"With Ambirren and Keludar it's snipe, snipe, snipe, all the time cutting each other down. I thought the qualifying process for Time Lords was objective. Is there some sort of quota?" It had been worth the long trip to get to the distant region of the Citadel where Leela and Andred's apartment was located. The Doctor saw the interlocking complexities of issues; Leela could cut them down to their basics. Tegan liked hearing from both of them.
"They succeed, and fail, on their own merits," Leela confirmed.
"Time Lord candidates are under considerable pressure," Andred reminded them. "If they qualify, they will receive the Rassilon Imprimatur, which gives them the ability to regenerate and a far greater lifespan than any ordinary Gallifreyan. The closer the students get to the final evaluation, the more some of them act up. Usually it's some freakish prank. I understand that the Doctor's graduating class was notorious for the pranks they pulled. They are given a lot of leeway; after all, they are the future of Gallifrey. Sadly, some candidates have committed suicide on failure to qualify. That hasn't happened for a long time. Those who are so mentally unstable are weeded out far earlier."
Tegan sat up straight. Those would have been loaded words on Earth. "How much earlier?" she demanded. She could see right away that Andred did not like being pinned down on this question.
"I'm not a geneticist, Tegan," he demurred. "But of course, genetic patterns that give rise to inherent mental dysfunction are removed from the Looms. We can't condemn someone to be born flawed."
"But you are condemning them to not be born at all." Tegan couldn't help saying the words. "I can't believe it–sorry, I'm not blaming you. It's just that I can see you still have the same sort of problems even though your science is thousands of years ahead of Earth science."
"Millions of years," Andred corrected.
"Science is useful for many things, but it does not tell us what is right and what is wrong," Leela said solemnly. Not for the world would Tegan ever tell her that she sounded like a fortune cookie. Merely to be in the same room with Leela was like finding a foothold of reality in the landscape of a nightmare. It wasn't that what she said was so brilliant. She recognized and stated the obvious. Tegan used to think that was boring, but she was fervently glad of it now.
Leela was still speaking. "You should visit the Outside, Tegan. You would like that."
"Is that anything like the Outback?"
"It is the wilderness of Gallifrey. Those Gallifreyans who have chosen to separate themselves from modern society live there. Occasionally, people have been deliberately made outcast."
"Hippies," Tegan said without thinking. They stared at her, and she explained. "It's a term for people who choose to live a different lifestyle from the mainstream. They prefer a simpler life. You get people who choose out of principle, and then there are people who can't get along in the system for whatever reason."
"Here they are called Shobogans. Like the Citadel-dwellers they pursue wisdom, but they look within rather than without. If you like, I will arrange for you to visit them with me," Leela offered.
- o - O - o -
"I'd like that," Tegan said, even if she thought they sounded like a bunch of navel-gazers. "The Citadel may be as big as a mountain, but I'm feeling a little cooped up. A long hike sounds wonderful." Tegan eyed Leela's rangy form and hoped she could keep up with her.
Remembering the maps she saw on display in the Academy library, Tegan paid a visit. The section she wanted contained antique works. It held everything from stone tablets and parchment scrolls to metallic objects that reminded Tegan of transistors. She was glad to find the area quite deserted, so she could be ignorant in solitude. The maps were beautifully detailed, but of little use to her. She'd thought she'd be able to spot the Citadel, but she could not make it out. The labels were in a script that did not transform into English for her eyes.
"Old maps are the landscapes of our memories, reminding us that the route into the past is not merely a matter of travel by time capsule. I always think they're lovely."
Tegan looked up. Standing across the map table from her was an elderly man in a blue robe. Yellow embroidery edged the hems with the pattern of the seal of Rassilon, a design that had already become familiar. He wore a golden skullcap and a heavy stole that weighted his shoulders to a stoop.
"They're incredibly detailed. I could imagine stepping onto them and finding myself in the real location."
"What a droll notion, a map as a key for a transmat portal. Delightful. Pardon me, my dear young lady, but you are an alien, are you not?"
"Yes, I'm human, from the planet Earth." Having heard no insult in his words, Tegan relaxed.
"Ah, yes, such a pretty little planet, with all that ocean. I've never understood why you call it Earth. Surely it's more water." He peered at her, then smiled. "How rude of me not to introduce myself. I am Omicron, Professor Emeritus of galactigraphy and related sciences."
