Divided Loyalties

by Gary Russell

  ‘Maybe not.’ he shrugged. ‘But I’ll still have a career at the end of it.’

  Vansell turned and left.

  ‘Will he betray us?’ Rallon wondered aloud.

  The Doctor shook his head. ‘No. Not even Vansell could do that. Our loyalty to each other is what has kept us together all these years.’

  ‘Nothing can divide that,’ murmured Koschei.

  ‘No,’ the Doctor agreed. ‘Nothing…’

  2

  (Forever) Live and Die

  ‘You don’t know how to fly this thing, do you?’

  The Doctor, who had been hunched over the TARDIS

  console, stood up. ‘Of course I do,’ he snapped at Millennia.

  ‘Have you two got nothing better to do than criticise?’

  Rallon laughed. ‘I’ll check the fault locator.’

  ‘Fault locator,’ muttered the Doctor. ‘I am the fault locator.

  I can find the fault.’

  Millennia peered over his shoulder. ‘I thought there wasn’t a fault.’

  ‘There isn’t a fault,’ retorted the Doctor. ‘But if there was, I’d be able to find it, not some ridiculous machine.’

  ‘It’s in the navigational systems,’ Rallon called over from the fault locator room. ‘G3 4S.’

  ‘I know where the navigation systems are, Rallon.’ The Doctor tugged up the corner of the panel on the TARDIS console that was nearest the outer doors, peered inside, shut it and opened the next panel. ‘Well, if they didn’t keep moving things around...’

  Millennia resumed her wandering around the console room.

  ‘The TARDIS is smaller than I thought it would be.’

  ‘It’s only a Type 18, Millennia,’ Rallon said. ‘Now, if we’d acquired a Type 35, or even a Type 30 Mark III, we’d be more comfortable.’

  ‘Well, if someone had distracted the traffic controller longer than she did, I might have had the opportunity to find one.’

  The Doctor slammed the panel shut. ‘As it is, this is the best I could do.’ He glowered at Millennia. ‘As usual, I have to do everything, hmmm?’

  ‘To be fair, Doctor,’ said Rallon, ever conciliatory, ‘this was your idea. We’re just along for the ride!’

  ‘I want to see Chancellor Delox’s face when we get back, see if she still thinks you’re worthless, Doctor.’ Millennia suddenly clapped her hands together. ‘Oh, oh. I want to get a souvenir. A rock or something. Just think what we can do with it!

  ‘What exactly?’ asked the Doctor, retrying the navigational controls.

  Millennia’s thought processes clearly hadn’t got quite far enough to answer him - geology wasn’t her field of interest after all. ‘Oh, I don’t know. It’ll be different rock to Gallifrey rock, so the geologists will be fascinated. And anyway, I want to show it to my family, to prove how we can learn to do things without using our ―influence‖.’

  The Doctor shot her a curious look - the sad fact was that her family had connections and money rather than brains. To them, Millennia’s time at the Academy was an excuse to get her out of the house and away from whatever harm she might do to herself. But although she was a bit young and given to flights of sulking, the Doctor was as impressed by her aptitude as Rallon. He had little doubt that one day she would prove to her House just how clever she was. Maybe after this very excursion.

  ‘I think I’ll throw a party when we get back, you two. A big welcome home for the brave adventurers.’ She looked around her. ‘Where is the computer?’

  ‘Why?’ asked Rallon.

  ‘I want to start a list of who to invite, silly.’ She kissed his cheek. ‘Oh, and my family are not on the list.’

  Without saying anything, Rallon touched a switch on the console and a data bank unfolded itself. Millennia was greeted by a screen and keypad. ‘Oh, how quaint,’ she said.

  ‘It’s as ―quaint‖ as the library computers,’ the Doctor said.

  ‘I know that,’ Millennia replied. ‘I’m not stupid. I just think the way it was inserted into this console thing is quaint.’

  ‘Millennia,’ Rallon eased her away. ‘I think there’s a secondary console down the corridor. Why don’t you use the one in there and then the Doctor and I can work in here, and in a couple of hours, you tell us all about the party, all right?’

