1. This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this site, you are agreeing to our use of cookies. Learn More.


Discussion in 'Creative Archive' started by Nemesis, Sep 13, 2011.

  1. Nemesis

    Former Administrator

    So, something different form me, a Doctor Who fic that doesn't feature the Doctor, apart form some mentions. Got a bit planned, so let's see how we go...


    Tyroankandra stood completely still, his feet frozen to the floor with the fear of what he was about to see and do. He had heard the stories, so many stories, of the various reactions that the sight of the Untempered Schism had provoked over the millennia. He had always known it was coming. At eight years old he was at the start of what was intended to be a very long life but Tyroankandra knew that what happened here would shape him forever.

    “Move.” The golden robed Time Lord behind him barked in a hushed tone, gently pushing him forward and breaking the young Galifreyan from his thoughts. He looked at the floor and took a deep intake of breath before moving forward towards the large chasm that housed the only known gap in time and space itself. Tyroankandra stopped again, a few feet away from the edge this time, before shuffling forward slightly and peering over the edge.

    Instantaneously he saw everything. Everything that ever was, would be and could have been. The entire history of the Time Lords entered his mind and for a few moments it was all he could register. He was no longer in the chamber peering in to the Schism, he was everywhere and everywhen all at once. He saw all of the good the Time Lords had given to the universe and all of the bad. He saw rulers sitting in their chambers as planets burned and races died, but at the same time he saw individuals willing to sacrifice themselves to save them.

    A gentle hand on his shoulder bought him back to his present, and Tyroankandra realised he hadn’t needed to be afraid. He had been told of Time Lords who had run away at the sight of what he had just witnessed, not being able to bear it. He also knew that some of the greatest Time Lords in history had claimed to have been inspired by what they had seen. Tyroankandra, however, felt both. He had seen the great power he could harness, given the choice, and seen the good he could do if he chose not to take it. He had been inspired, but not in the same way as Borusa or the other Lord Presidents before him. He knew that one day he would run away, not because he was afraid, but because he would have to.
    He was once again interrupted from his thoughts by his Time Lord mentor, Axelle, who placed his hand on the young boys shoulder once more.

    “Now the oath.” He said softly, with a smile. Tyroankandra looked up to him, and couldn’t help but wonder what the old man had expected from him. His old face looked down with pride, and at that moment the young Gallifreyan knew that Axelle had expected him to run away. He turned back to face the chasm and closed his eyes. He had been practising this for what felt like his entire life, so much so that the words were relayed from his brain almost automatically.

    "I swear to protect the ancient Law of Gallifrey with all my might and brain. I will to the end of my days, with justice and with honour temper my actions and my thoughts."
    He raised his head high and opened his eyes, to the sight of Axelle beaming at him, his old features framed by the magnificent golden collar and skull cap. In his hands was a golden robe, emblazoned with the same patterns and seal of his own.

    “Tyroankandra.” He smiled, placing the robe around the boys’ shoulders. He held his arms out awkwardly and shrugged it on. “I hereby induct you in to the Time Lord Academy of Gallifrey.” He paused, placing a golden hat, the same style of his own, on the junior Time Lords’ head, taking care to cover all of his rather long dark brown hair.

    “Wear these robes with pride. They represent our past, and your future as a member of the Prydonian Chapter.”

    “Of course,” Axelle frowned, but quickly followed it with a smile, grateful that his newest regeneration showed far less wrinkles and signs of age than his previous one. Realising he had paused slightly too long, he continued quickly with his lecture, “not all Time Lords are as dedicated to preserving the First Law of Time as the High Council. Some choose to ignore it where as others deliberately go out of their way to break it.”
    He placed a hand on small clear sphere which sat on the desk in front of him and closed his eyes. From the sphere various images were projected. The first a grinning man wearing a hat and a long scarf, followed by another with dark hair, menacing eyes and a beard.

    The old Time Lord immediately caught the look of excitement on Tyroankandras’ face as the image of the Doctor had appeared. Although the appearance of young Time Lords body had stopped matching his actual age many decades ago, Axelle only ever saw the boy he had inducted in to the academy. The one with all the questions about what had been, not concerned with what was to come. Occasionally Axelle wondered why that was, whether something he had seen in the Schism that day had given him a reason not to think about the future, but instead focus on the past. The teacher would never spend long pondering this however. He was instead so pleased that someone shred the same thirst for knowledge as he did, the same desire to know what had shaped their society, and those outside.

