I'm reminded of the old insult, 'Take a long walk off a short pier.' And if you don't know who Robert Redford is, ask your mother. Tegan's a girl of the 80s, ya know.
Turlough had been the evil genius behind lunch. It was his fault Tegan found herself sitting with the Doctor, Turlough, and Lady Flavia. Tegan found Lady Flavia extremely intimidating. She respected the Chancellor, but Flavia was the concentrated essence of every terrifying headmistress Tegan had ever known. One year spent in boarding school had apparently scarred her for life.
According to Turlough, that bastard, Lady Flavia had asked for Tegan specifically, "Because she wants to get to know you better." All right, maybe it wasn't Turlough's fault, but he was sitting opposite her and it was convenient to blame him.
At this moment, wishing she had a clean handkerchief and sure that her make-up was smudged, Tegan found those words the most terrifying in the universe. "I was never very good in school," Tegan had to admit under that serenely inexorable gaze. "I kept losing my temper." She felt like her temper was actually an incontinent, yapping terrier that had just piddled on Flavia's floor.
"Not everyone has a scholarly turn of mind. Indeed, many Gallifreyans turn to practical skill sets, and Gallifrey would be lost without them," Lady Flavia said kindly.
"Tegan's quite a good artist," the Doctor ventured. Somehow, during the course of the meal, his end of the table had become distant as if he could affect space itself with his longing to escape. Of course, Tegan could simply be projecting her own desire.
Tegan attempted to wear a modest expression on the Flavia side of her body, and mount a death stare assault on the Doctor's side. Turlough, sitting opposite, looked alarmed at this incipient psychotic break and smiled weakly. "Yes, she is," he said.
"Turlough does wonderful sketches," Tegan said, sprinkling her words with powdered sugar and a hint of arsenic. "I hope you didn't leave that sketchpad on the Eye of Orion, Turlough."
"Er, I'm not sure," Turlough said, and she could see him frantically wondering which outcome would be better for him.
"The art of music has long been favored on Gallifrey. The mathematical properties of music have been celebrated since the time of Rassilon," Lady Flavia informed her.
Rassilon was as good a conversation ender as Hitler. Tegan's mind was blank. She looked to the Doctor, imploring him to break the silence.
He smiled at her and attempted a rescue. "Lady Flavia is right, but don't be alarmed. While there are a few minor works along the line of 'Ode to the Hypotenuse,' our finest composers have found inspiration in the mathematics of nature. I must find a recording of Tersuborin's Spiral Symphony for you. It's based on the Fibonacci sequence, Tegan, which is often found in natural symmetries such as the spiral of a shell, or the seed head of a sunflower. To enjoy the Spiral Symphony requires no knowledge of math at all, only of beauty."
Tegan loved that the Doctor always assumed that she was capable of appreciating the wonders of the universe. Sometimes she had pretended not to care simply to make him try harder to impress her. Looking back, she wondered if that perverse pleasure was born from the Mara's influence. Even if that was the case, she was stuck with the memories. "I'll have a listen," she said, trying to keep it light. It sounded flippant instead, and she tried to convey with her eyes that she wasn't merely humoring his suggestion.
Turlough said something to the Doctor about Trion music. Tegan didn't catch it because Lady Flavia was asking what an air hostess did. The Doctor would probably object if Tegan stabbed Flavia through the hearts with a table knife. Of course, as lunch consisted solely of food pills and fruit drinks, there were no knives available. Lady Flavia would never know how narrow an escape she had. It was just as well. She wasn't sure the woman had meant her questions in any mean spirit.
- o - O - o -
The Chancellor had detained her at the end of lunch. "May I have a private word?"
"Certainly, Lady Flavia," Tegan said, as civilly as possible. She did not want to get on the wrong side of this woman if she could help it.
"I understand you had a disagreement with the Castellan. I wished to know if you desired to lodge some complaint."