  Millennia smiled adoringly at him, but she knew she was being sidetracked. ‘Oh, Rallon, you’re always full of good ideas,’ she said sarcastically, but still headed off to find the other control room.

  ‘Thank you,’ said the Doctor. ‘Now tell me again why she is here?’

  Rallon smiled. ‘Because she wants adventure as much as you or I, Doctor. And,’ and he reached over conspiratorially and gripped his friend’s shoulder, ‘because if it were you and me, we’d take risks. Silly risks. This way, being the gentlemen we are, each of us will ensure nothing gets too out of hand and we don’t do anything life-threatening. After all, would you want to tell her family something had happened to her?’

  The Doctor pursed his lips. ‘I wouldn’t want to tell her furniture, let alone the whole family.’

  Rallon winked. ‘Exactly my point, old man.’

  For the first time, the Doctor allowed a smile to slip across his face. ‘All right, ―old man‖, but she’s your responsibility. I don’t like having to be responsible for other people.’

  Millennia popped her head back around the door from the inner sections of the TARDIS. ‘I got bored making lists. That’s the sort of thing our housekeeper used to get me to do when she wanted me out from under her feet. Why do I suddenly get the impression that it’s happened again?’

  The Doctor and Rallon shot a look at each other, each hoping the other had a quick enough answer. ‘You can help me here,’ the Doctor said. ‘Could you start to tell me some of those readings?’

  Millennia’s eyes sparkled for a moment and, for the first time, the Doctor noticed how very attractive she was. No wonder Rallon was besotted.

  He coughed and sidled up beside her. ‘I think I should apologise, Millennia. I’ve not been the best of... companions since we started this little journey. A bit concerned about getting there, and all that. You do understand, don’t you?’

  Millennia shrugged, but was still smiling. ‘Of course I do, Doctor. We’re all used to your weird eccentricities by now.’ She looked down at the TARDIS console. ‘Which numbers need reading?’

  But the Doctor was staring open-mouthed at her, and then over to Rallon, who merely mouthed ‘touché’ back at him.

  ‘Those ones. There.’ The Doctor jabbed his finger at a dial.

  He had no idea what it was for, but it would keep Millennia occupied and feeling useful.

  ‘Point 01,’ Millennia started to say.

  And then everything went... bizarre.

  Harsh thick beams of light suddenly ricocheted off the TARDIS’s walls, accompanied by a loud humming noise. The TARDIS itself was pitching and tossing.

  The console started shorting, sending sparks and a wailing Millennia in various directions.

  The TARDIS lights themselves dimmed, and the three of them could only see each other as the new beams bounced around them.

  ‘They’re searching for something,’ the Doctor muttered, his brain immediately trying to analyse the new problem. He moved to one side and, sure enough, one of the light beams hit where he had just been standing. ‘Intelligent and diligent,’

  he murmured.

  Millennia was huddled in a corner, but Rallon suddenly rolled towards the Doctor, dodging the beams as they stabbed down.

  ‘I calculate a point 03 second delay in their readings of movement,’ he said. ‘While we’re still, they don’t ―see‖ us.’

  ‘Is this some kind of TARDIS defence?’ moaned Millennia.

  ‘Are we in trouble with the Time Lords?’

  Rallon waved over to her, to reassure her.

  And vanished in a column of light that hit him and seemed to elongate him, stretching him upwards and into t
he TARDIS’s ceiling.

  It was over.

  The TARDIS was no longer moving, its lights were back on and the noise had stopped.

  ‘Rallon?’ Millennia crawled towards the Doctor. ‘Where’s he gone?’

  The Doctor could see she was terrified. Truth be told, so was he.

  He carefully reached up and activated the TARDIS scanner.

  One of the roundels that indented the wall shimmered and gave way to the outside image.

  White. A pure white that the Doctor had never seen before.

  Not snow, as on the mountains in southern Gallifrey; or paint, such as in the walkways to and from the academicians’

  offices.

  Just whiteness. Nothingness.

  ‘Can we go home now?’ murmured Millennia. She had drawn her knees towards her breast and was hugging them, rocking slightly as if to calm herself down.

  The Doctor realised he needed to take control of the situation. Borusa always told him never to let a situation take control of him.

