Don't tell me a million year old race hasn't invented something special by way of hygiene arrangements
Leela and Andred walked her back to the Presidential suite. Tegan picked out the route, practicing what they taught her about the signs of status that marked the different areas of the Citadel. The Presidential suite was an entire residential block that had room for any retinue that a President might choose to gather around him, as well as apartments of state for visiting dignitaries. As Gallifrey no longer received ambassadors from other worlds ('not for millennia'), Tegan and Turlough had each been assigned a vast apartment.
Having made sure she knew how to contact them, Leela and Andred left Tegan at her door, which was guarded by a tall young Gallifreyan. His uniform was all white and gold, as ornate as a Royal wedding cake. His face was as blank as a bearskin-capped guard at the gates of Buckingham Palace. Rejecting the temptation to shake him or stamp on his foot to get some reaction, Tegan went into her enormous and fancy kennel.
It was so wasted on one Australian girl. If Nyssa had been with them, Tegan would have asked her to share. Two girls could have had pillow fights on the huge bed, or primped together in the vast bathroom. They could have tried on Gallifreyan styles. They could have had fun. Tegan had had to work on Nyssa quite a lot to get her to have fun. Now Nyssa was off curing lepers and Tegan was stuck here in a place where most people treated her as the Doctor's exotic alien pet.
- o - O - o -
Three days later, she was starting to get cabin fever. No one had been actively rude to her, but the level of polite which says 'go away, please' was wearing on her nerves.
Was it Freudian to spend so much time in the bathroom? Was she trying to get rid of a human stench so that a Gallifreyan would talk to her as if she were more than a semi-housebroken animal? Not that the bathroom wasn't interesting. It offered possibilities not far short of plastic surgery.
So here was Tegan Jovanka, primping in one of the fanciest, most thorough hygiene-fashion-therapeutic chambers ever devised for humanoid beings. Who would be the beneficiary of her efforts? Turlough? She could see his smirk hanging before her eyes. The Doctor? That white ball gown she'd once worn hadn't impressed him. She'd never looked better in her life. He'd been more interested in finding fresh celery for his lapel. Andred and Leela? She wasn't going to flirt with Andred; it was more than her life was worth to poach from Leela. And Leela wasn't particularly… girly. Tegan's looks would not impress Leela. Her gown had been dignified, simple, and comfortable. Tegan hadn't crossed all of time and space in high heels to be comfortable now. She had her principles.
Tegan puttered about, trying out options in the bath under the computer's indifferent guidance. She'd thought the Time Lords asexual, and maybe they were. But I thought Gallifreyans weren't interested in sex, she'd almost said. Of course, Leela and Andred weren't merely throwing knives together. They were obviously lovers, a mated pair, so sex was still something that happened on Gallifrey. As for the Time Lord elite, if their minds were so far above sex, why had they noticed her neckline?
Tegan regarded her naked body in the full-length wall panel. It wasn't a mirror. The view rotated showing her backside. She fluffed her short hair, pleased at the rich red highlights. She'd been washed, creamed, massaged, and polished until her skin gleamed like ivory satin. The cosmetics had been applied to her face with the mathematical precision of a Bach fugue. She could barely tell she was wearing any, the final effect was so natural. "What I want to know," she inquired of the unfeeling universe, "is why there isn't a bath like this on the TARDIS yet it has room for two swimming pools?"
The automated systems in here had no great appreciation of rhetorical questions. "The Lord President's time capsule is an obsolete type 40 device which lacks many amenities built into later versions." The digitized voice was low-key, like the voice of an extremely discreet butler.
"That's just like him."
Tegan wrapped herself up in a lovely plush scarlet dressing gown. It felt deliciously warm and soft against her freshly washed skin. She could tell she was going to get spoiled by all this luxury in no time flat, but she wanted it all the same. Tegan felt she was owed a little spoiling.
One large room of her suite had an actual window. She hadn't noticed it until she'd seen morning sunlight streaming through it. The panes were frosted. She bet the Presidential garden was on the other side. "So how do I get into the garden, then?" Tegan wasn't quite comfortable with talking to the computer. She felt a little too much as if she were talking out loud to herself.
An indicator light glowed discreetly over a doorway set into an alcove. Tegan opened the door and found winter on her toes.
- o - O - o -
White and still, the landscape spread before her. At first glance, it looked like a wilderness of snow-laden trees. Then she spotted the stone planters and benches. The formal garden elements were integrated into parkland. A flagstone path appeared before her feet, evaporating the snow and generating warmth her toes could feel. She stepped out onto the path and felt the stone as warm as a hearth when a fire is blazing, though her breath smoked on the air.
