They found Talor's body in a damaged lift near Beta Sector. The Guard were doing their best to keep the investigation quiet until they had more information, but since Damon was very possibly the last person to see him alive, they'd had to tell him something when they interviewed him. It seemed the poor man had been caught in the lift when it experienced an unexpected power failure and the normally technologically adept Matrix technician had been fatally electrocuted while trying to make repairs.
The scenario struck Damon as being far-fetched and rather conveniently timed when one considered what Talor had discovered not long before his death. Anyone might have overheard him attempting to contact the Castellan regarding the unauthorised biodata transmission they'd intercepted. The incident had happened when Damon's shift was nearly over, so he'd bid the senior technician good evening shortly after his return from the Castellan's office and came back the next morning to find Talor missing and several console circuits fried by some sort of energy overload. He'd been concerned for the other man's well-being, but unsure of whom he could trust and then Commander Maxil's sudden appearance, demanding the immediate recall of the Doctor's TARDIS, had delayed any inquiry into his coworker's whereabouts until it was too late.
If his instincts were correct, and Talor had been killed to prevent his exposing the traitor on the High Council, it would be unwise to admit to anyone what he knew. Certainly not before he had solid proof, and the only piece of evidence they had was currently in the Doctor's possession. Damon lied carefully to the investigators, omitting any reference to biodata in his account of his movements the day before.
None of the guards he spoke to seemed eager to believe that foul play had been involved, but neither had they any good explanations for why Talor hadn't simply regenerated if it'd been a genuine accident. When they finished with him, Damon was informed that his duty schedule had been cleared for the week and advised to go home and stay out of trouble. Having dealt with Maxil's volatile temper far too many times in the past several hours already, he left the security compound without further complaint.
On his way back to his quarters, Damon considered his next actions. The investigators had interrupted his search of the Matrix for the information he'd been tasked with researching and now he had no way of continuing until they allowed him to return to work. And though they'd been successful in preventing the Doctor's execution by using the chameleon arch, the security guarding his ship had been increased as a result. Damon had no way of sneaking in to install the fresh space-time element he'd procured for him; he'd need the cooperation of someone on the Guard to get access to the TARDIS.
A fragment of a conversation he'd had earlier flickered through his mind and it occurred to Damon that perhaps he did know someone who might be able to help. With a furtive glance behind him to be certain that he wasn't being followed, he hurried off in search of this potential ally.
The Doctor and Nyssa might have slept several hours, secure in the unconscious knowledge of each other's presence, had such a luxury been afforded them. Unfortunately, what Gallifreyan society considered acceptable hours for social calls were not particularly accommodating to Trakenite biorhythms; fewer than three hours passed before a door chime disrupted the peaceful silence of their bed chamber. They both stirred reluctantly at the sound, but neither woke immediately.
Awareness returned gradually for the Doctor, tempered by a strong desire to remain blissfully unaffected by the rest of the universe for a little while longer. Nyssa lay pressed against his side, head resting on his shoulder, left arm curled possessively around his waist, steady heartbeat matching his own, soft curls fluttering on his chest with every exhaled breath. Shifting slightly to free his arm from the bedclothes, he trailed a hand gently over the smooth skin of her back and down her hip, smiling drowsily at the contented hum she made. His fingertips prickled pleasantly in response to the empathic echo that accompanied the action.
Whatever the consequences might be later, he couldn't regret what they'd done just yet. Her presence felt surprisingly right, as though a long-missing piece had been slotted back into his life unexpectedly. Whether that was due to the influence of powerful hormones acting on his brain chemistry or the reemergence of repressed sentiment, he didn't think the feeling would last. Guilt or worry would catch up with him eventually, but perfect moments were so few and far between in his hectic life; he wanted to savour this one for as long as he could. He placed a soft kiss on her forehead and allowed himself to imagine making this a regular occurrence.
Lulled by the comfortable bed and soothing embrace of his companion, the Doctor nearly drifted off again, only to be interrupted by the return of the musical chime. He frowned and muttered disapprovingly at it without opening his eyes. In his groggy condition, the significance of the sound didn't register in his mind until he heard a faintly familiar voice call out his name from the other room.