"I'm Tegan Jovanka. I'm… a guest of the President."
Professor Omicron's eyes narrowed in their deep pits. His eyebrows bristled. "I had thought Morbius was banished–good riddance, I said, I remember it clearly."
"Um, sorry, don't know any Morbius. The Doctor is the President now." Tegan wasn't sure what he was talking about, but he was clearly upset by it.
He immediately relaxed. "Oh, good. I hope you're being treated well? Gallifreyans have a sad tendency to think of other sentients as savages hardly past kindling fire."
"I've noticed. Now, what is galacky… gala…"
"Galactigraphy is the mapping of the continually shifting relationships of galaxies, their stars, and the worlds that orbit them. We call it that, galactigraphy, because the universe is even larger than Gallifreyan conception." He put his hand flat on the map. "See how I cover vast spaces with my hand, yet it is no more within my grasp than if I held it up to the sky and covered the stars. There is no universography." He chuckled. "Universography, such an awkward word."
"But the Gallifreyans, the Time Lords… if you can time travel, can't you really go anywhere? To the other side of the universe if you wanted?"
The Professor stroked his stole. "If you trace a path from one side of this map to the other, where will you end up?"
"If it's a flat projection of the world, you'd end up where you began. Are you about to go into all that about the universe being curved? Because that makes my head ache."
"Then perhaps we shan't talk of it, if it troubles you. Is there some research I may assist you with, my dear?"
"Who is Morbius?" Tegan wondered vaguely if that was the Master's real name.
"Someone best forgotten. Now, why were you looking at maps?" The Professor changed the subject firmly.
"I'm going to visit the Shobogans. I wanted to see what the land was like outside the Citadel, but I don't see the Citadel on any of these maps."
"They are too old. None of these maps represents the Citadel as it is today. However, the Citadel in an older form is on this very map. Right here." Professor Omicron pointed to a mountain. It was small and unlabeled.
"But I thought the Citadel was built entirely. I mean, all created by building up, not building onto something."
"That's true enough. This mountain no longer exists. It was consumed in the construction of the Citadel, which has roots that reach deep into the mantle. Visiting the Shobogans, eh? I used to do so as a young fellow, when going Outside was not so frowned upon. Now I'm past it–I feel the cold too much."
"So, go in summer," Tegan said, wondering if Omicron was actually a Time Lord. The Doctor never seemed bothered by the cold.
"There is no more summer for me, my dear, but only a lingering winter. This is my last regeneration, you see. Sometimes I think the only thing that keeps me going is the look of surprise on people's faces when they find out I'm still alive." A mischievous grin made his face wrinkle like a raisin. "Also, having a nice hot posset in the evenings. The sensation of warmth slowly seeping through my body is one I did not appreciate as a young man." He peered at her again. "Or perhaps I did, come to think of it. You are being treated politely? You're sure?"
"People are polite, yes, but you're kind." Tegan smiled at the elderly Time Lord. She didn't quite have the nerve to hug him, but his kindness warmed her the way his posset did him.
"It's not a well known practice these days, but worth cultivating. Now, come with me and I'll show you the land outside the Citadel as it is today, and where the Shobogan village lies. That is not on the official map, and I'm quite sure the Shobogans prefer it that way."
- o - O - o -
Despite his age, and Tegan couldn't bring herself to ask outright what that was, Professor Omicron walked with a steady stride. It was unhurried, but it got him places.
He showed her a projection, globe style, of Gallifrey, then narrowed it down. This wasn't a symbolic map, but a live representation of the world. Tegan felt like a giant whose great strides crossed valleys and rivers.
"Great Rassilon, he lives!" Keludar had come up behind them. He did like to surprise people.
Professor Omicron chuckled. "You never tire of that joke, do you? Of course, neither do I. I see you already know this, mmm, this lovely young lady. I hope someone has mentioned to you how lovely you are, Lady Tegan?"
The title startled Tegan right out of speech.
"I have, Professor. But better than being lovely, she is unpredictable. I never expected to find her here."
"Leela's taking me Outside. I wanted to look at the maps." Tegan wasn't sure how to respond to either of them, so she let the compliment pass.