Tegan's eyes narrowed. "No. I've no complaint. He was doing his job."
Flavia raised an eyebrow. "I'm relieved to hear it. I thought there might be some issue of privilege that I could clarify. You could apply to the Lord President, of course, but he has never had much care for regulations. Others are less successful than he in evading the consequences."
Tegan bristled. "Is that a threat?" she demanded.
"No, my dear, a warning, and one intended for your own good. The Doctor acted outside law in bringing you and Turlough with him. It was a calculated political act. In my short acquaintance with the two of you, I have learned Turlough has political acumen that you lack."
"That's true enough," Tegan admitted. "You're worried I'll embarrass the Doctor and damage him politically, aren't you?"
"In truth, you've stayed out of politics in so far as that is possible for one in your position. I think you have done well. I can only advise you to choose carefully which battles to fight."
"Thanks, I think."
- o - O - o -
When Tegan returned from lunch, she had a message from Keludar.
'If you will favor me with your company, meet me in the Panopticon in the mid-afternoon. Your tour of Gallifrey cannot be complete without a trip up the Spire.'
Favor. There was that word again. Keludar liked having her in his debt a little too much for her liking. Tegan remembered Flavia's advice and got a firm grip on her tolerance. Maybe it was more serious an obligation here than it was in her culture. For instance, mid-afternoon referred to a specific hour here. Gallifrey was a punctual planet, so mid-afternoon meant he'd be there waiting for her at the local equivalent of 2:45 and she had until 3 to meet him, but the polite thing to do would be to meet him at 2:45 exactly.
"Gallifreyans," Tegan muttered. She decided to change clothes. Gallifreyans had little variety in their dress. She hoped that her wearing different outfits gave them a tiny feeling of uncertainty. That wasn't picking a fight; it was returning the favor.
- o - O - o -
Tegan looked up. She couldn't see the top of the shaft. It was so high it narrowed into indefinite shadow. "So you want us to attach ourselves to this cable by these lift belts and ride all the way up there?"
"That's the idea." Keludar waved the lift belt in her direction.
She wasn't taking it yet. "And what's up there?"
"The top of the Citadel. The height of Gallifrey's power and the best view of the Capital, the Citadel, and this continent. There are taller mountains, but if you go to the top, what will you see? A lot more mountain and some horizon. And of course, the Spire is out of bounds."
"Why is that?"
"There's no oversight. It's one of the few places you can go where you can't be seen or monitored in any way. Short of going Outside, that is. Even there, you could be seen by orbital surveillance systems. Going up the Spire is an Academy tradition."
Tegan took the lift belt. She wondered if Professor Omicron knew about this custom. He might like to fly beneath security 'radar', but she couldn't imagine him hooked to a lift belt and floating up a cable in his robe and cowl and stole, looking like a parade balloon. "How does this work?"
"The lift belt is a personal antigravity device, but it doesn't provide propulsion. The cable allows us to control our ascent and descent. Even if somehow you became detached from the cable, the lift belt would see that you float slowly back down." Keludar strapped the belt around his waist. Then he jumped up into the air, easily three times Tegan's height, and floated back down. His robe billowed up around his knees revealing the narrow cut trousers that were customarily worn under the robes. His feet touched the floor soundlessly. Indeed, he didn't quite seem to touch the ground. "The belt projects an energy field three meters high that provides a personal microgravity environment. They're used for training people to work in space." He tilted his head and regarded her with one of his mocking smiles. "Shall we?"
"All right, then. If it's so safe, why not?" Tegan strapped on her belt. The arrangement of locking carabineers Keludar used to attach them to the cable reminded her of mountain climbing equipment. Lift belts would make climbing Everest a snap.
Keludar activated the cable lift device. Tegan felt a slight tug at the belt just before her feet left the ground. She clutched reflexively at his arm and he gripped her arm in turn. "It's easier if we steady each other. Do heights bother you?"