Startled into actual alertness, he sat up quickly only to be reminded of the compromising nature of the position they were in. In their post-coital bliss, neither of them had spared a thought for the morning after, when the council finally elected to speak with them again and inevitably came calling. Were anyone to walk in on them right now, it would take very little imagination to guess how they'd spent their downtime, even a Time Lord of the High Council might manage it.
Disturbed by the sudden intrusion on their little bubble of privacy as well, Nyssa clutched at the blanket half-draped across their hips, pulling it up to cover herself reflexively.
"Be with you in just a moment," the Doctor called to their visitor through the – thankfully closed – bedroom door. His creative escape from execution was already making the rounds as the hot topic of conversation on Gallifrey; he didn't particularly want his private affairs adding to the Capitol gossip.
Groping blindly at the wall for the button to switch on the light, the Doctor scrambled off of the bed in search of their clothes, which had ended up scattered about the room. Handing her the pair of velvet trousers he'd retrieved from the floor, he whispered to Nyssa that she could retreat to the bathroom while he dealt with their unexpected guest. She nodded and slipped past him as he struggled to pull on his trousers and shirt as swiftly as possible, not doing too neat of a job of it. Fortunately, the cricket jumper was thick enough to hide the worst of the wrinkles and missed buttons. And he had actually bothered to hang up his coat before retiring, so that wasn't rumpled at least. Finally, after few deliberate swipes at his mussed hair in a futile attempt to tame it, he decided he was probably presentable enough face company.
He sighed and made for the door reluctantly. Behind him, he could hear the snap, hiss of the shower in the bathroom activating.
At his touch, the circular door slid open to reveal a stately figure wearing the scarlet robes and skull cap of an Academy instructor loitering in the entryway of the apartment. The man with rather distinguished facial hair was regarding an abstract sculpture that bore a superficial resemblance to an ill-conceived hat rack with a faint air of contemplation. The Doctor groaned internally, recognising him.
"Ah, the prodigal emerges at last!" the man greeted him cheerfully, stepping forward. "I've interrupted your beauty sleep, I see."
"Braxiatel," the Doctor replied, not nearly as pleased to see him. "What are you doing here?"
"Come, come, is that any way to say hello, after all this time?" the Time Lord asked, with mock disapproval.
The Doctor crossed his arms and raised an incredulous eyebrow, waiting for an actual answer to his question.
His visitor shook his head in disappointment and explained himself with a sigh. "Your return to Gallifrey has created quite a stir in certain circles. Naturally, as family, I felt it my duty to investigate some of the more outlandish claims against you. And who better to shed some light on these matters than the man himself?" He smiled as though this ought to have been obvious. The Doctor's dubious expression didn't change; he had ample reason to be wary of Braxietel's motives, his brother was not the sort to act purely out of selfless concern.
Braxiatel circled him slowly, giving him an appraising look that was not unlike a farmer inspecting fresh livestock. "You really did it, didn't you? You've made yourself one of them. If it weren't for that embarrassment of a temporal signature, I'd scarcely recognize you like this." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Absolutely fascinating. Did it hurt much?"
"Irving..." the Doctor began, irritated. He, of all people, had no business commenting on the state of anyone's timelines.
Brax wasn't listening to him. He tapped a finger against his lips, not finished with his evaluation. "I see you've regenerated into a more youthful body this time; I expect that comes in handy with all the running. Though, honestly, what number is this now, five? You're burning through them rather quickly."
The Doctor frowned; he wasn't in the mood for a lecture about how he spent his lives. "Haven't you any students in need of tutoring?" he asked grumpily. "I'd hate to think I'm keeping you from them."
Undetered, Brax had already moved on to another subject. "So where is she, this companion of yours, Nyssa of Traken?" He glanced inquiringly at the doorway behind the Doctor. "Did she really give the High Council a ten microspan lecture on morality?"
The Doctor hadn't heard about that, though it sounded like something Nyssa might do; he kept himself from turning around to mirror his brother's curiosity, but only just.