Keludar raised an eyebrow. "You've only been here a few days. That's not nearly time enough to see the high points of the Citadel, and you already want to leave?"
"Leela made it sound very appealing," she said, not liking his tone.
"Leela, Leela, Leel–Ah! Yes, Commander Andred's lady. I thought I knew the name, but I haven't met her." Professor Omicron put his hand on her arm lightly, a brief touch that made her turn to him. "I want to reassure you that though I compliment your appearance I do not mistake the map for the territory." He smiled at her. "I have a feeling that should I come to know it, that I would esteem it greatly. I think I shall retire, now, but I hope that you will come to visit me after your trip and tell me how you fared."
"It would be an honor, Professor Omicron. Thanks for your help, you've been marvelous."
Out of respect, Tegan waited for the Professor to leave before her own departure. Keludar stayed her with a hand on her arm. "Old maps and wild lands? Don't you have such things on your own world that you need to seek them out here?"
Tegan frowned at him. "I like being out in the world. This place is one big hothouse. It might as well be winter all the time outside."
"Isn't it? It's certainly a cultural wasteland. This is Gallifrey, home of the Time Lords. There are noble savages living the primitive lifestyle on many worlds, but only Gallifrey is Queen of Time. There is so much more to see here, Tegan, than there is out there." His voice was impassioned, but Tegan didn't feel like buying what he had to sell.
"It will still be here when I get back, right?" She pulled her arm free and he did not try to keep his grip.
"Certainly. No matter how long you're away." That was nasty of Keludar, no doubt about it.
Tegan turned away, then right back. "Who is Morbius?" Keludar might be a child compared to Omicron, but she bet he'd know the name. She could tell by the way his face blanked that she was right.
"He's a proscribed topic," he said, glancing in the direction Omicron had gone.
"But wasn't he President, once," Tegan inquired slyly. "Isn't that a big chunk of history to ignore?"
"Ask your dear friend the Doctor, then," Keludar said, suddenly regaining his composure with a smile she did not trust in the slightest.
"So you mean you don't know? It's forbidden, so you've been a good boy and you know nothing about this Morbius?" Why was she badgering him? That was a good question. Why ask him to break a rule for her, when whoever Morbius had been could not possibly mean anything to her?
"Mmmm. Perhaps I should tell you what I know, simply to keep you from prying. For your own good, of course." Keludar paused, wearing a contemplative frown.
Or was that a pose, not a pause? Tegan's curiosity didn't care. "I'll owe you one," she said recklessly.
"As a favor to you, then. Morbius was formerly Lord President of Gallifrey. He was stripped of his rank and exiled. I'm not sure what they thought they were doing to exile a would-be conqueror. Shows a lot of concern for younger races, does it not? He promptly started a war, then the High Council had to catch him and execute him."
"That's… awful, but why is it a secret? Shouldn't he serve as an example of what happens even to an erring… President…" Tegan suddenly didn't like where this was going.
Keludar grinned at her. "It's not discussed, so I can't tell you their reasoning, but I think they didn't want him to be an example. It was never made public," he snorted cynically, "but Morbius used to select students for his sexual gratification. When Loomlings first leave the Creche, their minds are vulnerable to meddling."
Tegan was horrified. It had been a shock to realize Gallifreyans were sexual, even if they weren't very active about engaging in sex. To hear that a Time Lord could reach the highest office and pursue that level of vice was unthinkable. Worse, it was human, and it occurred to her that asexuality might be a good thing when applied to the habits of a race that could conquer known space.
"Maybe they didn't want the names of his victims known," she said dully. Keludar was no longer smiling; she might have had to hit him otherwise.
"I don't know. I'm a mere student. Ask your friend the President if you want to know more. And do enjoy your… visit to the Outside." Keludar sounded as if he had been going to say something more barbed, but let the opportunity pass. His remote gaze would have suited the statue of a Greek god. He took a step to leave, paused, bowed to her, and walked away.
Tegan thought of the map of old Gallifrey. Where she stood now had once been at the foot of a mountain. The Citadel had devoured the mountain, and whatever name the people of Gallifrey had given it in their youth was meaningless. The bones of the mountain still informed the spires raised by the Lords of Time. Secrets may remain unspoken, but not unknown.
tbc