Author's Note:
Hiya everyone! I'm back again with a new chapter, hopefully that makes people smile as much as it does me! The fact is, I love writing this fic, and I miss it hugely when I'm writing other things. Hopefully that isn't too weird.
Big thanks to the following people for their inspirational reviews:- SophieQueenOfTheWorld, EmmaMarie, AliBojanich, Push To Shove, GuesssWho, VampireKittiz, SawManiac211, MayFairy, Ahsilaa, MountainLord-92, Celestial Valkyrie, Dragoneisha, Theta'sWorstNightmare, TheWickedHeart, Geraldine, sailormajinmoon, Imorgen, Lost Moon, Beautiful Space (x 2), EDZEL2, JessieDear13 (x 3) and Aietradaea.
To Geraldine: Thanks so much, glad you liked the Medusa Cascade reference, I've been hanging out to unveil that one ;)
To Lost Moon: Bit more Team-Theta-Koschei in this one, so hope you enjoy. As for the ghost-Master, you may have to wait a little longer to find out what happened to him.
To Beautiful Space: Sorry to hear you weren't well, hope you feel better now :)
- Chapter Thirty One -
"This place is killing me,
Longer I stay, the more I can't break free.
Every second's ticking down to my death.
Getting so close, that I can't take a breath.
Walls closing in, pushing me to the unknown,
A wave of fear chilling me to the bone..."
- Walls Closing In by Agitator.
Hurriedly, Theta led the way back out into the dusty corridor outside the deserted study. Both his hearts were pounding uncomfortably fast. None of his previous pranks had even come close to preparing him for this. It was a huge responsibility to discover that at this moment, the fate of the entire Universe could be resting on his and Koschei's shoulders. He knew he should be terrified, but somehow he found himself feeling exhilarated instead. This was what life should be about – not being stuck in a dreary classroom learning theory after theory, with nothing to look forward to but a loveless marriage and a perpetually rule-bound existence, trapped on this stifling planet - but being out there and making a difference.
"Have you ever been to the Repair Docks before?" Koschei asked, as they re-entered the transparent transmat tube.
Theta removed the metal hatch concealing the matter transmission controls. "No, but I know where it is. It's not far from the Capitol buildings, at the centre of the Citadel. Should be easy enough to reach from here, if I can re-set the destination grid."
He pulled out his sonic screwdriver and began to work, disrupting the established transmat parameters and rapidly replacing them with his own. Beside him, Koschei fidgeted about, making it difficult to concentrate in the confined space. Theta was about to snap crossly at him, when he saw that his friend's eyes were fixed on the door leading back into the study. With some surprise, he realised that Koschei was genuinely anxious about leaving Kat alone. He couldn't recall the arrogant Heir of Oakdown ever troubling himself over a woman to this degree before. Koschei had never been one for romantic attachments. He was usually much more of a "love-'em-and-leave-'em" type, taking what he wanted from a sexual relationship and then moving on to the next one, without ever looking back. However, somehow, his involvement with Kat seemed to have brought out a protectiveness in him that Theta had never seen before.
"She'll be all right, Kos," he said reassuringly. "She's an experienced Time Lady, with very advanced skills. I get the impression that she can more than look after herself."
"Maybe," Koschei allowed. "But I don't think you understand how much psychic energy it took to do what she did, first saving my father's life in the ballroom, then destroying those creatures in the Adytum. It should have been impossible, but somehow she managed it. But what little energy she has left, she's channelling towards the baby, instead of retaining it for her own protection. Right now, she's totally vulnerable, Theta, and it worries me. I've redoubled my shielding of her presence within the psychic link, but if anyone happens to find her..."
"They won't," Theta replied emphatically. "No-one has any reason to look up here. And we'll be back to collect her in no time." Continuing to work on the controls, he shot a sidelong, curious glance at his friend. "You really care about her, don't you?"
"Maybe." Koschei's face hardened, a fleeting hint of jealousy darkening his blue eyes. "And so do you, right?"
"Yeah, I do. But not like that. It's...different."
"Different how?"
