Disclaimer: I didn't do it. No one saw me do it. You can't prove a thing. Oh, and on the off chance that you can prove something, I'm not making any money from this anyway. The TARDIS and related miscellany are property of the BBC. I'm just, er, borrowing.
Author's Notes: This is probably in direct contradiction to canon in a dozen different places. I'm sorry about that. I assure you it's not intentional. I'm not all that clear on what exactly constitutes canon, or if established canon even exists WRT Theta Sigma's abrupt departure from Gallifrey. What I do know about canon I've tried to stay true to. This isn't supposed to be AU or anything, but I suppose it might have to be if I've messed up somewhere. Canon police should read at their own risk. Now, on with the show.
Theta Sigma: A newly minted -- and long since disaffected -- Time Lord. The ink's not even dry yet on his doctorate from the Time Lord Academy. His friends call him Thete.
Drax: A disaffected Time Lord-in-training.
Lord Borusa: A high-ranking Time Lord bureaucrat and lecturer at the Academy. Both Thete and Drax have been his students.
Red-uniformed guard: Just what it sounds like. He's a thug and a sadist, but good at his job. Unlike nameless red-uniformed guards in another popular SF series, he's not doomed from the outset. Though perhaps he should be.
Theta Sigma had that look again. The one that meant he was up to something. Probably something dangerous; certainly something that was in direct violation of some or all of the rules.
Drax looked up from his work and smiled back. A smile between co-conspirators. He didn't like the rules any more than Thete did, and relished every opportunity to break them, particularly if it was achieved in the company of his friend. For one thing, it meant that he was far less likely to get caught. Thete was just uncanny that way. Just when things looked hopeless, he'd manage to evade capture. Drax was not so lucky.
The other reason it was good to have Thete with him was that, if they did get caught, Thete could take all the blame. Not that Drax bore him any ill will; more that Theta Sigma, with his powerful Prydonian chapter connections, would be all but immune to prosecution. If their situations were reversed, Drax would have gladly shouldered all the blame for their misadventures. But as it was he couldn't bear another black mark on his record. His presence was barely tolerated in the Time Lord Academy as it was. One more infraction and he'd be expelled. Again. And this time it'd probably be permanent.
"How you doing, Drax? Keeping out of trouble?"
"No thanks to you, Thete."
Theta Sigma's jaw dropped. "You cut me to the quick, my boy," he replied. "And after all I've done for you." The injured look vanished and the knowing grin returned. He cast a covetous look at the time capsules lined up in the repair bays. "So... where do you want to go today?"
"Not now, Thete. I'm in enough trouble as it is. After that last time out they're bound to be watching my every move." He didn't have to say who "they" were.
Theta Sigma was walking slowly past the time capsules now, reaching out absently to touch one or another, feeling the electric tingle or contented vibration emanating from each glowing cube. Like a whole room full of cats purring. These time capsules were in for repairs though, and some of them gave off vibrations that were decidedly unwell. He reached one of the more obviously damaged ones and pressed both hands against its side, his eyes closed. "What's wrong with this one?" he asked.
"The type 40?" Drax sighed. "What isn't wrong with it? For starters, the chameleon circuit is packed up. Just look at it. That's the default setting, right? It's supposed to be glowing white, like the rest of these. Should be a simple repair too, but I can't make it stick. It seems to want to stay like that. Blue."
"Superficial. What else is wrong?"
Where to begin, Drax wondered. "Navigation, braking, trimonic barriers, stabilizer array, drift compensation... you pick something; it's probably broken."
"Telepathic circuits?"
"Unreliable. Mostly I get nothing, not even a whisper. But last time I tried a diagnostic, well there was a blast of... something. Like telepathic feedback. About knocked me on my--" Drax paused. What wasn't Thete telling him? "Why do you ask? You picking up something?"
"Most definitely, most definitely." His eyes were still closed, his forehead pressed against the softly glowing side of the cube. "It's... She's calling to me."
He stood like that for a while longer, then snapped into motion like a switch had been thrown. He'd produced a cylindrical device -- was that a sonic screwdriver? -- from somewhere and was twirling it expertly between his fingers as he moved toward the front of the time ship. He shot a devilish grin at Drax. "I'm going for a ride," he announced. "You coming?"
It was tempting. Really tempting. Drax felt the wanderlust as surely as his friend did. But why did it have to be that ship? There was so much that could go wrong. He'd had a peek at the machine's insides, and didn't like what he saw. As suffocating as life in the Gallifreyan capitol could be, it was still preferable to having his remains smeared across the vortex intermixed with pieces of a broken TARDIS.
