by Gary Russell
Rallon and the Doctor stood alone.
‘You and Millennia, then,’ the Doctor started. ‘Should we prepare for... an announcement sometime soon?’
Rallon laughed heartily, then glanced around in case they attracted the unwelcome attention of Runcible doing his rounds.
‘She is a lovely person, Doctor. And yes, one day I think we may share our lives. But not yet, my friend. In many ways she is still a... a...’
‘Child?’ prompted the Doctor, and immediately regretted it as Rallon frowned.
‘Well, since you put it so bluntly, let’s just say that for all her brains, all her instinctive skills in applied cosmic sciences and transcendental engineering, she has some maturing to do.’ Rallon held his arms wide. ‘But what can I say? I have fallen for a beautiful face, a gorgeous body, a fantastic mind...’
‘...and a very influential family,’ grinned the Doctor.
Rallon feigned annoyance for a second, and then shook his head. ‘You’ll find someone one day, Doctor. Then you’ll remember this ridiculing and regret it, mark my words.’ They were standing outside their rooms now. ‘And yes, she does have an influential family - but, to her credit, she never flaunts it!’
‘Good night, my friend,’ the Doctor said. ‘I fear I shall spend most of tomorrow trying to avoid the influence of my own, dear, family.’
Rallon was by the door to his room, opposite the Doctor’s. ‘I have not forgotten, Doctor. Tomorrow is your ...’
They both stopped as the Doctor pushed his door open and a seven-foot-tall furry creature faced them. It had a pig-like snout, two black eyes with red specks in the pupils and curled horns on either side of its head. Its powerful frame was covered in downy white fur threaded through with charcoal grey stripes and its massive clawed paws were resting on its hips.
It was an Avatroid.
Rallon took an involuntary step backwards, but the Doctor just sighed.
The Avatroid adjusted the collar of the Paisley waistcoat it wore, rather pointlessly, bearing in mind that the garment barely reached the creature’s well-developed pecs and was dangerously taut across its shoulders.
‘If you tear that,’ the Doctor said crossly, ‘I’d be very upset indeed, Badger.’
Badger shrugged and the Doctor winced as a loud ripping sound preceded the waistcoat dropping to the floor in two distinct halves.
‘Now look, if you want a waistcoat, I’ll get you one. That’s the fifth one of mine you’ve destroyed.’
If Badger was in any way concerned, Rallon couldn’t tell it from the expression on its face. Instead, the creature reached down and, ignoring the Doctor’s feeble struggling, scooped Rallon’s friend up in a huge bear hug, snorting slightly.
Rallon realised this was from pleasure - the Avatroid was pleased to see the Doctor.
‘Rallon,’ the Doctor said between short breaths, ‘this is Badger, my... friend from the House of Lungbarrow. Badger, the person watching you crush me to death is my associate here at the academy, Rallonwashatellaraw of the House of Stillhaven.’ Badger eased the Doctor to the ground and went to hug Rallon, who backed off rather too rapidly before realising he might appear rude.
‘You have an Avatroid as a pet?’
The Doctor looked alarmed. ‘Don’t call him a pet,’ he hissed. ‘He’s my best friend in the world. He hates being thought of as a pet! He has been known to get... angry when called a pet.’
Rallon nodded. Not a pet, he thought to himself. All right.
Not a pet. ‘Pleased to meet you, Badger,’ he said aloud.
Badger nodded and then turned back to the Doctor.
‘Tomorrow,’ it said in a deep voice that seemed to come from eight different directions (including outside and the basement) at once, ‘Tomorrow is Otherstide, Snail. It is also your name day. Two important events you are expected to celebrate.’
The Doctor nodded. ‘And I suppose the Kitriarch expects me home hmmm?’
Before Rayon could ask why Badger referred to the Doctor as
‘Snail’, the Avatroid had nodded and pointed to a small bag on the bed.
Suddenly angry, the Doctor stomped over to the bag, tugged it open and began throwing the contents on to the bed and floor and at Badger. ‘No! No, I will not come just because Quences clicks his fingers. And I am the Doctor, thank you.