Theta shrugged. "I don't know, it's hard to describe. I feel comfortable with her, as if I've known her forever. I feel like I can trust her with my life. And I want to keep her safe, no matter what. But that's all. There's nothing else. Not like you mean, anyway." He slipped the screwdriver back into the pocket of his tunic. "There, that should do it."
Koschei handed him the hatch-cover to put back in place, his mind obviously still wrapped up in their conversation. "Who do you suppose she is, Theta? If she knows us in the future..."
"She knows me in the future," Theta replied. "She didn't say anything about knowing you."
"She didn't have to. I can feel it," Koschei retorted. "Besides, you and I are best friends. We're not likely to ever be too far apart, are we? If she knows you, she must know me."
"I don't know who she is. And maybe it's better if we never find out. We're not meant to know too much about our personal futures, it puts the whole causal nexus at risk. That's why anyone found to be breaking the Fourth Law of Time is supposed to be executed immediately, without interrogation, in case they reveal anything they shouldn't." Theta's gaze softened warningly. "Besides, it's not a good idea for you to get too involved with her, Kos. She's carrying another man's baby, don't forget. And no matter what happens, she can't stay here."
Koschei's lips curved in a cold, thoughtful smile. "You know what, Theta? Maybe the Laws of Time are overrated. We're supposed to be Time Lords. Maybe...just maybe...the Laws should be obeying us, instead of the other way around, have you ever considered that?"
Theta felt a little shiver at the base of his spine at the expression on his friend's face. Koschei scared him sometimes, when he got like this. It was as if he was seeing another side to the cherished companion he had known nearly all his life. A secret, hidden side. Someone dark and driven, restless and unsatisfied, someone willing to take whatever he wanted, without mercy or thought to the consequences, just because he could. It was only the occasional glimpse, just every now and then, and Theta usually shrugged it off as Koschei having a bad day. But lately, it had been happening more and more often, and it was starting to disturb him more than he liked to admit. And that was without even taking into account the so far unexplained bout of madness Koschei had apparently undergone back in the Adytum. Theta's multiple bruises were still aching from that savage, unexpected attack. He had seen Koschei's eyes change colour, from blue to whiskey-brown, just as Drax had described earlier. Not to mention all the off-the-wall things he had been saying...he'd told Kat she was his wife and that he would never allow her to leave. What the hell had any of that been about? Lusting after Kat was one thing – but to call her his wife... And now he didn't even seem to remember any of it. Was that a flow-on effect of the crack in time? Or was something else more sinister going on?
Uneasily, he forced his mounting worries about his friend to the back of his mind. He couldn't allow himself to be distracted from what they were supposed to be doing. One thing at a time, and one thing only. He would find a way to sort the rest out later.
"If we can't manage to halt this wave of entropy flowing across Gallifrey, none of us will have any sort of future left to worry about. So how about we just concentrate on that for the moment, all right, Kos?" he snapped. "Now, are you planning to stand there talking rubbish for the rest of the night or are you coming to the Repair Docks with me?"
Koschei grinned recklessly and all at once, in the blink of an eye, Theta's best friend and co-conspirator was back again, as if he had just imagined the rest. "You don't think I'm going to let you have the fun of stealing a TARDIS all by yourself, do you? Hurry up then, what are you waiting for? I want to do this and then get back to Kat as soon as possible."
Theta was left wondering whether Koschei had even heard a word he'd said. One problem at at a time, he reminded himself firmly again. Reaching out, he released some of his frustration and anxiety by slamming the red activation button hard. All around them, the air began to shimmer, as the instantaneous matter transmission commenced.
The ballroom was still a complete and utter shambles. Emergency lighting had been restored, and the majority of the students evacuated from the immediate area, but the med-techs were still busy treating the injured. A constant stream of anti-grav stretchers ferried the most badly wounded to the Infirmary, where additional medical personnel had been summoned from the Citadel to assist the Academy healers in handling the unprecedented influx of emergency patients. A team of maintenance staff were busy clearing away the remains of the two giant chandeliers. It was already apparent that the ballroom would never be the same again. The priceless obsidian marble floor had been fractured beyond repair in several places from the impact of the falling monstrosities. As for the chandeliers themselves, they were lost forever, the shattered crystals far too old and too precious to ever replace.