"She'll be along shortly. Her people require more sleep than Gallifreyans and you did drop by unannounced; I imagine she's still getting freshened up. And I don't know, she may have, I wasn't there; I was busy being dragged off to await my death warrant." The thought of her speaking out against the High Council in his defense made him feel strangely pleased, even if it was a dangerous thing for her to do. Some of that must have shown in his expression.
Blue eyes flicked from his face to the closed door and back again. "Ahhhh," Braxiatel said, drawing out the sound and smirking as though he'd just solved a difficult riddle.
The Doctor did his best not to react to the burst of smug satisfaction he sensed and went over to the kitchen to extract a cup of strong tea from the hacked food machine. The benefits of a mild stimulant like caffeine appealed to his tired mind at the moment and it might make dealing with Brax a little easier to tolerate.
"I must admit, I wasn't expecting that rumour to have any truth to it. Well, then."
"What rumour?" The Doctor regretted asking the question as soon as he spoke. He could feel the amusement radiating from the other man in response.
Brax smiled serenely. "Just a whisper or two. Nothing to worry yourself about." He was being infuriatingly coy. "What you do in the privacy of your TARDIS is your own business, anyway."
The Doctor felt himself redden at the implication. He set down his cup and saucer with a clatter. "Now just one minute..."
Alone in the small bathroom, Nyssa stood under a warm spray of water, reflecting on the unexpected shift that had taken place in her relationship with the Doctor. A line had been crossed that they'd never even approached before and she didn't know what this would mean for them going forward. Though she'd enjoyed the experience immensely, she wasn't certain what she wanted now. Absent his distracting presence, she could consider the situation dispassionately and worried that perhaps she'd been too hasty to dismiss his concerns about miscommunication and disparate expectations. She'd meant what she had said to him in the moment, that this wouldn't endanger their friendship, but hadn't really considered how such an arrangement might work on a practical basis.
Nothing she'd learned about courtship and romance on Traken or in her subsequent travels really addressed the situation in which one's lover was not simply your best friend, but also a centuries-old Time Lord whose expected life span vastly outstripped your own. Her brief relationship with Andrew had been too dissimilar to be of particular use comparatively. She didn't necessarily want much to change between them. They already functioned so well together as a team. Would it work to carry on as they always had, except instead of retiring to separate beds at the end of the day, they'd share?
Even if they sorted out the logistics, there was no guarantee that he wouldn't regret his decision given more time to consider it. And even if he didn't, his feelings towards engaging in sexual activity might change once he was back to his Gallifreyan form and no longer under the influence of Trakenite hormones or their empathic connection. Intellectually, she was prepared for the possibility that what happened between them would never be repeated, but the thought of it made her sad.
The casual affection he'd shown to her before the rush to get dressed had been encouraging for the short term at least. If nothing else, she should be confident that this was the Doctor, and he'd already proven on many occasions that he cared for her. If the new, more physical aspects of their relationship were not continued, they would still have one another's companionship in every other way.
In a contemplative mood still, Nyssa stepped out of the shower carefully and allowed the automatic air jets in the ceiling to dry her off. Then she retrieved her clothes from the garment refresher on the wall and set about getting dressed quickly. She was curious to meet their early visitor.
When Nyssa joined the Doctor and Braxiatel in the other room, she found them conferring in the kitchenette over matching cups of tea. The Doctor seemed a trifle flushed and agitated by their conversation, but she couldn't tell yet whether it was because of the subject being discussed, the person he was discussing it with, or something else.
The Doctor stood to introduce her as she approached. "Ah, Nyssa, I was just explaining to Brax the particulars of this mystery we have on our hands." He gestured to the lanky Time Lord who rose from his seat to greet her formally. "Nyssa of Traken, this is Cardinal Braxiatel... my brother."
Brax bent charmingly and took her hand. "Delighted, my dear. Tales of your exploits are already running rampant in the Capitol, but I fear they failed to convey your loveliness, a glaring omission I shall have to remedy at nearest opportunity."
Nyssa smiled and thanked him politely, allowing Braxiatel to guide her to a seat at the table. The Doctor tried and failed to resist the urge to glower at his brother's solicitousness behind his back. Feeling faintly foolish for allowing something so inconsequential to irritate him, he prepared another cup of tea just how Nyssa liked it and set it before her. She acknowledged the drink with a sweet smile and he found himself returning to his own seat wearing a pleased look of his own.