Not ‘Snail’. Not ―Wormhole‖. Not ―Thete‖. Doctor!’
‘But, Sna... Doctor, the family...’
‘Can go and rot,’ snapped back the Doctor. He looked straight at Rallon and for the first dine Rallon could recall there was a real fire in his eyes. A real resentment and anger at something.
‘Last Otherstide,’ the Doctor raged, ‘the Kitriarch told me that it wasn’t enough that I wanted to learn. It wasn’t enough that I wanted to study here at the Academy, get my doctorate, have a life. No, he expected better of me. He expected me to become a Time Lord with all their little genetic perks and then sit in some room and study the galaxy. Said that I, I, had ideas above my station. Well, I won’t go back. No, I won’t.’
He jabbed a finger into Badger’s hairy chest. ‘And you can tell him that the next time he wants an audience, and to tell me how worthless I am, what a disgrace I am to the House, the family and all the cousins, he can come himself rather than sending you just because we are friends.’
Badger
took
a
deep
breath.
‘Ordinal-General
Quencessetiano-bayolocaturgrathadadeyyilungbarrowmas insists that you...’
The Doctor pushed past Badger, past Rallon, and headed back down the corridor. Without a pause, Rallon and Badger dashed after him.
At the apex of the steps from the lower floors the Doctor was suddenly stopped by a hand grabbing him.
‘You should be asleep by now -’ started the ever-ridiculous Runcible. The Doctor shrugged him away and, with a short cry, the monitor lost his footing and tumbled out of Rallon’s view, down the few steps to the landing below.
By the time Rallon and Badger reached the steps, Runcible was back again. He had opened his mouth to shout at the Doctor when Rallon saw his eyes widen at the sight of Badger.
‘No!’ he cried. ‘Academy dormitory rules expressly forbid the keeping of pets in rooms! I shall report you to Card...’
‘I am not a pet!’ Badger gently shoved Runcible in the chest (Rallon had never seen anyone shoved gently before, but Badger managed it rather gracefully), sending him back down the steps. This time his copious lists scattered everywhere.
Rallon stopped and took a moment to scoop them up, roll them into a ball and throw them at a window which obligingly rearranged its molecules to create a small gap that allowed the paper to go through and no doubt plop to the dusty surface six storeys below.
With a smile of satisfaction and a muted murmur of ‘The Deca - one, Runcible the fatuous - nil,’ Rallon caught up with the Doctor and Badger, who were arguing furiously.
One by one room doors slid open and sleepy students poked their heads out to see what the commotion was about.
As soon as they saw Badger and the Doctor yelling most of them ducked back in again, but a few decided to watch. A couple took a quick bet as to who would win: the huge Avatroid or the famously antagonistic Doctor.
* * *
The next morning, things were quiet at the Academy. Very quiet indeed.
Rallon did not mention the previous night’s activities, and nor did the Doctor. Miraculously, not one other student made any comment about Avatroids, noise, or the various bumps and bruises that covered Runcible - although it was muttered that half of them were probably self-inflicted for dramatic effect, as neither the Doctor nor the Avatroid had pushed him that hard.
The first time the affair was brought up was in Cardinal Sendok’s class on stellar cartography.
‘Working on the principle of the galactic centre being a fixed point just to the apex of the space-time continuum, can anyone suggest
the co-ordinates of the planets Brus, Mollassis and Ava and the quickest routes to take in all three, starting in the Alys System and ending up back at Kasterborous?’ He fixed his gaze on the Doctor. ‘I understand some of us here have a passing acquaintance with the inhabitants of Ava...
which has been noted by the Academy Council, by the way.’
The Doctor had the temerity to at least look embarrassed.
Sendok shook his head slowly and carried on with his lecture, asking an off-world student, a Gresaurus, to answer the problem he had set.
It was only later, awaiting Chancellor Delox’s philosophy class, that Rallon took the opportunity to whisper a question to his friend.
The Doctor’s response was straightforward ‘Badger has taken my reply to the Kitriarch. Suffice to say, my friend, the House will celebrate Otherstide without my presence.’