Lord Oakdown oversaw the clean-up operation with an iron hand, a grim expression written across his face. It had been a day of mixed opportunity for the House of Oakdown. Granted, the Otherstide Ball had been an unmitigated catastrophe, thanks largely to his misbegotten cur of a son. Mocking and shaming his father by dancing the Great Dance with a servant girl in front of the cream of Gallifreyan society, and then, even worse, showing himself to be a traitor by helping that same girl escape, when she turned out to be not a servant at all, but a renegade Time Lady guilty of breaking the Fourth Law of Time. His ice-cold eyes glittered with suppressed rage. Once he got his hands on Koschei, he would teach him not to shame his House, a lesson his son would never forget. He would make the arrogant little shit suffer until he wished he had never been born!
However, making use of the superb self-restraint he had perfected over his long life, he reigned in his escalating temper, hiding it behind a smooth, impassive mask. He had too many enemies watching, too many people who would love to see his House fall. It would never do to allow any of them to see him lose control in public, whatever disgraceful antics his son got up to.
After all, he reflected, from a politician's point of view, the incident with the falling chandeliers had not been entirely calamitous. Unlike President Drall, he had escaped without a scratch and he flattered himself that he appeared at his absolute best in a crisis. Strong and sure leadership, that was what was required, that was what people remembered and respected. With the President in the Infirmary, suffering from combined shock and regeneration sickness, Chancellor Umbast was nominally left in charge. However, despite his high office, the basic truth was that Umbast was nothing more than a fat idiot. Lord Oakdown eyed the other man disparagingly as he paced back and forth, wringing his hands in despair, his piggy little face screwed up in helpless indecision. The ridiculous fool was grateful, so pathetically grateful, for Lord Oakdown's instinctive air of command and his decisive actions in resolving the current disaster. He was just crying out to be used and manipulated. And used and manipulated he would be.
Already arguably the richest man on Gallifrey, Lord Oakdown had no great ambition to be President. He had no interest in being dressed up and dragged out for boring ceremonial occasions, and still less in being subjected to incessant meetings and reports and statistics. Given the decadent life he chose to lead behind closed doors, it would never suit him to take on a position so completely in the public eye, and so utterly time-consuming into the bargain. No, he preferred to be the unseen power behind the throne, pulling all the strings, deftly influencing the decision-making where required to achieve his own ends. And with Drall out of the way, and with Umbast shaping up nicely to become the perfect puppet-President, it seemed his opportunity had finally arrived.
It was odd, though. He couldn't shake the feeling that someone was missing, someone else who should have been a contender for power, now that Drall was incapacitated. He kept looking around, as if he expected to see someone else taking charge, someone who should have been there, someone who had always matched and threatened his authority in the Inner Circle of the High Council. His eyes narrowed suspiciously as they swept the room, but nobody stepped up to challenge him in any way.
At that moment, Castellan Rannex arrived on the scene, interrupting his train of thought. Lord Oakdown only needed to take one look at the man's thunderous face to know that his mission had been unsuccessful.
"What happened, Castellan?" Umbast demanded. "Where is the girl?"
"She escaped, I regret to say, my Lord Chancellor," Rannex said, his tone vibrating with muted rage and frustration. "We used the psychic link to track her into the hidden tunnels from the Old Times, below the Citadel. All cerebral indicators showed that she was hiding in a small crypt, far beneath the Records Room. However, when we arrived, she wasn't there. All we could find were the remains of two strange metallic creatures not native to Gallifrey. I've ordered these remains to be transferred to the Citadel laboratories for analysis. Also, scans show an enormous discharge of temporal energy in the room. I have requested a team of technicians to investigate the cause. As for the girl, my men are searching the tunnels for her as we speak, but it isn't proving to be easy. Every time they succeed in pinpointing her location using the psychic link, she appears to slip away again."
