Book Three – History will teach us nothing

Seventeen

"Romana? Romana?"

Romana felt the sting of a slap against her cheek as the vision ended, and she found herself staring into the mirrored lenses of the Doctor's goggles. Like Pengallia in her dream, she saw a single tear rolling down her cheek.

"Doctor? Teyamat?" She stared at the old crone. No different now than she had been in Pengallia's vision all those years ago. Except for the bag of cheesy nachos she was still consuming.

"Are you with us?" The Doctor asked.

"Yes, yes of course." Pausing to take stock, she familiarised herself with the console room again before turning inwards. She could feel her new isomorphic bond with the Temperlost. "I'm all here."

"Wish I was," quipped the Doctor, returning his attention to the console. "Wish this was too. Did you get any insight into how we stabilise this sun?"

"Yes. There are six stellar manipulators holding it in place. They're controlled…" she moved beside the Doctor, pointing out a panel six inches in front of his nose, "...from here."

"Ah. Excellent." He paused to examine the screen. "They're Type Twos," he announced. "That's even better."

"Solar engineering isn't my forte, Doctor. What's so good about Type Two Stellar Manipulators?"

"They're semi-sentient. Their owner whistles and they bark."

Romana leaned forwards to examine the on-screen data. "A lame animal can't run properly no matter what its master tells it to do. Two of those manipulators are only working at fifteen percent capacity."

The Doctor beamed a superior smile. "Stellar Manipulators are designed to last for as long as the oldest star. The problem we have here is that their control of the sun has higher priority than their self-repair circuits."

It wasn't often that the Doctor could surpass Romana's knowledge in matters technical, so he was relishing the experience. "The Temperlost is semi-sentient. It should have compensated by using a quad magnetic field to stabilise the sun while the manipulators repaired themselves. Unfortunately, its been too busy pining for its owner. That's the downside of forming one-sided emotional attachments. Pengallia was too busy to put her ship first. She lavished it and then she stripped it. Poor thing doesn't know what to do with itself."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that a little TLC is probably all she needs. From you."

"TLC?" Romana arched an eyebrow. What did he mean? A Transferred Linear Charge? Thin Layer Chronography? Triangulated Laser Correction? She hadn't a clue what the acronym stood for. "What's that?"

"Tender loving care," he explained. "Like I give the TARDIS."

"Ah," said Romana. "There, there," she thumped the console. "I'm here for you."

The Doctor's head sank into his hands as he let out a deep sigh of frustration. As he did so, the sound of the console shifted and a red light turned green. The Doctor looked up as the screen confirmed that the Temperlost was now enveloping the Oculus in a quad magnetic force field while the damaged manipulators started to recover.

"Haha!" The Doctor jumped up and hugged Teyamat and Romana, spilling nachos and dropping his stick. "We did it!"

Romana smiled. "Yes, Doctor. We did, didn't I?"

It was raining. Hard enough to slow Gesar's progress as he and his monks led the protector's entourage up the mountain. They had been lucky enough to navigate the swamps before the rain began, but the dust and soil of the mountain path had quickly turned to mud, forcing them onto slightly rockier terrain. Above them the already darkening Oculus was obscured by the shadow of the monastery above them. They were getting close to their destination.

Fixed firmly to his mount, K9 bobbed up and down as he discussed the finer points of the planet's history with Councillor Erkal. The old man's encyclopaedic knowledge of K'thellid's past was filling considerable gaps in the little robot's database, and raising more than a few questions.

"Query. If the k'thellid are water-dwellers, why do some choose to live at the top of Mount Madronal? Its atmosphere and proximity to the sun are not conducive to…"

It is the duty of the K'thellid to maintain a vigil over the Well of Deep Time… explained Protector K'thellid, interrupting their discussion. He had spent most of the journey in silence, concentrating on keeping the Doctor's TARDIS away from the Oculus… and the entrance lies at the top of the mountain.

Erkal coughed, ignoring the protector and responding directly to the robot's question. "That's something I could never work out either, K9. Why should the K'thellid have such a duty?"

The protector flushed. K'thannid's wrath is reason enough.

"But why should that affect you? Oh, you say you're rivals, but his anger will be focused on those who attacked him. Pengallia and the fallen. Not on those of his children who found a way to survive."

"Is everything alright?" It was Gesar, at his most diplomatic.

"No, not really," said Erkal. "K9 asked an innocent question, and the protector here's being vague about his answer."

Erkalliboritrixistomas ,the protector used the councillor's full name, there is nothing vague about my responses. The Well is sacred to fallen and k'thellid alike.

