“You are a stupid and reckless disgrace to the Timelords.”
That does sound like m- wait a second. This has a taste of the familiar about it. We’ve done this before…
I was gone from Odyssey, gone from the Westford ship of Kane fame, gone from my acquainted reality entirely. I was floating bodily through nothing, in surroundings which suggested I was encased inside a dark marble.
I was enduring my second Time Out.*
Better experienced in these things, I acclimatised to my surroundings, or lack thereof, and turned to address a mirage of Timelord Elder, Council Leader, and all-round sanctimonious prick, Rassilon.
“I remember how it goes. Your responses are limited.”
“So you’re smart enough to figure that out, that’s some blessing.”
“Yes, you said that last time.”
No response.
I squeezed the bridge of my nose. “What. Do. You. Want?”
“This Time Out has been established in response to anyone – with an infinitesimal sense of priority – who attempts timeline erasure. You have somehow managed to overcome the limitations decided and effected by the Timelord Elders – people far more knowledgeable than you. You must understand the repercussions of your actions, and realise this power must be suppressed, indefinitely.”
I sighed. Save for ‘timeline erasure’ over ‘time theft’, it’s the same script as last time, too. Either our lords and leaders were a lot lazier than I’d suspected; or, they hadn’t expected a Timelord to unlock more than one forbidden ability. Even the most paranoid rulers can’t plan for everything.
That or they planned to catch anyone lucky enough to gain their first one…
“Consider your studies. Consult the General Archives. Think upon the stories of ancient Timelord Borosi, the Seer. Remember his mistakes, for they must not become yours.”
My eyebrows slid upwards. A reading recommendation. That was new.
“Borosi. Right.”
Lost in thought, I turned away from faux-Rassilon, which until I spoke would remain silent. Last time I was here – which is to also say, nowhere – suffering this patronising punishment, FutureHH helped get me out. Having just provided me with Erase( ), I wasn’t about to rely on him a second time, not this soon after the last one.
Nor did I need him, either. Before his previous intervention, I’d been planning to utter Rassilon’s Time Out master password – something I obtained during my school time days of rebellion, and limited patience.
I had problems with authority.
‘Had’ being entirely the wrong tense.
My mouth parted to speak the word, but I paused, lost to the realms of a new thought.
All these distractions – the Timelord survivors, my Ninth Self, Ethereal and CAUSE, my broken time machine, to name a few – did seem to be reaching their end.
Before I called it in, and settled down to what I planned to be several months of isolation and mental readjustment, perhaps there was a way of using this one…
“Manual over-ride. Access 3-8-18-15 dash, n, zero, S, passcode: Aion,” I paused for breath, and saw that the codes hadn’t been changed. Rassilon’s image flickered, then flicked off, like an unplugged television. In its place stood an Archive Droid, naked of its previous holographic alias.
I knew these robots well, having shut most of them down during my database theft amidst the Time War. They were golden, obviously, humanoid, slim, slender, and their inverted-pyramid-shaped heads are embossed in the circular shapes of our alphabet.
I raised the Q.U.A.R.K, tapping away furiously on its screen. I’d taken information from the Daleks. Might as well source from my Number One enemies, while I’m here.
“I haven’t accessed the hard-drives since the Time War, and if what I’ve learned is true, those records should still be updating.”
The Droid remained as silent as its Rassilon setting. I finished updating my own personal computer. A final, finite tap with a forefinger, and the hack began, recommencing a centuries-old espionage.
“While Odyssey’s downloading all that’s happened since then, I just have to ask. Did Gallifrey truly survive the Time War?”
Confirmed.
“And the Timelords as well?”
Confirmed.
Hearing it a second time wasn’t exactly easier, but the wave of cold that rushed through my veins wasn’t quite so sharp.
“Every single one of them?”
Unknown.
Fair enough. Any and all causalities recorded before The Moment still stood. After that, well…that didn’t exist anymore. But they did.
“Then, where is Gallifrey now?”
Unknown.
“Don’t be stupid. If it wasn’t destroyed, it must be somewhere.”
Unknown.
“How can you not know? Surely there are galactic co-ordinates? A quadrant number? Hell, I’ll even take a wild guess?”
Unknown.
“Tell me where my home is!”
The Droid was unfazed. I released what breath I had left, lowered my hands, unclenched my fists, tried to stop trembling. I’d surprised even myself; by shouting, but by using the word ‘home’ all the more. I have been under a lot of stress recently…
Unknown.
I rubbed a hand across my eyes. All for the best, I suppose. I can hardly return there, Hero’s Welcome at the ready. Not for the A.W.O.L soldier, twice, who stole their history and besmirched their “good” name ever since.
“Hmm. Access records: status of Timelord known as the Guardian?”
Deceased. Eighth Generation.
I filed that to one side, and went on to ask without missing a beat:
“Access records: status of Timelord known as Homeless Helper.”
No records found.
“None?”
No records found.
“But…this is my Second Time out? I served in the Time War? I-”
I then snapped my jaw closed so sharply my teeth clicked, and I almost severed my tongue. All considered, that wouldn’t be such a bad idea. In the eyes of my ancestors and my enemies, I didn’t even exist. No need to draw attention to that.
“So, there is no Homeless Helper?”
Confirmed.
“Confirmed, indeed.” I then spoke the password to let me out. My dark marble disintegrated. Wheels and cogs of natural Time slid back into place, almost with an audible clunk. Lack of colour became lack of light.
And then I was standing in the dead and dreary console room of Odyssey.
HH
* Timelords, master of shamelessly showing off, don’t resort to lectures and letters home to parents. Their disciplinary actions include removing the recalcitrant child from Time itself, for a damn good talking-to – Outside (Phase 1)
The Unknown Timelord 