    As he looked out from his podium on his class of seven Time Lords in training, Axelle didn’t have any resentment, even when faced with the countless rows of empty benches towering above him. In fact he was grateful that he had so many pupils, the most he had ever taught. He had learnt many years ago that a society that can travel through time at will has very little need for historians. Those with enough interest would go back to see it themselves. Axelle however, never had. He had the option, of course, as did every Time Lord, but he had chosen to stay on Gallifrey, learn from the records and create the ones that were missing. It was all well and good, he thought, to witness history happen but all you would see was the there and then, not the effects of the event itself, all of the ripples reaching out from that particular point, creating their own waves in the future.

    “They’re not the same though, are they Mentor.” Tyro, as he had taken to being called, said in the moment of silence. Axelle knew his student well enough to know that it wasn’t a question.
    “That depends on perspective.” Axelle replied, non-committedly, watching Tryos’ eyes light up. He knew that look, the one the young Tryo would get whenever he heard news of the Doctor, his chestnut eyes glimmering, almost matching his shoulder length hair. Even though his body now had the appearance of a twenty-something, Axelle was sure that look would never leave him.

    “Don’t let him start, Mentor.” Another pupil piped up. He wore the silver robes of the Dromeian Chapter and sat directly next to Tyro. “We all know how Tyro gets when you start talking about the Doctor.” He nudged Tyro in the ribs. “You like a renegade, don’t you?”
    “Rather him than the Master, Suress.” Tyro said seriously, not joining in with the fun. “When the Doctor disobeys the First Rule, it’s to help others. The Master does it for his own gain, that’s not what it should be used for.”
    “Smarter idea though.” Suress muttered. “If you are going to use our power over time, it might as well be for your own good.”
    “And that,” Axelle said loudly, pointing straight at the dark haired Suress, “is exactly why the First Rule of Time is in place. History shows it is far too easy to overstep the line between selflessness and selfishness. Hence if no one can use the power, it cannot be abused.”
    “Yet we do not punish those who do abuse it.” A third student added. She wore the pink-purple robes of the Patrex Chapter. “History shows that despite non-interference being a ‘law’, neither the Doctor or the Master have ever been properly punished. I hardly think a short term exile and being made Lord President are much of a consequence for breaking what is supposed to be the corner stone of our society. “
    “It depends.” Tyro muttered, only loud enough for Suress to hear. “I certainly wouldn’t wish the Presidency on my worst enemy.”
    “A very good point Lorendria.” Axelle nodded. This was entirely why he studied and taught history the way he did. He loved to hear the opinions on what had happened, and what potentially should have happened. “I’m afraid however, all this talk of renegades has bought us to the end of this session. We will continue next time”
    He placed his hand on the desk in front of him and closed his eyes, concentrating as seven small cubes formed from nothing, filling with his memories of the past hour. As the students left the auditorium each picked a cube and took it with them, their record of the days lesson.

    “Tyroankandra.” Axelle said kindly as his favourite student walked past him. “Remember what we talked about.” Tyro looked back at him, blankly as he brushed a long strand of hair from his face. “He may have saved many lives, but he is still a renegade. The doctor deserves no more respect than the Master.”
    “Respectfully,” Tyro replied, “that is your opinion, Mentor.”
    “And that of the Time Lord society.”
    “If that is so, why is what Lorendria said true? If he really is a criminal, why does our society still allow him to continue and even grant him privileges? If the council disapproved that much, he would be stripped of his TARDIS, or even executed. So why is he still alive?”
    Axelle smiled at his young student. They had shared many a debate like this over the years.
    “That, my boy, only history can tell us.” He paused, only continuing as Tyro made his way from the room. “The history that has been, and that which has yet to come.”

    Tyro watched in suspense for the few moments that the eight sided die span through the air, before landing in the middle of the Sepulchasm board. As his three pieces moved of their own accord around the relief of a mountain side, adorned with replicas of the Great Houses of Gallifrey, Tyro couldn’t help but notice that his opponent didn’t seem his usual self.
    “Your roll Suress.” Tyro reminded him, prompting his on-and-off friend to pick the die from the table. “I can’t help but notice,” he paused, waiting to see the outcome of the roll. “That you’ve not been your usual self lately.” He continued, watching Suress’ coloured pieces move around the board, which was mounted on a pedestal between the two of them. “You’ve not belittled me for at least a few months.” Tyro smiled, trying to provoke a reaction. Years ago, he would have never have believed he would be trying to get Suress to talk. In fact, during their first semester in the Academy, he would have given anything to make the Dromeian stop talking.
    “Have you ever heard of Eighth Man Bound?” Suress finally said quietly, as he passed the die to the long haired Time Lord. Tyro nodded, leaning his head slightly, wondering where this was going. Of course he had heard of the game, but he had never seen it being played, yet alone taken part.