Witnessing this exchange, Braxiatel smirked into his teacup.
With a glance at the Doctor to verify that this was the direction he intended to take the discussion, Nyssa spoke directly to the issue at hand. "It's imperative that we identify the source of the biodata leak as soon as possible. Whoever is responsible took an enormous risk to transmit that information to a dangerous creature and very nearly got the Doctor killed to further their ends. Who knows what else they might be capable of. Is there anything you can do to help us, Cardinal?"
Brax appeared to be moderately impressed. "My dear, you have highlighted the problem most succinctly. I will of course do all that I can to assist you in locating this traitor, but it will not be easy. I'll need to tread carefully to avoid arousing suspicion or endangering my own position. Fortunately, some of my talents lie in subterfuge and information-gathering. If any of the members of the High Council have been acting strangely recently, I'll soon hear of it."
"This isn't simply a matter of political gamesmanship, Brax. The security of the Matrix is at risk, not to mention the fate of the entire universe should the antimatter entity be allowed to fully infiltrate our reality." The Doctor's voice carried a note of the desperate urgency he felt the situation warranted.
"My dear little brother," Braxiatel assured him coolly, "how you ever managed to ascend to the Presidency with that level of political ineptitude is beyond me. Of course this is about politics. I guarantee that if we discover who had the motive and means to make a play for control of the Matrix, we'll find your culprit. I doubt very much that the antimatter threat is anything more than a distraction aimed at diverting our attention away from this person until they've made their move."
Braxiatel stood and smoothed his robes. "However, as you say, time is rather of the essence at the moment, so I shall take my leave of you and begin my discreet inquiries immediately. If I find anything to narrow our suspect list, I shall let you know at once." He bowed to Nyssa. "My lady." And made his exit.
The Doctor sighed heavily as the door slid closed, leaving them alone in the diplomatic apartment once more. Nyssa watched him fidget unhappily with his tea cup for a moment before speaking up.
"You've never mentioned having a brother," she began, conversationally, "strangely, I can almost see the family resemblance." The Doctor looked at her incredulously and she continued. "I thought he was rather charming," she teased, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.
"That's what he'd like you to think," he huffed and hunched his shoulders as he sipped at his tea. She smiled and put a hand over his on the table, stroking his knuckles with her thumb. His expression softened and he met her eyes.
"Perhaps he'll be able to uncover something useful though; you said it yourself that it's been a while since you were on Gallifrey. Having someone we can trust who knows the players is a valuable asset if we're to have any hope of exposing this person."
"That's the trouble," he said with a shake of his head. "I'm never entirely certain I can trust him. Oh, he'll help us, we can be sure of that, it's just that somewhere down the line, I know I'm going to end up paying for this somehow."
Nyssa squeezed his hand understandingly, transmitting feelings of comfort to him through their empathic link. As an only child, the complexities of sibling relationships were a bit foreign to her, but she knew the dance of political give and take all too well. Sometimes one was required by circumstance to make alliances out of expedience that were less than desirable otherwise.
The Doctor lifted their joined hands to press a light kiss to her fingers before returning her hand to the cool tabletop. He seemed to be working up the courage to say something, but stalled on deciding what it was he wanted to convey. Taking pity on him, Nyssa broke the silence instead.
"Last night was a wonderful surprise, Doctor, and I want you to know that I don't regret a single moment of it, but if you feel differently, we can pretend it never happened. I'd hate for this to create distance between us; I value our friendship far too much."
Seconds trickled by as the Doctor contemplated his answer. This was his opportunity to retreat gracefully if he wanted it. Fully clothed and allegedly in control of his emotional responses, he ought to have been able to distance himself from the situation sufficiently to make a rational decision, if only his mind would cooperate. Instead, he kept thinking about how it had felt to wake up with her at his side. Finally, in a low voice barely above a whisper, he admitted, "I don't want to forget it happened."
Before he could say more or move to kiss her, which seemed like an appropriate method of convincing her of his earnestness, they were interrupted by the door chime sounding once again.