He shook his head. "Er...you sure you want to take that one? It's not cleared for safe operation."
Theta Sigma laughed. "They're never cleared for safe operation! If they were they wouldn't be here." He lowered his voice and placed a hand on Drax's shoulder. "C'mon. It's not like we haven't done this before." A pause. "You trust me, don't you?"
"You, yes. That TARDIS, no. It's well and truly broken, Thete. Barely maintaining a connection to this reality at all. Taking it into the vortex now would be far too dangerous."
Theta Sigma looked offended. "Dangerous? Nonsense!" He stroked the side of the bluish box and the uneven purring grew louder. "See? Harmless as a kitten."
"Tell that to the cobblemouse. You go if you must. I'll stay here and... keep an eye on things."
"Suit yourself."
"Oh and Thete?"
The Time Lord looked hopefully back from the capsule entrance, thinking perhaps his friend had changed his mind. "What?"
"You may as well do this right." He tossed his friend a small metallic bauble on a slender chain. "Cypher indent key. More reliable than jimmying the lock with that screwdriver of yours."
The door slid open smoothly as Theta Sigma turned the key, and Drax added, "It's probably the only reliable thing about that capsule, so be careful."
"Thanks Drax. I owe you one."
"You owe me more than that. So try to come back in one piece, okay?
The time ship slowly dematerialized and Drax winced at the sickly rasping noise it made. Again he wondered why Thete had to pick that ship to go traipsing around the universe in. Thete was more than competent to handle a TARDIS, but Drax still found himself wondering if he'd ever see his friend again.
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His ride was to be short but not uneventful.
Theta Sigma stood beside the still-open console, sonic screwdriver in hand. He'd just finished disabling the ship's recall circuits -- he didn't want to be pulled back to Gallifrey at the push of a button -- but he knew it wasn't enough. They'd still pull him back, he thought, but he didn't have to make it easy for them. Gallifrey had a hold on him stronger than any recall circuit. He was still effectively on a leash, though it was now a far longer one. For the moment at least, he had room to run.
May as well make use of it, he told himself as he slid a large lever forward. The ship responded instantly, surging through the vortex with a sensation of pure joy. Her pilot felt it too -- the TARDIS's telepathic circuits saw to that. His own feelings of freedom and wild abandon mixed with those given off by the ship until it was impossible to tell which of them was experiencing what. This is what he was made for, he thought. Or had the ship thought that?
Speed and distance were illusory concepts in the strange realm of the vortex, but the sensations given off by the TARDIS were of unparalleled velocity. The thrill of flight. No need to choose a destination yet -- getting there is more than half the fun. Theta Sigma threw back his head and laughed.
The ship seemed to join in the laughter. There was the faintest rumble beneath the floor, coupled with a vibration of the console itself. Theta Sigma was just beginning to wonder why he could feel the vibration with his hands instead of just in his head, when the lights all went out.
The darkness was complete. He had to find his way around the console by touch, and it wasn't easy. The type 40 console was unique -- nothing was where it should be, and several times he inadvertently triggered alarms. At least he hoped he had triggered them. If something outside the ship caused the alarms to sound... well it might be best not to think about that.
The vibration was getting worse. It became a shudder, then a shaking. Finally the whole room gave a tremendous lurch, and Theta Sigma found himself thrown sideways. He scrambled to his feet but it was hard to know which way was up, now that the floor seemed to be tilting and the gravity kept shifting. He felt as if he were in one of the Capitol's many highspeed lifts, only without lights and occasionally going into freefall. It occurred to him that his "longer leash" might also be considered "enough rope to hang himself". Not a pleasant thought. He reached out with his mind, seeking that telepathic connection that had been so comforting moments before, but it was no longer there.
All at once a blinding flash of light filled the room, accompanied by the noise of a tremendous explosion. The console was blasted apart in an instant, and the ship's pilot found himself suddenly airborne. He impacted hard against a wall, momentarily dazed. Debris rained down around him, and the room was once more plunged into darkness. The fizzing sparks of frying circuitry were the only light remaining, and they gave a ghostly flicker through the smoke pouring from the central rotor. As he crawled back toward the ruined console, Theta Sigma thought he could hear the rumbling roar of materialization, though it was difficult to tell through the ringing in his ears. Spots of light danced in his vision as the floor rolled beneath him. Sometime before reaching the console, he passed out.
TO BE CONTINUED