    From what Tyro understood, Eighth Man Bound involved a single Time Lord surrounded by a circle of his peers, all whom would chant the individuals name constantly, until it lost all meaning, in an attempt to cause temporary loss of identity. This in turn would allow the Time Lord in question to enter a state of non-being, and sub-consciously move through his future incarnations. Tyro had heard rumours that at least fifteen deaths or regenerations each semester were related to the game. It wasn’t this danger though, that had kept Tyro from playing, he simply had no interest in seeing his future. He had been offered to play once, but everything within him steered him away.
    “You played?” Tyro asked, immediately realising it was a redundant question.
    “A few months ago.” He replied.
    “I couldn’t see past my first regeneration. My second incarnation.” Suress sighed, looking to the ground.
    “That’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Tyro smiled, trying to be reassuring. “I hear it takes practice to see even beyond the third regeneration.” He also knew that the Time Lord that held the ‘record’ for the game had only seen as far as his seventh regeneration, hence the name of the game.

    “You don’t understand, Tyro.” Suress continued, as Tyro threw the die. ”I ventured past my second regeneration, but there wasn’t anything to see.”

    On this, Tyro looked up from the board, to the despair in his fellow Time Lords eyes. As a race they were blessed with longer lives than many, yet death was still something to be feared, no matter how far away it was.

    “Maybe you just couldn’t see it.” Tyro shrugged. “Maybe if you try again..”
    “No.” Suress cut him off. “There was nothing to see. I could tell.”

    Tyro was trying to think of something to say, when he realised the die had settled on the table. Face up was the number 45.
    “Sepulchasm!” Both Time Lords shouted in unison, as the model mountains on the board started to crack, a miniature earthquake ravaging the replica land. Both Tyro and Suress concentrated intently on the board, keeping their own individual pieces hovering over the gaping chasm growing across the game board.
    The moments seemed to last forever as Tyro focused his mind on keeping his coloured pieces in the air. The game would only be over when one of them lost concentration and let their counters fall to their doom. He and Suress had played several times, and were more or less on par. In fact, last time the pair had played, they had both kept their pieces suspended for almost half an hour before Tyros’ concentration had lapsed, giving Suress the victory.

    “A sign of things to come.”
    A soft voice behind Tyro said sadly, he tried to block it out, but his focus was gone. Luckily for him, however, it seemed Suress’ attention had been drawn away first.
    “Thanks Lorendria.” Suress sneered, as his pieces plummeted in to the fissure that ran across the board. As the crack sealed itself, Tyro lowered his pieces back down.
    “Sorry Suress.” The blonde Time Lady replied, turning away. “I’m so sorry.”

    Lorendria sat on the floor of her chamber, her eyes closed and knees crossed, her purple robe flowing around her body. The room was very plain, as was the norm with Academy quarters, although other students, Tyro included, had been known to decorate them to suit their own tastes. The young Time Lady had no interest in that, however. In order to keep her mind clear, she was of the opinion that her quarters had to be the same.
    At that moment in time, however, her mind way anything but clear. The future flowed through her head, as it did with every member of the Patrex Chapter. They were well known on Gallifrey for having an amazing sense of precognition, although very few ever used it regularly, and especially not for their own gain. Lorendria, however, knew that she had to try. She had to make sense of what she had seen all of those months ago.

    Ever since the vision had come to her, out of nowhere, she had tried to recall it, to perhaps see more of what was to come. She couldn’t change it, she knew that, but she had to know what happened, or more accurately, was going to happen. Even if she did manage to tune in to that part of the future again, Lorendria knew that she would have the same dilemma as she faced right now. Her oath as a Patrex forbade her to pass on her knowledge of the future to anyone outside of the High Council, and even then the circumstances had to be extremely dire in order to allow it. She had already said too much.

    Suddenly, a loud knock on the door bought her back to the present. She blinked a few times, and wiped away the tear that she wasn’t even aware she had shed.

    “Enter.” She said getting to her feet as the door slid open to reveal Tyro. As usual he was dressed in his golden robes but, as usual, his hat was missing, allowing his hair to flow down over his shoulders.
    “Shouldn’t you be studying?” She asked coldly, already anticipating what the visit was about.
    “Probably.” Tyro grinned. “But since when has that ever been a reason not to be somewhere?”
    Lorendria rolled her eyes.

    “So, did you want something?”
    “Just to make sure you were ok.” He said genuinely.
    “Why wouldn’t I be?” She snapped,
    “Well, we’ve not seen you since your odd little appearance in the games room. I’ve already got Suress acting weird and depressive on me, the last thing I need is for you to disappear too.”