‘Wish I had your determination,’ muttered Koschei. ‘The House of Oakdown would never let me off so lightly.’
‘They’d send a chair to get you, though,’ said Ushas coldly.
‘As would my House. Only the House of Lungbarrow would send a... pet.’ Ushas spat out ‘pet’ as if it was the first time she’d ever uttered such a word. It certainly seemed a distasteful one to her.
Vansell waved them into silence as Chancellor Delox entered the room. Unlike most of the casually dressed lecturers or students, Delox always wore her full heliotrope robes and neck brace. It meant she had to walk more slowly than other people through the lengthy corridors, and she used this to remind everyone at the Academy that, for Time Lords and those in training, time was not something that should be, or needed to be, hurried. She was like that. One of the old school.
When she had started working at the Academy, it was purely a place for the chosen few, who went there to determine their suitability to ascend to Gallifrey’s elite. These days, it was a place where enlightened races could also send their students, to learn the ways of the Time Lords, their morals, their philosophy and, to a lesser extent, their science. Of course, no one was ever allowed to learn even the basics of time travel technology - oh no. That was exclusive to Gallifreyans. After all, who else could be trusted with such knowledge? Even those worlds fortunate enough to be allowed to know of Gallifrey’s existence lacked the moral fibre necessary to manipulate time.
Besides, the only task of the Time Lords was to watch and make notes, entering details of everything they witnessed in the Net. Seeing alternative time lines evolve, watching different parallel universes blossom into existence before their tired and unadventurous eyes, observing the births, lives and deaths of trillions upon trillions of individuals. That was what the Time Lords did with their special gifts.
And woe betide any member of any alien race (and aliens they were, here on Gallifrey, as if the term automatically implied some kind of inferiority) who asked questions about the properties of time travel, or how a TARDIS worked. They were sent home in disgrace.
I’ve heard rumours of a race who deliberately let themselves be known as Aliens and came to Gallifrey,’
Magnus had said over tea one afternoon. ‘They sought time travel to help them conquer the universe because they were warriors, who lived to fight, but the Time Lords expelled them
- not just from Gallifrey - and said if they ever returned, they’d wipe them out of existence.’
‘How could they do that, exactly?’ Ushas snarled.
Magnus shrugged. ‘Apparently they threatened to imprison the Aliens’ world behind a force field and then run time backwards, erasing them.’
Jelpax nodded excitedly. ‘It’s true. The Time Lords said the Aliens would not only cease to exist but they’d never have existed. I saw it in one of the record books in co-ordinator Azmael’s library.’
A memory of this conversation flashed through Rallon’s mind when he saw Delox. Yes, she was just the type to do exactly that.
Before she reached the podium from which she always lectured, or hectored, she clicked her fingers and pointed at the Doctor. She continued to point her fingertip at him as she walked, without setting eyes on him.
‘Stand. Explain to the class the philosophy of Gallifrey. ‘The Doctor stood and, unsurprisingly, he stammered as he replied -
it was the sort of request that needed parameters. To answer it exactly and concisely could take several days. He said so.
‘Wrong.’ Delox’s voice sounded like a tree dying and breaking when hit by lightning. She pointed at Runcible.
‘You.’
‘Obedience. Honour. Understanding. Loyalty. Respect.’
Delox lowered her hand. Almost. You omitted to say
―Tradition‖. And tradition is as important as all those other qualities.’
She turned her attention back to the Doctor. ‘You and your arrogant young friends seem to have forgotten everything instilled in you since the Loom. You believe that with your wanderlust, your desire to know and understand the universe, to see what is out there, those of us content to abide by the rules which govern us are somehow weak. Lazy.
Immolators of knowledge. You are wrong. Our philosophy is based upon the word ―Tradition‖ and everything else your fellow student said grows forth from that one concept. Without tradition, we have no life. Without tradition, we have no purpose. Without tradition, we have no - to use an archaic term - future. The society to which you belong has been created and continued, bettered and enriched by your forebears. By your families. By your Houses. To reject its rules because you do not agree with them is the ultimate conceit.