Tegan felt invited. The sky was cloudy, a golden grey like wood smoke. There was no wind. There was no other moving figure in the garden; to leave it thus would be depriving it of life. She walked out a few paces and looked over her shoulder. Only the highest spires of the Citadel topped the trees of this garden. Weren't they high in the air? She could see the suggestion of other doors leading out into this space. The garden must be available to all the apartments on this side of the Citadel.
There must be an edge. Tegan didn't want to walk in the snow, but she tried to indicate by walking on one side of the stones in which direction she wanted to go. The systems in this place were designed to anticipate need, and the path obligingly opened itself. It wound through the trees. They parted onto a snowy overlook with a vista of mountains.
Tegan had never been afraid of heights. She walked to the ornamental fence at the edge of the drop and sat on the rim to look down. The stone warmed under her bum. She must be at least a thousand feet up, and far below her were other such open spaces riding the shoulders of the Citadel. None were above. Here she stood at the height of Gallifrey's power, on sufferance of the Doctor's authority.
She felt very tiny. She felt a little dizzy. And she had a perverse urge to spit. It was very cold, but the chill was only now starting to creep up past the hem of Tegan's robe. After a couple of minutes more her skin shivered into gooseflesh.
Try as she might, she could not spot anyone moving below. Weren't the citizens at all interested in the outside? How could they live without windows?
Footsteps approached her perch. "You needn't be afraid of falling. There's a force screen."
"Good morning, Turlough. Lovely view. Presidential, even."
"And cold. What are you doing out here not even dressed? I came to find you."
"What for?" Tegan turned around, leaning back on her hands a little. She was sure there was a force screen there, but she'd always loved to be up high ever since her first airplane ride and the absence or presence of the force screen did not concern her.
"You have a visitor. One Keludar of the Patrexeans, who has offered to take us to visit the Academy."
Tegan blinked. Keludar did not lack for nerve. Then she blinked again. "Take us?"
"Very friendly chap. Acted like you and he were already best friends." Turlough leavened his words with generous irony.
"I only met him once, when I was out with Andred and Leela." Oo, mistake. Turlough could scent defensiveness like a shark did blood.
"He only asked for you at first, but included me as well, since I was there and the Doctor seemed rather doubtful."
Tegan's chin jutted out. "He asked the Doctor for permission?" She didn't know quite why she was angry, and she didn't care to examine the reason, but angry she was.
Turlough rubbed the corner of his jaw. "I believe he said something about wishing the Doctor to be sure you–we--had adequate escort."
Tegan stood up and started walking back to her suite. "And what did the Doctor say?"
"He was a little surprised, but he thanked Keludar for making the offer as he wasn't sure when he'd have time to do it himself." Turlough followed her. "So you don't wish to go? The Academy sounds like it would be one of the more interesting places to see on Gallifrey."
"Oh, I want to go all right," said Tegan grimly. "I'll be out as soon as I'm dressed. I won't be long."
"All right then," Turlough said. He sounded distinctly amused. Tegan would have tried flinging a snowball at him, but Turlough was skilled in ducking. No point, really.
- o - O - o -
Back in her room, Tegan ceremoniously addressed the magic closet. "I need something to wear to visit the Academy."
The door panel glowed into life with an image of her wearing a skirt and jacket outfit of deep red trimmed at sleeve and skirt edge with a narrow band of tawny fabric of a matte texture like suede or velvet. The image rotated, showing that the jacket had an attached hood lined with the same material. When it showed the front again, the jacket was open revealing a cream colored shirt. The skirt was long, flaring below the knees, and paired with ankle boots.
"Higher heels, and I'll take it," Tegan said, determined to add her signature touch to Gallifreyan style. The door slid open and the closet produced the outfit shown. There weren't any undergarments offered; there never were, and Tegan kept finding her imagination wandering to what various Gallifreyans were (not) wearing under their clothes.
The shirt felt especially pleasant against her bare skin. The fabric had a silky quality and the cut subtly flattered her build. It was tempting to wear it without the jacket, but Gallifreyans seemed to regard the lack of layers of clothes to be the mark of a savage. There were limits to how far she was willing to go to fit in, but it hadn't been a week yet.
"Play them close to the vest," she told herself wryly, fastening up her jacket. She put on the boots and walked a few steps to test the fit, the footing, and the give of the skirt. Tegan fluffed her hair and went out to meet her escort. And Turlough.
There was a common antechamber to their set of suites. Turlough and Keludar were there talking together when she joined them. "Sorry to hold you up. I wasn't expecting anyone this morning."
Keludar smiled at her. "When one plans a surprise, one should be pleased that the surprisee is indeed surprised. There are so few surprises on Gallifrey, that they are undoubtedly worth waiting for."
Turlough raised both eyebrows to maximum incredulity level, and Tegan had to work hard to ignore him.
tbc