    Lorendria paused for a moment, before forcing a smile. Tyro looked straight at her, and she knew he could see through her act. He knew when she was really happy, as her eyes lit up to a brilliant electric blue, not the subdued blue-grey they were now.

    “It’s just my duties.” She lied. “I have been assigned to look in to the future of Earth.” She knew that would help change the subject.
    “Fantastic!” Tyro exclaimed, fidgeting excitedly. “Sometimes I wish I could see what you see, just experience that little bit of Earth.”
    “Because spending almost every day in the databanks isn’t enough?” She teased. “Sometimes I think you know more about that planet than you do our own home.”
    “That’s because there’s more to know.” A wide grin spread over his rather long face. “Hundreds of cultures spread over one planet, hundreds of languages and ways of life, not just the six Chapters we have here. Who could ever get bored learning about all of that.”
    “I could.” Lorendria groaned. “I see enough, thank you very much. I can take my own conclusions from that. I don’t need to know the history behind every civilization. That’s where we differ.” She gestured him towards the door. “I live in the future, literally sometimes, whilst you are so obsessed with the past.”
    “I like the past.” Tyro defended himself, stepping through the door way.
    “You like the certainty of knowing what happened.” She corrected him. “There’s a difference. You can’t run away from the future just because you don’t know what it holds, Tyro.” She turned away from him as the door started to slide closed and another tear started to run down her cheek. “However much you might want to.”

    It was growing late in to the evening, and as usual Tyro was sat in the Archive Chamber, alone. The room was a large one, designed as a resource for the whole academy. As such the walls were lined with screens, each connected to an interface panel, showing the student any information they required from the databank. Tyro had long learnt when his follow junior Time Lords commonly used the facility, and instead only came when he knew it was deserted. As such, the white walled room was lit up by different databank entries on Earth history and culture. Tyro had long gotten bored of only reading up on one subject at a time, and had perfected taking in information from every screen at once. His mind raced over every terminal, taking everything instantaneously, dates, places, names.
    But suddenly it stopped. It had taken him a moment to notice, but something was wrong. Tyro blinked himself out of his self-imposed trance, and concentrated on one screen in particular.

    “The magnificent city of Atlantis stands as one of the greatest sites of Sol 3. The island city was almost destroyed thousands of years in Earth’s past, but its destruction was prevented by the Time Lords, acting through their agent, the Doctor.”

    Not quite believing what he was reading, Tyro scanned the screen again, before quickly moving on..
    “Sol 3 saw many invasion attempts in its twentieth century, all of which were thwarted by the Doctor, working in the capacity of an off world Time Lord agent, his purpose to ensure time progressed as intended.”
    “If not for the immediate action of the Time Lord High Council, it is likely Earth would have been completely destroyed by the Dalek invasion.”

    “No.” He said quietly. “That’s not how it happened at all.” Tyro reached for a screen interface, when a cold voice behind him stopped him in his tracks.
    “But of course it is, young one.”

    Tyro turned around, recognising the Archivist, keeper of all Gallifreyan records.
    “Your mentor, Axelle, compiled most of them, after all.” His old, cruel face curled in to a snarl, grey hair poking from underneath his green and brown skullcap.
    “But..” Tyro stuttered, feeling like a young boy again, challenging his superiors. “With respect, I have read these archives many times. They’ve changed.” He paused. “Everyone knows the Doctor doesn’t work for the High Council. He can’t abide politics and power.”
    “That may be the appearance.” The Archivist sneered. “But you can’t argue with the written word. You, as a lover of history should know that. The past is the only certainty, isn’t that what Axelle says?”
    “I’ll have to see what he says.” Tyro snapped. “He’ll prove me right.”
    “I’m afraid,” the Archivist started, reaching in to his robe. “I can’t let you do that.”

    With a speed that defied his apparent age, the old Time Lord revealed a silver staser, the weapon of the Chancellery Guard. Everyone on Gallifrey knew one of these weapons on sight, they were well known for being the only effective means of offense on the planet. For in a society where one simply moves on to another life after death, a weapon to completely disable the regenerative process was the only way to be sure the target was no more.

    Tyro barely had time to move before the weapon was pointed straight at him, barely had time to make a sound as the trigger was pulled, and the energy blast struck him dead centre in the chest. As he fell backwards, all the young Time Lord could see in his mind were the images he had seen all of those years ago as he looked in to the Untempered Schism, and as his eyes closed for the final time he wondered if this was why he had never wanted to look to his future.