Lord Oakdown gave him a brittle, supercilious smile. "You're wasting your time, Castellan. She's probably nowhere near the tunnels. This girl is obviously a Time Lady of no small ability. She has been hiding in plain sight for days, and none of us have suspected her in the slightest. I'm sure she is quite able to use the psychic link any way she chooses, to confuse and disorientate her pursuers. Not to mention the fact that, according to you and your men, my son is with her. The Heir of Oakdown isn't just clever, my lords, he's brilliant. He's been able to successfully pull off that particular cloaking trick within the psychic link ever since he was five years old."
Rannex inclined his head subserviently. "Then what do you wish me to do, my Lord?"
"You will do precisely nothing, Castellan," Lord Oakdown said, his voice calm and even. "You may safely leave the situation to me. One of my son's more regrettable characteristics is the tendency towards over-confidence. His arrogance is such that he often overlooks quite obvious deficiencies in his schemes. I am his father. I know his psychic signature almost as well as I know my own. If he is helping to shield the girl, I will be able to use that unique signature to trace her whereabouts. He may believe he's protecting her, but in reality he's doing nothing more than painting a giant target on her back. And once I find her, I assure you, nothing on this planet will be able to save her."
The TARDIS repair dock was a long, low room, bristling with technology. The walls and floor were pure white, the cold, clinical décor reminding Theta uncannily of the Infirmary back at the Academy. The only difference was, instead of treating sick and injured people, this area of the Citadel was dedicated to the repair of damaged time capsules.
Despite the dock being clearly labelled as a restricted area, they had quickly discovered that Kat was right about the lack of serious security. Apart from a patrol of bored guards that went by every fifteen minutes, and a couple of locked doors the sonic screwdriver had dealt with, there had been nothing to prevent Theta and Koschei gaining immediate access.
They stood just inside the main doors, concealed in the shadows, staring around the dimly-lit room in awe. Row after row of TARDISes stretched away from them, all of them with their Chameleon circuits de-activated, squat hulking silhouettes in the gloom. Each ship was isolated in a separate repair station, each one connected by brightly coloured cables to complex diagnostic computers, twinkling with lights. Neither of the boys had ever seen so many time capsules in one place at one time before. To be honest, they had rarely been permitted anywhere near a single TARDIS, let alone this many. Theta knew he shouldn't be enjoying this, but he couldn't help feeling a burst of pure excitement. The Academy simulators were one thing, but these capsules were the real deal.
Koschei obviously felt the same thrill, because he whispered gleefully, "It's almost too easy, isn't it? Why didn't we think of this before?"
Theta frowned, the lurking anxiety over his friend resurfacing all over again. Usually, Theta was the one that urged them onwards into mischief, because he was usually the one with the least to lose. However, since discovering the gut-wrenching truth about his father during their unauthorised expedition to Low Town, Koschei appeared to have thrown his usual caution over rule-breaking completely to the wind.
"Maybe because we're not that insane!" he hissed back.
Koschei gave a soft, derisive laugh that did nothing to alleviate Theta's concern. "Speak for yourself, Lungbarrow!"
Without waiting for a reply, he moved forward into the room, leaving Theta with no choice but to follow. Together, keeping all their senses on full alert, and watching each other's backs, they approached the nearest row of time capsules. Nothing stirred. They couldn't have chosen a better time to break into the dock. The aisles between the repair stations were silent and deserted. Usually, Theta supposed, this place would be a hive of activity, bustling with technicians at all hours of the day and night. But today was one of the few holidays of the Gallifreyan calendar that applied to absolutely everyone, Time Lord and Plebeian classes alike – apart from the domestic servants, no-one worked on Otherstide.
"It's like being handed one of those boxes of assorted sweets they make for the Festival of the Timewright," Koschei murmured, avidly surveying the waiting ships. "Each one more tempting than the last. So which one are we going to take?"
Theta entered the nearest station and stepped up to the TARDIS docked there. It was a sleek, modern Type-40. A sense of almost breathless anticipation filled him. He'd always wanted to see inside a Type-40, which was the most current model of time capsule in use on Gallifrey. Reaching out, he rattled the exterior doors, but they refused to open. Undaunted, he applied his sonic screwdriver to them, with still no result.