"Not if I feel in control. I don't feel like I'm rising. The last time I felt anything like this, I was piloting a glider making a descent."
"Maintain a local vertical. If you can define where 'down' is, you'll feel more comfortable. We're not doing microgravity maneuvering, but simply going up."
"What's the point of all this empty space, anyway?"
"This is the center spire. It's an architectural element that provides stability to upper parts of the Citadel."
Tegan remembered the mountain that had once been here. She wasn't a geologist or architect, but the idea of stability made a kind of sense to her. It gave her the feeling of standing with up stretched arms, so that she would have to balance herself with her feet set apart. "It makes me think of the Eiffel Tower. I always wanted to go to the top."
"Tell me of the Eiffel Tower."
"It's in a city called Paris, one of Earth's most beautiful cities. It's a freestanding tower of metal beams, all open work with only two platforms. It's more of an art object than a building."
The trip up took longer than Tegan could guess. They moved slowly, and their surroundings were monotonous. Though the space was getting narrower, when she looked down it seemed to narrow below as well as above her as the lines of perspective fooled her eyes.
Keludar was less talkative than usual. He responded to her readily, but seemed disinclined to start topics of conversation himself.
- o - O - o -
Tegan realized that the space around her was growing brighter. When she looked up, she was dazzled by sunlight. They rose into a space where great transparent panels let in the light. She felt like she was suspended in the open air, and all around below her were the spires of the Citadel. The lower peaks were beneath them, and as they rose higher, the other spires attenuated and dropped away. They were traveling to the highest point.
Not quite at the very top of the inside of the spire was a platform. Keludar swung them over so that they were standing on it, and detached their belts from the lift. It was a small space, but big enough for Tegan to feel there was something between her and the drop over the edge. The view was everything Keludar had promised. Here she stood above the Citadel, even higher than the garden, and looked down on the center of Gallifreyan life.
A low bulkhead provided a convenient spot to sit. Tegan put her nose nearly to the transparent wall so she could look down. She whistled. Seated next to her, Keludar was taken aback.
"Are you all right? What was that noise?"
"A whistle. It means I'm impressed." Tegan grinned at him.
"Do it again, please?" He watched her mouth as she whistled. When he imitated her, he only produced a puff of air, and Tegan couldn't help laughing at him.
"You have to purse your lips tightly and produce a strong stream of air. You ought to manage it with a little practice, if you don't mind looking like a fish." Tegan put her hands to her head for fins and puffed her cheeks out to perform the classic fish imitation.
"You don't look like a fish," Keludar assured her straight-faced. "Perhaps as a favor to me you might instruct–"
"Look, is this a Gallifreyan custom I don't know?" Tegan decided to drag it out into the open. "You seized on the idea of me owing you a favor; you even kept count. On Earth that's not considered very friendly."
"As the idea of owing me a favor so oppresses you, I shall call it in right now and we'll be done with it." Keludar's eyes sparkled. "I trust it will be no great effort on your part. I claim a kiss."
At first Tegan thought it was another of his jokes. Then she saw the eager light in his eyes and was instantly suspicious. "You had this in mind right from the beginning, didn't you? You saw Andred was happy and you wanted to know why. So I come along and you think this is your chance. If you hang around the savage female long enough, she'll come in to heat." Tegan fought to keep her voice under control. If she lost her temper, he wouldn't listen to her at all.
Keludar kept his face calm, but layered his words with more condescension than usual. "According to the available data on Earth, healthy adult human females are more or less constantly in heat. Of course, individual specimens may have low reproductive drives."
"I do not have a low sex drive, you nasty-minded git." Tegan clenched her fists. It was so tempting to storm away. Only, she'd done that far too often lately. She was tired of retreating, and up here, retreating meant a long drop into darkness.
Keludar smiled, that attractive expression of his that looked so genuine yet she could not bring herself to believe in it. "I could never think that of you like that. There's nothing cold about you, Tegan. Or should that be 'frigid'? No? Of course you are not. Obviously, your energies, your passions, are elsewhere directed."