"Ah," Gesar could see where this was going. It had been raised by Erkal and others on more than one occasion at Council meetings. "The religion observed by the Monks of Madronal incorporates rituals from both k'thellid and time lord cultures. It's a shared duty. A symbol of the peace between us."

"But why are the people of the city excluded?" Erkal was undeterred. "Nobody has ever explained to us why the peace is even necessary. Nor why K'thellid take humanoid form, nor why they haven't crushed their neighbours."

Trust, councillor. There is no need for…

"Intruders!" Announced K9 abruptly. "Sensors indicate forty four riders approaching a hundred and twenty degrees to the south west."

The rain and the shifting Oculus did little to help them see what K9 had detected. After years of staring down the mountain in all kinds of light and weather, it was Abbot Gesar who saw them first.

"It's Aldus and the Honour Guard! We need to get to the monastery now. Quickly!"

Gesar urged the men to break for higher ground and the party scattered. Unused to riding steeds, the monks were almost as slow as the m'n'ch'k, whose slow scuttling was equally unsuited to the steep terrain. Within moments they were surrounded by masked riders.

Summoning Brothers Xerinar and Ch'sheth to his side, the abbot rode out to meet their assailants, intent on defusing the situation. At the head of the Honour Guard was Aldus. The only member of the guard who went unmasked, he cut an even more imposing figure than normal. A giant of a man riding a great black steed. The former Sheriff squeezed its flanks, urging it forwards to meet the abbot.

"You know my terms, Abbot. Hand over the protector and his menks and I'll let you go back to your monastery unharmed."

"You know I can't do that. I swore an oath to Pengallia herself…"

"Says you!" Aldus spat, his single eye fixed on the priest. "You weren't even here when the Honour Guard waged their war against these bastards. We… the Honour Guard… are descended from the warriors of Demos. They showed no mercy when they massacred our brothers."

"Just as Pengallia showed no mercy when she slew theirs."

"Exactly. And yet you say it was her wish that there was peace between our races? What kind of addled talk is that?"

"The truth."

"Truth? I'll give you truth. This so-called peace has been a sham. Its time to get rid of the squids once and for all. Before they get rid of us."

Gesar shook his head. "That's just two million years of prejudice talking."

Behind them, Councillor Erkal stepped forwards, placing himself between the two men.

"The length of time is irrelevant," he said. "The men of the Honour Guard, and of the city, aren't descended from Pengallia's Myrmidon. They are the Myrmidon. The same men who first set foot on this world two million years ago."

Aldus sneered. "So you say, Erkal."

Erkal continued, turning to the abbot. "That's why the hate is so strong. These men may have had their memories crushed by perpetual regeneration, but they know they have cause to hate. They just can't remember why."

"I remember why," said Aldus. "I have nightmares. Visions. They used to be of the war… of the time we invaded. Now they're different."

"Different," Erkal was intrigued. "How?"

He has visions of Pengallia, don't you sheriff?

It was K'thellid. Like Erkal, K9 and the protector had moved forward to join the parlay, while the circle made by the Honour Guard closed in, its men ready to quell any sign of resistance. Aldus' eye opened wide at the k'thellid's words.

"How could you possibly know that?" He asked, as realisation dawned upon his face. "It's you! You've been planting these visions in my mind, making me question my motives."

Reaching forwards, Aldus unhooked the weapon slung over his saddle. It was a force-axe. As sharp as it had been when in last cut through k'thellid flesh, two million years ago. As he closed on Protector K'thellid, a burst of crimson energy struck the blade of his force-axe. Superheated by K9's laser, the red hot weapon flew from Aldus' grip. As it hit the ground, a small fire ignited, hissing as the driving rain quickly reduced it to a smoking patch of charred earth.

"Stand back," commanded K9, his nozzle fully extended. "This unit is authorized to use lethal force."

That will not be necessary, thought the protector, I am more than capable of protecting myself.

"We'll put that to the test soon enough," said Aldus, steadying his steed and extending his hand to stop the other members of the Honour Guard from reacting. "You can't stop us from killing you."

That would be premature, the protector continued. We do not need to be enemies, Aldus. If the abbot is prepared to overlook your transgressions, we can resolve this with a meeting of the Council of Elders when we reach the monastery. We need to reach the shrine before the carnifex destroys us all.

"The Doctor, you mean?" Aldus laughed. "He doesn't want to hurt anyone. If he did it would make my life easier. You're my prisoners, and I don't see why that should change. And I'm certainly not about to give up the advantage for the sake of a vote."

"Aldus, this is all a mistake," Gesar urged. "There's no need to do this. We need to get to the shrine."

"We will," said Aldus, motioning for his men to create a gap for the party to continue on its way up the mountain. "But only because I want answers from the Doctor."