"Dead-locked!" he exclaimed in disappointment.
"Well, go on, open it with your fancy screwdriver!" Koschei urged.
"I've told you before, Kos, it doesn't do deadlocks!"
Koschei swore under his breath. "Typical! Sonic-bloody-screwdriver, what a waste of space. One of these days, Theta, I'm going to build a proper laser screwdriver, and show you how it's done!"
"So you keep saying!" Theta shot back irritably. "Maybe you should get on with it, instead of boring me senseless talking about it all the time! Meanwhile, at least we've answered your question about which TARDIS to take. The first one we can find that's unlocked."
"Assuming we can find one. What if they're all locked?"
Theta turned his back on the alluring Type-40 and hurried across to the next station, which contained a slightly more dated Type-35. He tried the doors, but again had no success.
"Kat says this is an established part of the history of her time-line. You and I steal a TARDIS from this repair dock and fly it to the Medusa Cascade ," he gritted out doggedly. "So here has to be one here somewhere we can get into, otherwise it could never have happened that way. You start checking the next row. And hurry! That security patrol will be back through here in a few minutes, and if their scanners pick us up, we're going to end up in a whole world of trouble."
"Yeah, like we're not already," Koschei muttered in a sarcastic tone.
Nevertheless, he crossed over to the next row of repair stations and began to systematically enter each one, trying the doors of each docked TARDIS he came to. Rapidly, Theta did the same down his own row. Ordinarily, dicing with the very real chance that they could be caught any second would have been part of the fun, adding to the thrill of the adventure. But this time, with Kat waiting for them back in that dusty old study, trusting them to return for her, everything was so much more serious.
At last, just when he was starting to doubt they would ever have any success, he felt a door yield to his hand. "Here, Kos!" he called jubilantly, keeping his voice low. "Over here!"
There was a bit of quiet scuffling and then Koschei rejoined him out of the gloom.
"Oh, you have got to be joking!" the dark-haired boy exclaimed in dismayed contempt. "You can't seriously think we're going to save the Universe in that old rust bucket? It's a museum piece!"
"It's not a rust bucket, it's a Type-30!" Theta retorted defensively. "It mightn't be the most modern TARDIS in here, but as long as it gets us where we need to go, who cares?" In the distance, the sound of voices and marching feet suddenly broke the stillness. "Besides, it's the only one that's not dead-locked and we just ran out of time. Come on!"
And, before Koschei could say another word, Theta grabbed him by the front of his white linen shirt and dragged him bodily inside the battered old TARDIS.
Lord Oakdown left Acting-President Umbast and Castellan Rannex to supervise the last vestiges of activity in the ballroom. Now that the immediate emergency had been dealt with, he trusted that their meagre abilities could stretch to managing at least that much. And if...no, when...he located the fugitive Time Lady, he didn't particularly want any of the other members of the High Council present. This was something he wanted to deal with on his own.
Flanked by two of the Chancellery Guard, chosen for their brawn rather than their brains, he stepped inside the transparent transmat cylinder. He was only superficially aware of his physical surroundings, his mind sunk deep within the psychic link. As he had told Rannex, it was theoretically possible to use his genetic connections to his son to trace Koschei's thought patterns within the link. However, it wasn't proving to be nearly as easy as he had anticipated. It appeared his son's talent for misdirection and manipulation had increased far beyond even his awareness. Nevertheless, with some considerable effort, he was eventually able to isolate a distinct concentration of familiar psionic energy, centred somewhere at the very top of the Academy buildings. Koschei was shielding something there, something he was very keen to keep anyone else from discovering.
"Got you!" Lord Oakdown thought in grim satisfaction.
To his surprise, the transmat didn't appear to travel as high as the penthouse level he required. It was as if the device refused to acknowledge that part of the Academy even existed. Lord Oakdown scowled in irritation. Shielding the girl with the psychic link was one thing, but how had they managed to tamper with the Academy's transportation system? Deleting all reference to an entire level of the building should be virtually impossible. It was as if it had never been there at all.