"What? There isn't anyone. Not you, not Turlough, not Andred, Leela, a Shobogan, Professor Omicron, or the High Council."
"What about the Doctor?"
"He's part of the High Council, isn't he? And just in case that's not enough, not the Master or Omega or Rassilon. No. One."
"No Other?" His blue eyes laughed at a joke that went over her head. "You're not going to get kissed much with that kind of attitude," Keludar pointed out, putting aside the laughter and responding reasonably.
Tegan stared at him. The warm gush of anger drained away. "I'll live."
"For not nearly long enough. You're lying about that list, anyway. Why else should you look so sad? That's not indifference I see on your face."
She'd never heard Keludar speak so directly before, or be so open with her before. So what if he had this in mind all along? A handsome man wanted to kiss her. When had she become such a prude? The highly evolved Gallifreyan wanted to kiss the ape-girl. He cared about her answer.
"All right. Stay there." She stood up. He raised an eyebrow at her, and she explained, "You're too tall. You've never done this before, have you?"
"…" He opened his mouth as if to make one of his usual quips, but nothing emerged. Finally, something that could shut up gadfly Kel.
Tegan had to admit to a thrill of power. She felt like she had the upper hand, at least for the moment. She came closer and looked down into his face. Keludar was very handsome: male model, movie star handsome. It was like meeting Robert Redford and finding out he'd never been kissed.
Keludar stirred impatiently, his brows drawing together in a slight frown.
"What did you think was going to happen? That I was going to mash my mouth against yours? I'm not so sure you want to do this. It's very primitive," she taunted.
"I'm well aware of the physical aspects. You seem to be the more fastidious about it of the two of us."
"Shut it," Tegan said, and took her face between his hands. He froze in place. Had anyone ever touched him except perhaps a physician? She remembered the creche of the Looms. Here he was, older than her grandfather, and no one had ever patted him or hugged him. It was sad and horrible, and not conducive to kissing. Tegan was sure Keludar didn't want her to weep all over him. He had agreed to share spit, not snot. She had to smile. A human would have almost certainly smiled back. Keludar's mouth quirked, but his sapphire blue eyes stayed watchfully on her face.
"You really are shockingly good-looking, Keludar."
"I know," he said, and nothing more as she leaned in and pressed her lips softly to his forehead, like the mother no Gallifreyan had had in centuries. She tried not to think, but to feel him as she might any man she was kissing for the first time. She rested her warm cheek against his cool one. His eye blinked and she noticed he had thick blond lashes. She thought she saw surprise, but perhaps it was the reflection of an uncertain Tegan. Her smile pivoted across his cheek before she kissed the corner of his mouth.
Keludar tried to turn his mouth to meet hers, but she anticipated the motion and stilled his head with her cupped hands. "No. We do this my way, or not at all." Tegan leaned in closer and rubbed noses with him. She giggled at his startled expression, and then brushed his lips with hers. His breath was sweet and his pulse beat against her little finger resting on his neck. He took hold of her waist to steady her.
He wanted, she needed; so she kissed him full on. She fed his innocent mouth with her frustration and her loneliness. With lips and tongue and breath, with no words at all, she told him what it was like to be human on this ancient world, beautiful but so cold.
When she drew back, she looked into his face. There she saw sensuality and many other shades of desire. Looking for something she could not name, she saw one thing she had no name for but chilled her blood. She stepped back from him, twisting away from the grip on her waist.
"Come back," Keludar said.
"No. No," Tegan said, and turned to the edge of the platform. She heard him stand up, and the need to be gone took over. She stepped off the platform. Like a mote of light, she floated down into the darkness of the shaft. Her hands covered her face, held her wet cheeks. She could not be afraid of falling when reaching the bottom was a longed for inevitability.
tbc