And this Academy does not require conceit. It requires obedience, honour, understanding, respect and, above all, your loyalty. Loyalty to yourself, your fellows, your people and your family. If you wish to achieve your doctorate, to join the ranks of the educated and wise, you - and I am talking now to all of you in this room, Gallifreyan or alien - will reject your immature predilections, your arrogant belief that you are somehow better than your elders. And you will work to learn.’
Delox returned her attention to the still standing Doctor.
‘And you. You in particular have got away with a great deal in this Academy. You stand there, thinking you are clever, educated and intellectual. You believe your desire to escape your home world makes you unique. Worthy of special attention. You are wrong. You are nothing. Your work is patchy, your attendance more so and even your appearance is a disgrace. You believe that getting a few high marks, a few eight out of tens from Cardinal Borusa, means you no longer have to work so hard, that you can relax.’
Delox suddenly slammed her hand down hard on her lectern, making everyone jump in surprise - not least the Doctor, who visibly blanched.
‘How dare you presume any of those things. You are nothing. You are one microscopic cog in the vast machinery that is this universe. Without you, the universe would go on and never notice your non-existence. You are unimportant to everyone and everything except yourself. Sadly, your belief in your own self-worth far outweighs reality - you lack the most important ingredient in an intelligent, reasoning being.
Humility. Until you learn some, I no longer require you in my classroom. Return tomorrow when you have visited your Kitriarch. If you do not do that, you need not bother returning to this Academy except to reclaim your belongings from your rooms in the dormitory.’
Silence. Rallon realised that he, like Koschei, Ushas, Millennia and everyone else he could see, was holding his breath. He could swear he heard multiple hearts beating faster than normal. Everyone found something in the room to draw their attention away from the angry lecturer.
Only the Doctor did not take his eyes off Delox. Slowly he reached down and picked up his writing pens and clipboard, his notes and his data pad. One by one he placed them in his pockets, still never daring to take his eyes off the woman at the head of the room.
‘One day, Madame,’ he said very quietly but very firmly, will make you proud of me and you will understand that the one word missing from your concept of our phil
osophy is the word
―change‖.’
And he walked out, head held high.
And Rallon, Magnus, Koschei, Jelpax and the others in the Deca all realised that nothing was ever going to be the same again.
Rallon, Magnus and Millennia found the Doctor a few hours later. He was sitting on a rock at the base of a mountain not far from his ancestral home, Lungbarrow.
He was still wearing his dark, one-piece Academy suit, its pockets packed with pens and data pad. He clearly had not been home. He also looked as if he had been crying although none of them opted to mention this.
Despite this he was grinning from ear to ear, holding a quail flower in his hand. ‘I understand now,’ he said. ‘Now it all makes sense!’
Which was more, Rallon decided, than the Doctor was doing.
‘Delox has done me the greatest favour possible. She has made me look inwards, discover the truth. She was so right, my friends, but also so terribly wrong!’ He suddenly turned and looked back up the mountain, staring at a small hut where, presumably, one of the Outsiders lived. There was no one there, but the Doctor waved anyway and then carefully placed the flower in a pocket.
Millennia let her hand slip away from Rallon’s and put both her hands on the Doctor’s shoulders, concern in her eyes. ‘Are you sure you are all right, Doctor? We were so very worried.’
He tapped her hands gently, and smiled up at her. Rallon didn’t think he’d ever before seen a smile so cheerful, so exultant.
‘I am fine, my dear. Thank you so much!’ The Doctor stood and looked at his three friends. ‘Come,’ he said. ‘We have work to do.’
Some while later they were in one of the libraries dotted throughout the Academy. A few other students were hunched over computer data bases, making notes with pens and paper - a strangely incongruous mixture of technologies that the Academy seemed keen to encourage. The Doctor sat down and produced the small flower he had been holding near the mountain. Millennia reached out for it, but he slapped her hand away. She gave the others a look that spoke volumes, but he failed to notice it.