Pulling out his master over-ride key, issued to all members of the High Council, he inserted it into the console and manually entered the co-ordinates. The transmat shimmered and he found himself stepping forth into a stone corridor layered in dust. Lord Oakdown looked around him in astonishment. The place looked untouched, as if no-one had been there for centuries. Certainly, there was no sign of any recent visitors, no foot-prints or scuffle marks in the thick grey dust. And yet, something in the back of his mind insisted that he had been here before, and not long ago. He should know who had once lived here, up in this exclusive eyrie, high above the rest of the Academy. Someone he knew well, someone he had visited often. But, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember the person's name or bring their face to mind.
Then, as he and the guards walked forward into the corridor, he saw the dust shift to cover their own footprints, crawling and spreading along the floor like a living thing, and he suddenly understood.
Entropy dust. He had heard of it, but had never seen it before. Certainly never on Gallifrey. A shiver ran across his skin. Some sort of disaster had happened here, a significant degradation of the timeline. His temporal senses might have become somewhat blunted over the years, blurred by indolence and good living, but he had travelled the Time Vortex often enough in his day to recognise when something was wrong. No wonder the transmat had refused to recognise this level of the building – temporally-speaking, it had never even existed. What the hell has Koschei gotten himself into this time?
He strode across to the nearby door, followed by the guards, and pulled it open, careful not to make any betraying noise. He had expected to find his son and that cursed Lungbarrow boy in here, hiding away with the renegade female, but instead the room appeared to be deserted. It was an unnerving sight, an eerie ghost-study, bathed in the low light from the wall sconces, filled with lurking shadows. As one, the guards moved closer together and pulled their stasars. Lord Oakdown flicked them a look of cold disdain. Ill-bred cretins, he thought contemptuously. What they lacked in brains, they more than made up for with an instinctive talent for cowardly self-preservation.
Ignoring them, he walked further into the room, careful not to touch anything. That was when he saw the small, slender figure in the corner of the room. She was lying on the floor, her long, dark-copper hair spread out loosely like a halo around her still form. The creeping entropy dust surrounded her, moving and flowing in restless, trickling eddies, but didn't actually draw near to her, reminding Lord Oakdown of iron filings repelled from a polarised magnet – proof positive, if he had needed it, that she was an anomaly in this time-line.
With a surge of disgust, he realised that the spill of black velvet cloth covering her like a blanket was the formal tunic his son had worn to the Ball, the golden oak tree clearly emblazoned across it. The ancient, honoured symbol of his House sheltering a traitor and a renegade. Quivering with rage, he stepped even closer and crouched down close beside her, ready to snatch the tunic away. She was either deeply asleep or unconscious, because she didn't stir as he leaned over her. He saw that her cheeks were as pale as freshly blown snow, a sharp contrast to vibrant colour of her hair, and her breathing steady but shallow. Momentarily distracted, his eyes trailed over her unheeding face and down her body, trying to decide what his son saw in her, to risk so much. He himself preferred his women tall and full-figured, their abundant charms much more obvious than any possessed by this little scrap of a thing, with her tiny breasts and her slim hips.
However, the more he studied her, the more he realised that she did have...something. Perhaps it was her very smallness, those delicate features, that air of vulnerable fragility. Perhaps it was that glorious torrent of hair. Or perhaps it was just the fact that she belonged to his son. His eyes slid from her full lips down to the pulse that fluttered enticingly at the base of her throat as she slept.
How many times has Koschei used her, he found himself wondering, and how good did it feel?
To his surprise, he felt his anger transforming into a rush of hot desire at the thought, imagining the two of them together. Stretching out his hand, he ran his fingers in a feather-light caress down her cheek, savouring the softness of her skin, just as he assumed Koschei had done before him.
Oh yes, my son, I wonder, how good did it feel?
In response, she finally stirred, a troubled look passing over her face as she flinched instinctively away from his lustful touch.
"Koschei?" she murmured fretfully, her green eyes flickering open and staring up at him, still clouded with sleep and confusion.
"Guess again, my dear," Lord Oakdown said in a silky voice, watching as her gaze sharpened in shocked recognition and relishing the expression of utter horror that spread across her face. "Guess again."