As he busied himself with adjustments to the Oculus, the Doctor whistled a very old, very bawdy, and very out of tune naval ditty. As well as generating heat, the Oculus was also responsible for venting it. As a hollow world heated by the phantom sun that enveloped it, K'thellid was in constant danger of overheating. Only by diverting its heat back outside could the Oculus maintain the temperate climate which allowed life to survive in its ecosphere.

"There," he proclaimed, passing the sonic screwdriver back to Romana before transmitting the last of his adjustments to the stellar manipulators. "That should do the trick."

Pocketing the device, Romana craned over the Doctor's shoulder to examine the quality of his work. "Not bad, I suppose. What do you have planned for an encore?"

The Doctor flashed a smile. "I was thinking of composing a paper on perpetuated thermodynamics," he replied, "but first I need to slave the Temperlost to the TARDIS, so that when we finally leave, the Temperlost and the fleet can too."

"Excuse me," said Teyamat, who had been struggling to follow their conversation. "How can the Temperlost go anywhere without its exterior?"

"She's right," Romana agreed. "The Oculus and Pengallia's sarcophagus are all that's left of the outer shell. It can't leave the Well of Deep Time without destroying the sun and unleashing K'thannid."

"K'thannid?" The Doctor frowned. "I'd completely forgotten about him. He really can't be very happy wrapped up in the Oculus. Perhaps we should just release him."

"What?" Romana raised both eyebrows as her jaw dropped open." You can't release him. He's a Great Old One. An enemy of the Time Lords."

"Oh, we shouldn't hold that against him. We've all been there. Besides, he and I are old friends."

"Good for you," she replied. The Doctor had said something about that before. Romana had dismissed it as an empty boast at the time, but now the comment took a different turn. "He and I appear to be old enemies. His powers were been stolen by Pengallia."

"Are you sure?" The Doctor seemed surprised by the revelation.

"Absolutely," she nodded. "She gave his powers over the Time Lords when she defeated him."

"Interesting…" the Doctor paused, deep in thought. "I think he and I need to have a little talk."

"Talk? What about?"

"History needs to be preserved, Romana. Pengallia's fleet must be able to invade Gallifrey."

"You don't need to release K'thannid to do that," she replied. "Your TARDIS has some spare outer shells doesn't it?"

"A few…" the Doctor considered the suggestion, "but they're all beyond repair."

"The Temperlost has a crucible chamber. It's how Pengallia created the Oculus in the first place. If you could donate a couple of old shells we could forge a new exterior without compromising releasing K'thannid."

"That's fine in principle," said the Doctor, "but do you actually know someone with foundry experience? Modern TARDISes are formed by block transfer. They don't need the old-style crucibles."

"Pendar," Romana smiled.

"Who?"

"Forge Master Pendar." She turned to Teyamat. "Is he still on K'thellid?"

"Yes," the crone smiled, "he's one of the Madronites."

"Excellent," the Doctor clapped his hands together. "I have a plan. But first I need to see a god about a man. If I can persuade K'thannid to let the fallen fulfil their destiny, then the k'thellid can live in peace. Everybody wins!"

"You can try." Romana sighed. "But he's been imprisoned for two million years. He may not be in the best of moods." It was good to see the Doctor's mood back on track, and there could be no harm in him talking to K'thannid.

"Two million years is just the blink of an eye to a god. I'm sure he'll be fine."

"Just promise not to do anything until we've talked further."

"That coronet is going to your head," he beamed, striding off towards their observation capsule with wave of his stick. "See you in a bit."

"Is he serious?" Teyamat asked, scrunching up her empty nacho bag. She had been a quiet observer since the Doctor had joined them, and Romana realized that she might be jealous of the attention he was getting.

"Talking to gods is one of the Doctor's specialities," mused Romana. "We're in the middle of running away from the last one he spoke to. I just hope he has better luck with this one."

"K'thannid was supposed to be a reasonable god," said Teyamat. "Not like his brothers C'thulhu and Ullathris."

"If that's true, it doesn't make Pengallia sound very reasonable. Does it?"

"You couldn't understand," mused Teyamat. "The burden of responsibility sometimes forces you to make decisions you might otherwise regret."

Romana considered Teyamat's words. Was she speaking from personal experience, or from her time as Pengallia's right hand? It was time to ask the question.

"If you were really that close, why won't you tell me what happened to her? Did Pengallia stay, or did she leave?"

"It's not that simple," the old woman answered sheepishly. She was clearly uncomfortable with Romana's line of questioning.

"Getting a straight answer from you never is."

"Well…," Teyamat paused, considering her words more carefully, "when you've walked the Eight Fold Path, both choices become possible."