  And even the voice of the old man on the mountain seemed to penetrate his brain. ‘Your destiny is yours, my boy. External forces can shape it, maybe even direct and influence it, but your destiny lies within you and is determined by what you do with the events you are faced with.’

  His two most significant teachers.

  This was the time to find out how well they had taught him.

  No. To find out how well he had listened and learnt.

  After checking the exterior readings and finding them safe, he opened the TARDIS’s doors.

  The white glare he was expecting wasn’t there, and so he gingerly poked his head out.

  He could not see a floor, a roof or walls. Just a white void.

  Was the TARDIS on solid ground or was it floating?

  He got on his hands and knees and patted the nothingness outside the TARDIS’s doors. It seemed firm so he stood up again and walked out, holding his breath, preparing to drop.

  But no, whatever it was, it was solid. Without looking back, he reached his hand inside the TARDIS, calling for Millennia.

  After a second’s hesitation, he felt her hand slip into his, her fingers sliding between his and getting a firm grip.

  Together they walked out of the TARDIS and looked back. The chameleon circuit hadn’t activated - clearly the TARDIS could not read anything from its surroundings to prompt it to create an illusion of change.

  ‘How intriguing,’ the Doctor muttered.

  ‘Look!’ Millennia almost took a step back. A path seemed to be laying itself, rushing towards them, yellow flagstones appearing rapidly, one after the other, three abreast.

  ‘No, wait,’ said the Doctor, giving her hand a squeeze.

  The yellow flagstones stopped their construction at his toes.

  ‘Doctor!’

  He turned at Millennia’s cry. The TARDIS was in the distance, receding rapidly as if being pulled back at great speed. Within seconds, the familiar white dome had blended so perfectly with its surroundings that they couldn’t tell if it had ceased to exist or was too far away to be discernible.

  Except it was not the TARDIS that had moved - it was them. They found the yellow flagstones beneath their feet and realised the path was moving away as fast as it had arrived.

  The slabs behind them were whipped up and moved ahead, forming an ever-moving walkway.

  ‘Brilliant,’ the Doctor said. ‘Scientifically speaking, this is -’

  He stopped. Millennia’s face told him everything he needed to know. She was terrified, completely and utterly terrified, and his babbling was not helping her. ‘I’m sorry, my dear,’ he said. ‘I do go on a bit.’

  When the path stopped moving they were in a square. The floor was a pure white void again, but around them was a wall made from massive blocks. At one end, it was neatly broken - to leave a gap.

  ‘Hello’ said two dull voices behind them.

  They turned to be greeted by two severe-looking humans, immaculately dressed, the man in a grey pinstripe suit and bowler hat, the woman in a tight grey sweater and skirt. Both wore horn-rimmed glasses and the man carried a newspaper and an umbrella.

  They were the epitome of dullness. Greyness.

  ‘I’m George. This is my wife, Margaret. We’ve been sent to tell you to go on through. ‘The man spoke in a flat monotone -

  as if the appearance of the Doctor and Millennia was the single most boring event ever to have happened. ‘Delighted to finally meet you.’ he added, sounding as if he meant anything but that.

  ‘Don’t keep him waiting,’ said Margaret. ‘He hates being kept waiting.’

  ‘Through there?’ Millennia asked, her rational mind beginning to function again. She pointed at the gap in the wall.

  That’s right, thought the Doctor. Good girl - treat this as a problem to be solved, not a situation to panic about.

  But George and Margaret were gone, like phantoms. It was as if they had never been there.

  The two Gallifreyans had started to move towards the gap when something made them stop - a sound. A growling, marling, roaring sort of sound. It was alien but, the Doctor thought, somehow not quite right. As if something was trying too hard to be noisy and frightening.

  Through the gap came a scaly, reptilian creature on four stumpy legs. Flame red all over, it had a big wide mouth, a scaly mane, and huge rolling eyes. A wisp of smoke curled out through one nostril.

  ‘What is it?’

  The Doctor stared hard. ‘A reptile of some sort. Look at that tail...’ Something at the back of his mind clicked. ‘It’s a dragon. A red dragon.’

  The dragon pawed at the ground - but stayed where it was.