    The Archivist groaned, a muscle in his back reminded him he must have been close to another regeneration, as he dragged Tyros’ body from the middle of the room where it had fallen. He looked around the room quickly, trying to find some way to conceal the body. Death had never been his intention, but he knew Tyroankandra would never have been convinced by any yearn he could have spun. The old Tie Lord almost gave up hope, before spying an old, non-descript unit in the corner. It was completely white, so almost blended in with the walls.

    “Perfect.” He hissed, dragging his victim to the antiqued TARDIS. “We’ve been meaning to have this old thing decommissioned. Seems like you have given me the perfect excuse. No need to keep an old Type 51 around anymore.”

    He slid the door open quickly, and with no grace at all, pushed the body through on to the floor. He didn’t enter, but instead just closed the door and walked away.

    “You always did like history, Tyroankandra.” The Archivist muttered. “This time tomorrow you’ll be thrown in to the Eye of Harmony itself. Part of Time Lord history forever.”

    As the door opened, the TARDIS console room lit up, as if welcoming someone home. The Time Rotor in the centre of the console moved slightly, but stopped when the lifeless body of the Time Lord hit her floor, and the doors were closed again.

    The white walls were embossed with circular panels, each concealing a different part of circuitry and systems. Some of the panels were missing, having never been replaced after maintenance or perhaps used for spare parts. The console too, looked as if it had met a similar fate, the occasional button and lever missing. The buttons that did survive, however, slowly started to light up, one at a time at first, and then all started to pulse in unison. The Time Rotor shuddered again, as if struggling to move after all of this time. The movement was slow and strained at first, until it became regular, as if the machine was learning all over again.

    The column lit up with a bright light, filling the console room for a few moments, and illuminating the stationary body of the Time Lord, face down on the floor.

    All of a sudden, Tyro’s right hand began to twitch, and then his left. Very quickly, they both faded away, replaced a moment later by brand new hands. His long brown hair faded away abandoning his shoulders and settling at a chestnut brown that finished at a more appropriate length down the back of his neck.
    With a gasp, Tyro turned over, and shot up from the floor.

    “Odd!” He shouted excitedly. “I should probably be dead.” He stopped himself. “Oops, being pessimistic again, wasn’t I? They always said, ‘got to look on the bright side Tyro.” He grinned and continued rambling to himself. “Nothing like not dying to make you look on the bright side. Still,hoped I would have gotten more than 87 years out of that one.” He held both arms out in front of him and frowned. “Still a bit weedy though, shame that. Still, who needs brawn when you’ve got brains?” He ran a hand across his head, as if demonstrating to the TARDIS. “And hair!” He smiled. “Should have done this a while ago! Only kept it long because there wasn’t much of it otherwise.” He circled the console, taking in every detail as he ran a finger over a dusty set of buttons.

    As if in response, the Time Rotor stopped suddenly, making an unbearable grinding noise.
    “Oh yes!” Tyro exclaimed. “Was doing something wasn’t I. Someone rewriting Time Lord history. Agh!” He suddenly doubled up in pain, grabbing hold of the console. “Need to find the Doctor!” He struggled, before the burst of pain faded. He looked down at himself, still dressed in his Prydonian robes.
    “But first,“ He grinned, flicking controls randomly on the console and hoping it looked like he knew what he was doing, “I need to go shopping!”
  2. Teapot

    Teapot Virtual Duck Enthusiast
    Staff Member Administrator

    You already know how much I like this story. I'm looking forward to more!

    (And to see what clothes you've decided on for Tyro)
  3. Nemesis

    Former Administrator

    Outfit coming in Chapter 3, I promise!

    Tyro was thrown across the console room as the TARDIS buffeted around violently, the Rotor groaning loudly, just about drowning out the Time Lords shouts of combined fear and pain.

    “I don’t know what your complaining about!” She shouted to the machine, struggling to hold on to the console. “I’m the one that’s just had his whole genetic structure rewritten!” In response, a red light started to flash on one of the console panels. “Oh.” Tyro said sheepishly. “Automatic Power Cue. Right.” He flicked the switch, and leaned in close to the rising Time Rotor. “Happy now?”

    He groaned as another several banks of buttons lit up around the hexagonal console.
    “There’s only one of me!” Tyro snapped, as he started pressing buttons and turning levers. “And it’s not exactly a smooth ride for me either you know!”

    Eventually the screeching noise settled to the more familiar grinding noise Tyro was used to hearing from a TT Capsule. It was still a little loud, but he put that down to it being a rather old model.
    “Happy now?” He asked with a smile, as the monitor set in to the console lit up with various read outs. “Now,” he continued thoughtfully, trying to remember back to his TT flight classes “pre-flight checks complete, co-ordinates set for Sol 3.” A wide smile spread over his new face.

