.

"Keludar asked to be remembered to you. I told him you would not have forgot him."

Tegan winced and put down her teacup as if it had burned her. "Of course I haven't."

"He has done something to displease you. Should he be punished?"

"Did he say he had displeased me?" Tegan demanded, suddenly angry.

"He did not say. Yet before your visit to the Outside you were often in his company, and now you shun him."

"I'm not shunning him. It hasn't been that long since… since I saw him." Tegan knew she was giving her upset away.

Leela didn't rise to the bait. A woman of Tegan's time might have asked Tegan to talk about it, encouraged her to share. Leela, it seemed, did not gossip. "If there is a conflict between you, the two of you should discuss it. It is better to be open enemies than refuse to face one with whom you disagree. That is cowardly."

Tegan felt thoroughly scolded. Leela practiced what they'd started calling 'tough love' back on Earth of her era. "I guess I shouldn't hole up here any more. He'll think I'm afraid of him."

"You are not, of course. That is well said. Now, shall I help you with your dress? I know how to make the machine minds obey me."

"It's the collar. I hate those high collars everyone wears. I give it a new design and it messes up the collar every time." Tegan spoke of the dress, but she was really thinking of Keludar. She didn't know what to say to him.

- o - O - o -

She knew where to casually run into Keludar. There was no shopping on Gallifrey, but there were public areas where food could be shared. Certain areas were allowed to serve as public performance venues, and private citizens would play instrumental music. The closest thing she heard to singing came from a musician who mixed vocal tones with the sound of his instrument. He didn't use words, unless he was using a language the translator circuits couldn't, wouldn't, or were not permitted to translate. He was a favorite of Tegan's. His music reminded her of Aboriginal tribal music.

Tegan got a cup of a fruit juice, and sipped now and then, waiting. She supposed she could have arranged to meet Kel, but she was still working out what to say to him.

"Have you succeeded in getting the taste out of your mouth?" Kel spoke from behind her, and then circled around her seat to the front.

It was such a nasty thing to say that Tegan wanted to see by his face if he meant it. He smirked at her, but no pretense of wit served to cover the rage in his eyes. Chilled, she shrank back in her seat.

He turned his back on her. His shoulders sagged. "I apologize."

She finished her drink so she could discard the cup. "For what you said a moment ago, or for something else?"

Kel chuckled briefly and turned to face her. "Maybe both. Maybe neither. You disturb my equilibrium. I do like surprises, but you are never what I expect."

This kind of talk made Tegan's head spin. It was so indefinite, implying much and saying little. "You apologized because it's my fault, is that what you're saying?"

"That is the unfortunate logical reduction of my speech. My equilibrium is disturbed, you may recall." His smile became positively sunny.

"Don't you need to be tougher than that if you expect to be a Time Lord?"

Keludar laughed. It was positively operatic. Everyone within sight turned and stared. Only for a moment did they stare; and then turned away as if erasing Keludar from all perception.

It creeped Tegan out, all the more because there was genuine emotion behind the laugh.

He dropped down to one knee at Tegan's feet like a suitor in a Victorian melodrama. "I'm never going to qualify, Tegan. Bad blood, very bad." Keludar was all smiles, his blue eyes glittered.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She frowned at him.

"When a Time Lord is made, his gene pattern is added to the Looms. It is a statement of fitness; you are now automatically of superior quality and your genes will help form the future of Gallifrey. If a Time Lord is later disgraced, then the genes are removed from the Looms. This does not happen often. The Time Lords value intelligence even in a criminal."

"Or a renegade?" Tegan felt a qualm, thinking of the Doctor's checkered past.

Keludar put his hands on the edge of the bench, flanking her hips, and leaned forward. His eyes narrowed. "The Doctor's genetic fitness has been questioned, but his pattern remains in the Looms although it is not favored. That may perhaps change. But if you consider the matter carefully, my dear Tegan, you will realize that before the disgraced genes are deleted, they will have produced new Loomlings. I must confess to a dreadful lapse in taste when selecting my ancestors. My progenitors include such luminaries as Borusa, Goth, and Koschei."

Tegan only knew one of those names. "But Lord Borusa was very respected until … I mean, you can't help it. Why should it matter if you're smart enough? What will they say, you're descended from Borusa, so you're out?"

"Not in so many words." He kept his eyes on her face as if expecting a particular response. "I did not rely on words. I ran the numbers. No one who has a significant inclusion of Koschei's gene pattern has been made a Time Lord since he was officially disgraced. I had hoped Borusa's favor would see me past that." He sat back on his heels and shrugged, still smiling.

"Who are these people, Goth and Koschei?"

Keludar tilted his head to one side, displaying a razor edged whimsy that set her nerves jangling in alarm. "Goth was a candidate for Presidency. He framed the Doctor for the President's assassination, in cooperation with Koschei. Koschei is the old name of the Time Lord you know as the Master."

Tegan flinched and put up a hand to ward him off, though he had not moved. He smiled, like the Master always smiled; smiled rather than show any honest feeling.

"While there is a fixed limit of time by which a student must qualify as a Time Lord, you can be told you are disqualified any time before then. In my case, I anticipate that unless I do something drastic, time will simply run out."

"That's a pretty raw deal. I'm so–" Tegan never completed the sentence, for Keludar vaulted to his feet.

"Numbers do not lie. Are you afraid of me, Tegan?"

She had to crane her neck to see his face with him standing so close. "You do scare me a little, but I like you anyway." Not his fault who he's descended from.

He cupped her cheek with one hand and brushed his thumb across her cheekbone, smearing a trace of wetness away. "I didn't mean to speak of this. Perhaps we may talk again later." His hand dropped away.

"Are you coming to the Otherstide party?"

"I cannot fail to witness the spectacle of the High Council dancing. The President may have to repeal the laws of gravity. Unnecessary in his case though it may be."

"He claims to know how to dance. He hasn't proved it to me, yet."

"Hasn't he? Ah, well, you'll know on the night."

tbc