  It was as if something was stopping it getting into the square arena where the Doctor and Millennia were standing.

  Or it was there to stop them getting out.

  Swallowing hard, Millennia opted to ignore the dragon and instead walked over to the wall of blocks. Each block was slightly wider than she was tall and they were lying flat, two high. She could not quite reach the top.

  ‘Doctor, they’re made of something hard but not artificial.’ The Doctor was beside her in an instant, mumbling to himself.

  ‘We’re here for a reason ... we can’t get out despite the gap because someone wants us to stay here.’

  ‘The dragon?’

  ‘Oh no, no. I shouldn’t think he can think for himself.’ The Doctor tapped the tiles. ‘Bone,’ he said after a moment. ‘Ivory to be precise.’

  ‘Doctor, look!’

  One of the tiles near the dragon lifted and then came down in the centre of the arena. A second later another followed, then another. Something was dismantling the wall and dropping the blocks near the Doctor and Millennia.

  The Doctor ran to the nearest one and peered over the top of it.

  ‘It has markings on, Millennia. See there? And there?’

  Millennia was looking at another block. ‘This one is covered in roundels.’

  The Doctor was tracing the scratchy outline of the markings on his. They made no sense. He crossed to another, which showed four green lines and the number 4 in the corner.

  ‘How many roundels?’ he called suddenly.

  ‘Err... five.’

  ‘Is there a number 5 in the top left corner?’

  ‘Yes. Yes there is!’ Millennia called back. Is it important?’

  The Doctor crouched atop the block with the four lines on it.

  ‘Millennia, where were we headed?’

  She shrugged. ‘The realm of one of the Great Old Ones.’

  ‘The Toymakers! Yes, yes, that’s where we were going, my dear. And, if I’m not much mistaken, these are tiles in a giant game of some sort.’

  ‘It is called mah-jong,’ said the dragon from the rapidly diminishing corner, ducking slightly as another tile was picked up and discarded.

  Both Gallifreyans stared at it in surprise. The Doctor recovered first - what had his old mentor in the mountain always said a
bout never judging by appearances?

  ‘Good day, sir. My name is -’

  ‘The Doctor. And your friend is Millennia. Yes, Rallon told me all about you.’

  And the world went bizarre again.

  The dragon blurred and re-formed as a man.

  The walls around them shrunk until everything was reversed and the three figures were standing on either side of a lacquered black table. The game tiles on its surface were now just that.

  The man wore a long silken robe, beautifully coloured and decorated with dragons and other strange but beautiful designs. On his head was a round hat, similarly patterned, while his feet were encased in red velvet, pointed slippers.

  The only thing wrong was that his head lacked any features

  - it was just a glowing ball of energy.

  He spread out his arms, long silken sleeves drooping. It was a gesture of welcome.

  ‘I’m sorry it took so long to get the dimensions adjusted to suit you,’ he said, not unkindly. His voice was that of a mature man: rich, deep and well spoken - really rather charming. ‘Visitors to my realm are few and far between and when I scanned your craft the interior dimensions were at odds with the exterior, which suggested a technology and advancement that your actually choosing to come here belied.’

  The Doctor put his hands behind his back. ‘Oh really? So you are saying we made a mistake coming here?’

  ‘For you or for me?’ asked the man.

  Millennia spoke up. ‘Where’s Rallon? What have you done with him?’

  ‘I am here, my child. This body is being sustained by him.

  Me. Whatever. Here, let me explain.’

  And the man’s head morphed into Rallon’s, although when he spoke, it was still in the smooth sophisticated tones of the original. ‘I needed a body - sadly my original one did not...

  suit this Universe. Your friend’s is the first I have come across that isn’t enfeebled and prone to wearing out every seventy years. Mortality is such a burden, I find. This one could last a good thousand years I should imagine.’

  ‘Rallon?’ Millennia whispered. ‘Rallon, are you still alive?’ The figure with Rallon’s face shook his head. ‘Oh no, not really. I think there is a tiny spark of him somewhere inside me, acting as a cohesion to keep this frame together. Would you prefer it if I assumed a different visage for now? This one does rather seem to upset you.’