    He had dreamt for so many years of travelling to Earth, to take in the culture and see their history, and now it was going to happen. He knew of course, he would have to come back, someday, to put right whatever was happening here on Gallifrey, but that, he thought, was the beauty of a Time Machine. It didn’t really matter how long he was gone for.

    As the TARDIS prepared to dematerialise, something in the back of his mind made him think of Axelle. Maybe he should go and warn him first, he thought. He owed his mentor that at least. Throughout his life so far, Axelle had been the only real constant, the support he knew he could rely on, no matter how much their opinions differed sometimes. Tyro still remembered, as a young boy, how hard he had found it when Axelle had regenerated. Of course, the old Time Lord had changed bodies many times before, but to Tyro it was as if the man he had looked up to had gone forever, replaced by someone new. It didn’t take long, however, for Tyro to take to his mentors’ new form. His face and personality may have changed, but Axelle had proven many a time that he was still the same man he always had been. He couldn’t just disappear. He had to go back, for Axelle, Lorendria, and maybe even Suress. He owed them a warning at least.

    He turned towards the TARDIS doors, his mind made up, when another wave of pain hit. Bent over double, Tyro used the edge of the console to support himself, rising back to his feet moments later.

    “That had better stop.” He moaned. “Now, where was I?” He cocked his head slightly, and narrowed his eyes, trying to remember, before turning back to the console. “Oh that was it, Sol 3!”


    The Archive Chamber was filled with the groaning of the TARDIS by the time the Archivist had returned.
    “No!” He cursed, watching as the white cabinet faded away before his eyes. He couldn’t believe it. In all of his years he had never seen even a Time Lord survive a direct hit from a staser. The boy had been dead, he knew it yet the TARDIS could not have taken off on its own.

    Suddenly, the Archivist heard hurried footsteps from outside the chamber. He quickly composed himself, making sure his staser was once again hidden beneath his robes.

    “Everything in order?” The Chancellery Guard asked, flanked by a peer, wearing an identical red uniform with a white trim, and a grey robed student.
    “Oh course.” The old Time Lord nodded, gesturing to the young man with the two guards. “Not neglecting your studies I hope?”
    “No.” He snapped back. “I’m,”
    “He’s shadowing us.” The first guard interrupted. “He’ll make a fine guard one day, will young Suress here.”
    “We heard a capsule.” Suress stepped forward, staring straight at the Archivist, catching site of a flickering screen in the corner of his eye.
    “What? Impossible.”
    “Dematerialising.” He continued, unphased. “Unmistakeable.”
    “Well,” The Archivist gave a sickly smile. “I am afraid this time it was mistakable. You were wrong.”

    “Suress!” The second guard snapped. “Show some respect. You do not question your superiors. I am very sorry.” He bowed.
    “No need.” The Archivist replied. “Now, was there something else?”
    “No.” The first guard answered. “We will continue our patrol. Sorry for the intrusion.”
    “Not at all.”

    As he followed the two guards out, Suress turned back, his eyes fixed on the various screens around the room, all showing different rows of text and pictures. He recognised them immediately.
    “Suress!” The guard called, hurrying him along. Suress obeyed, but not before glaring straight in to the old eyes of the Archivist. The Time Lord simply turned away, avoiding his gaze and deactivated the nearest monitor.

    The Dromeian turned away, leaving the room, but knowing he would be back. Something wasn’t right.

    The TARDIS shuddered one final time as the Time Rotor came to rest and the console room stopped shaking, allowing Tyro to get his balance properly for the first time since the ship had dematerialised. He bit his lip slightly before activating the external scanner. He had never flown a TARDIS before, not outside of Gallifrey, and never on his own. He knew of fully experienced Time Lords who still hadn’t mastered their capsules.

    Therefore, it was to his own great surprise when the scanner showed him a large shopping center, or at least that was what he assumed it was, judging by pictures he had seen. He grinned, watching groups of humans scurry about, bags in hand.
    “Better than I expected.” He congratulated himself. “Thought for a minute there I was going to end up in a volcano..” He looked to the screen again, noticing the large amount of people wearing jeans and hoodies. “Mind you, could have been a better time period, something a bit, brighter.” With that, the TARDIS shook slightly. “Ok, fine.” He gave a large fake smile. “I’m on Earth. That’s great, brightside. But I’m not wearing jeans.”

    “Stop crying!” The girl said, with compassion not anger, as she leant over the back of the buggy she was pushing. If anyone had taken the time to notice, which today it felt like no one would, they would have seen the bags under her eyes, and noticed the tell-tale split ends in her dark hair that revealed she hadn’t been to a decent hairdresser in a while. The truth was, she just didn’t care. There wasn’t any time to care about that sort of thing anymore, not since Lucy had come along.