Rising unsteadily to answer the door, the Doctor could feel Nyssa's eyes following him across the room. When this ordeal was over, they would have to talk, but for now he was secretly grateful for the reprieve. His natural reticence when it came to discussing matters of the heart had not been changed overnight; and if anything, the introduction of incontrovertible evidence of his true feelings towards her made the situation more awkward.
To the Doctor's surprise, instead of a disgruntled emissary from the High Council waiting on the other side of the door, he found three familiar faces. Damon, Leela, and Andred stood beside the two members of the Guard tasked with confining him to quarters. Damon and Andred looked serious while Leela wore an expression of unmasked curiosity.
"Doctor," Damon greeted him, "may we have a word?"
The Doctor nodded and stepped back to allow them inside.
As the door closed, the two guards did a poor job of disguising their interest in what Commander Andred wanted with the rebel Time Lord. His unlikely marriage to the savage woman that the Doctor had brought to Gallifrey had long been the subject of discussion amongst his subordinates. A few had even begun to secretly wonder if they too might have better luck finding happiness with an off-worlder. The shorter of the pair had noted with interest how beautiful the Doctor's new companion was and peered inside the apartment, hoping to catch another glimpse of her. His view was swiftly cut off by the door; he resumed his vigil with a disappointed sigh.
Once their relative privacy had been restored, Leela was the first to speak, approaching the Doctor and looking him up and down. "You have changed since we last met, Doctor. Andred has explained regeneration to me, but I still find it difficult to believe, even seeing it with my own eyes." She examined his face closely, as if searching for something. "You are much younger now; is that not strange?"
The Doctor looked uncomfortable. In contrast, his former companion had changed very little, evidently having resisted the pressures of Gallifreyan society to adhere to their more conservative modes of dress. "Exceedingly. I wasn't given much choice in the matter though," he said with a tight smile.
She accepted his answer with a perceptive nod and didn't press him further. Nyssa had joined the group, slipping into their loose circle to stand near the Doctor. Leela looked at her next and smiled; she introduced herself, "I am Leela and this is Andred, my husband. It is good to meet you, friend of the Doctor." Andred inclined his head politely in greeting as well and Nyssa replied in kind with her own name.
"Damon said you had changed yourself further, to stop a great injustice," the human woman continued, addressing the Doctor once more. "I did not understand what he meant until now." Her voice became almost wry as she glanced at Nyssa briefly. She nodded approvingly. "It is good that you have found a mate; a warrior is stronger when he or she has a partner to watch over them." Leela stepped back to take Andred's hand while the Doctor, embarrassed and mystified as to what possible evidence could have lead her to that conclusion, floundered for a reply.
Accustomed to his wife's blunt nature by now, Andred reacted with only mild surprise to her pronouncement and the Doctor and Nyssa's mutually pink-tinged faces. Their stammered denials, delivered too late to be convincing, revealed a great deal. From what Leela had shared with him about her adventures in his company, he'd hardly have pegged the Doctor as one to take up with one of his companions, despite the numerous rumours to that effect circulating the Capitol. But then again, he'd never have thought himself capable of such acts or feelings prior to meeting Leela. Perhaps the biggest change the Doctor's latest regeneration had wrought was to his personality.
Damon, however, appeared somewhat stunned and kept glancing between their incriminating expressions in disbelief.
Eager to steer the conversation back to more important topics than the precise nature of his relationship with Nyssa, the Doctor cleared his throat loudly and addressed Damon in a dignified tone. "Were you able to discover any new information since our last conversation?"
Damon nodded and lowered his voice cautiously. "I believe my colleague Talor was murdered." He described the alleged circumstances of Talor's death and what he knew about the ongoing investigation. Andred supplied the few details he had access to via his position in the Chancellery Guard, which were regrettably limited by the fact that it was not his case. He was able to confirm their general reluctance to classify the technician's death as criminal.
The Doctor was beginning to suspect that Braxiatel had been correct when he'd suggested their solution lay in tracing the political motives. This whole situation seemed mired in the twisted backroom threads of Gallifrey's highly insular system of governance. Whomever they were dealing with had been clever enough to gain a position on the High Council, but either too inexperienced or too arrogant to stage a proper cover-up. Talor's murder was an important clue to the traitor's identity, he felt, if only he could work out how to put this information to use. He shared his thoughts with the others.
It was Leela who asked the critical question. "If this traitor seeks to steal control of the Matrix, who has control of it now?"
"No one has complete control over it," Damon answered, "without myself, Talor, or the other technicians on duty, only current members of the High Council have unlimited data access, and even they are subject to certain security restrictions." He frowned suddenly. "Unless you count the Lord President - Borusa holds the Crown of Rassilon as part of his office. He's the only person who can enter the Matrix at any time."
The Doctor and Nyssa traded a knowing look between them. "If I were planning to seize control over the Matrix, that crown would be my primary target," Nyssa voiced the thought they'd both shared.
"How secure is the crown right now?" the Doctor asked Andred. His own presidency had been far too brief to get into the details of how the various articles of office were kept. It was usually on display in the High Council chambers or stored in the Presidential offices, he thought.
"The Lord President has his own personal Guard assignment and the Chambers always have at least two Chancellery Guards on the door," Andred replied. "All off-world transmissions are being closely monitored at the moment as well."
"We believe this person is a member of the council though," Nyssa pointed out. "What good are Guards standing outside if our target seems above suspicion? They might allow the traitor to simply walk right past them. One man has already been killed."
"We still don't know what their plan would've been had I not managed to avoid that execution. Were you able to research any of the information about power equipment before Maxil's men spoke with you?" the Doctor asked Damon.
Damon shook his head. "No, I was too busy assembling the space-time element. Thankfully, with Andred's help I was able to get that installed for you."
"What has power equipment got to do with all this?" Andred asked.
"It was merely a hunch," the Doctor said with a shrug, "if one were attempting to mount an attack on the Matrix, the best way to do that would be from the inside. Gallifrey's 'humane' execution method uses an incredible amount of power; with the right equipment, it might just be possible to hijack that power and use it to hack the carrier signal at the moment when a soon-to-be-deceased Time Lord's mind is uploaded into the Matrix."
Nyssa turned on the Doctor, grey eyes blazing. "Doctor! You said you didn't believe they'd actually let you die!"
The Doctor grimaced, receiving the full brunt of her anger with him via his new empathic receptors. "It was only one possibility; I didn't want worry you. My actual death wouldn't have been strictly necessary, merely the upload carrier signal and power surge. I thought the need for my biodata would force them to spare my life."
Her hard expression didn't soften until he apologised, then she sighed and shook her head. It seemed to be a fundamental flaw in his character that the Doctor was constantly shouldering grave dangers for the sake of others without appreciating the risks to himself or at least understanding that they were not his sole responsibility to bear. The selfless, stubborn idiot.
Leela spoke up again. "If we wish to catch this Time Lord, we must be wise hunters, make our prey come to us."
"Set a trap, you mean?" Andred questioned his wife.
"Yes. The thirsty animal must go to the water to drink eventually. That is where we will find them," she said.
"The crown is our watering hole," elaborated the Doctor, grasping her meaning. "We just need to make them thirsty enough to go for a drink."
"We've already put pressure on them by saving you with the chameleon arch, and the antimatter entity's shielding must surely have begun to degrade by now," Nyssa noted. "What more can we do?" The question hung in the air for a few moments as they all considered the dire implications of what she'd said.
"We need to speak with Borusa immediately," the Doctor concluded and looked to Andred. "Can you take us to see him?"
Andred straightened his uniform and gave the Doctor a resigned look. "I'll be hearing about this from the Castellan for ages, but seeing as it's a matter of the utmost urgency, yes, let's go." He led them out of the diplomatic quarters and ordered the Guards to accompany them in escorting the Doctor and his companion to an audience with the Lord President. They complied obediently, joining the party.
They arrived at the Council's chambers in what proved to be the knick of time. The stately doors opened to reveal Councillor Hedin being held at stazer-point by the Lord President himself.
Hedin jerked his head up at the sound of their arrival; he seemed supremely relieved to see them. "Thank goodness you're here!" he exclaimed. "The Lord President's gone mad!"