    Alex loved her daughter to pieces, but she knew it was hard work taking care of a new born baby as a fully supportive couple, let alone coping on her own as she had been forced to. Her family had said it was selfish, taking a child that young away for a holiday, but Alex knew they both needed it. Lucy hadn’t seen the best of her, and never would whilst she was running around trying to make ends meat and provide for them both.

    “Just need to get the passport photos.” She cooed over the back of the pushchair. “Then it’s back home, I promise.”

    She made her way to the back wall, avoiding the people who seemed to be walking straight at her on purpose, aiming for the row of photo booths. It was then she stopped in her tracks. It wasn’t normal for her to notice people whilst out shopping, she was normally too busy to, but they again it wasn’t normal for someone to step out of a photo booth wearing a full length golden cloak.

    “So it does work.” He beamed, looking over the row of photo booths, all showing multiple identical pictures of a smiling woman. “Perfectly in fact.” He was impressed. Tyro, like most Time Lords had never seen a Chameleon Circuit working properly. On Gallifrey, there was very little for a TARDIS to disguise itself as, unlike here on Earth. He looked from a distance at the blue curtain that was now the door to his new ship, and tried not to relate it to the large white doors he had exited through moments earlier.

    “More important things to worry about.” He said to himself. “Like changing these clothes. People staring.” He paused. “Although I am talking to myself.”

    Tyros’ attention was soon drawn away however, when he caught sight of a large shop across the way from him, large red signs saying “SALE” and mannequins in windows. He frowned slightly, before talking himself round.
    “I’m sure they don’t just sell jeans.”

    “Where’s Tyro?” Suress demanded, striding in to the Archive Chamber.
    “I don’t know, my boy.” The Archivist replied. “What’s wrong, heard another TT capsule have we?”
    “You know what I’m talking about.” Suress shouted, walking closer to where the old man sat. “I saw those screens. All databank entries on Earth.”
    “I fail to see your point.” The Archivist sneered. “Your young friend in not he only one with interest in that small insignificant planet you know. I was researching.”
    “On every screen?” The junior Time Lord countered. “Tyro’s the only one sad enough to do that.”
    “You give young Tyronakandra too much credit. He is by no means the first Time Lord to master the absorption of data from multiple sources using a slight psychic trance.”

    Suress looked the old man straight in the eyes, which somehow seemed to have undertaken a much more sinister look to them.
    “You’ve got me there.” He admitted. “But your forgetting that I’m training with the Chancellery Guard.”
    “Although I admire your ambition, if longing to be a lowly guard can be called that, I fail to see what that has to do with this conversation.”
    Suress held back his anger at the insult.
    “And you also failed to realise that it means I have access to the Archive Databank. I know for a fact that Tyro accessed all of those files.”
    “Perhaps he did.” The Archivist responded, trying to anticipate the young Time Lords next move. It was too early to play his trump card yet, he knew that. “He must have left before I arrived. A simple explanation I’m sure.”
    “As did the TARDIS I suppose? The one that was on record as being stored in this room?”
    “Oh, back to that again?” He snapped. “Why don’t you spare us both this mundane conversation and accuse me of whatever it is you think I have done?”
    “Well.” Suress stuttered, suddenly on the back foot. “I know something isn’t right here!” He shouted, feeling something snap inside his head. “No one has seen Tyro since he accessed these files!”
    “So I must have had something to do with it?” The Archivist replied calmly. “What an angry young man you are, Suress. Why is that, I wonder?” He continued, rising to his feet. “Perhaps it’s because you know that all of your peers are soaring above you, conducting research in to temporal physics?” He walked slowly around Suress, circling him like a vulture. “Or perhaps because you believe you are destined to walk these hallways in one of those wretched uniforms for the rest of your days?”

    He came face to face with Suress once more, and leant toward him. The young Time Lord remained still, his fists clenched with anger and fear.

    “Or maybe,” The Archivist whispered in to his ear, “it’s because you know that, unlike me, you will never grow to be old?”

    Shocked, Suress swept backwards, his eyes locked on the cruel twisted smile on the old mans’ face.
    “How do you know that?” He demanded, lunging towards the Archivst. The Time Lord did not react, however, but held out a single arm, palm facing outwards, that stopped Suress in his tracks.

    “I have become known amongst our people as something as a…” he searched for the word. “Confidant. Particularly for the young.” He placed a hand on Suress’ shoulder, who violently shrugged it away. “It is a great burden that is placed on you all.” He said sadly, in such a tone that Suress believed his regret. “I try to help where I can, to share that burden. Listen when no one else can.”

    Suress was beginning to calm down now, his breathing still deep, but he remained still as the Archivist placed an arm around his shoulder once more.

    “And what’s that got to do with me? With Tyro?”

    “Come with me,” The Archivist said softly, a thin smile spreading over his wrinkled face. “And I will explain everything.”

    “No! No! No!” Tyro shouted rapidly, throwing hanger after hanger of clothing from the rail and on to a pile on the floor behind him. If the Time Lord had been worried about people staring before, it was a good thing he was too busy concentrating on clothes to notice the various groups of people pointing and whispering in his direction.

    Eventually a member of staff, dressed in a navy blue uniform, walked towards him, encouraged by her colleagues. She rolled her eyes as she looked back at them. She was part time, just like them. How come she always had to deal with the weirdos.

    “Excuse me sir?” She said politely, standing what she felt to be a safe distance away. There was no response.

    “Erm, sir? Excuse me?” She repeated a bit louder this time. After a few seconds the young robed man shot around on the spot, beaming at her.
    “You mean me?” He emphasised, pointing at his own chest.”
    “Er, yes.” She hesitated, nervously playing with her blonde hair.
    “Sorry.” He replied. “Never been called Sir before.” He stopped to think about it. “I think I kind of like it.”
    “Right.” She continued, determined to stay polite. She didn’t need another warning. “Well, can I help you?”
    Tyro simply looked straight back at her, eyes wide.
    “Can I help you, sir?” She repeated, beginning to wish she hadn’t volunteered for this.
    He smiled once again, looking around at the pile of clothes that surrounded him.
    “Could probably use some help, yeah.” He nodded.
    “Well, we offer a personal shopper service, I can..”
    “Great!” He exclaimed, taking hold of the surprised assistants arm. “Just what I need.”
    “But I don’t..” She started, before being cut off again.
    “Nonsense!” Tyro said, stepping carefully from the wreckage of discard clothes. “You’ll be perfect. I’m open to suggestions.” He paused, a serious look appearing over his face. “But under any circumstances, no matter how flattering they are, I’m not wearing jeans.”
    “Tyro was in the Archive Chamber, I will admit that.” The Archivist explained to Suress, who was now seated in the Archivist’s quarters. As he had expected, the room was full of data spools, and even the occasion book.
    “Then where did he go?” Suress asked, slightly dumbfounded. He had entered the Archive Chamber with a plan, or at least part of one, but when that had been exhausted the Time Lord didn’t know quite which path to take next.
    “You were right on that front to.” The Archivist smiled. “Very observant.”
    “You mean?”
    “Yes Suress.” The old man nodded solemnly. “He stole that TARDIS, the type 51. It seems young Tyroankandra has gone renegade.
    “I don’t believe it.” Suress snapped, shooting to his feet.
    “You don’t want to believe it.” The Archivist corrected. “Neither do I, but I have proof.”
    He walked over to a storage unit mounted on one of the walls, his back to Suress.
    “The databank files he had open, I saw them change in front of my eyes.”
    “We all know he was obsessed with Earth history.” The Archivist continued. “Perhaps it had begun to turn him insane, it wasn’t enough to just read about it anymore. He wanted to live it.”
    “But Tyro wouldn’t start changing things!” Suress replied, defending his friend. “He always said our power over time should never be used for that.”
    “I’m sure even the Master said that once.” The senior Time Lord said, turning back to face Suress. “But power corrupts. Now Tyroankandra has started to rewrite history, and I don’t know where he will stop.”

    There were a few moments of silence as Suress tried to take in what he was hearing.
    “Then inform the High Council!” He said suddenly. “They will bring him back.”
    “I can’t do that. “ He stared straight at Suress. “You are young, you haven’t seen the things I have seen. Young Time Lords atomised even for merely using the gift of Time Travel to change history in a small way. They would not stand for this.”
    “But, the Doctor!” Suress argued.
    “The Doctor is only still alive because the Time Lords know they can use him. The Master too. Young Tyroankandra would not be lucky. No, I cannot tell them.”
    “Then what do we do?” The dark haired Time Lord snapped. “And what’s this go to do with me?”
    “We must find Tyroankandra.” The Archivist stated, emotionless. “And I cannot leave Gallifrey, so it is up to you. You must find him and stop him, immediately.”
    “Why would I do that? I don’t want to see him executed!”
    “Think about it Suress.” The Archivist said quietly, stepping closer. “If your friend can re-write history, then so can we.” He gave his sickly grin. “I can save you. Bring Tyrankandra back to me, and you will see many more than two lives.”

    A few minutes passed as the two Time Lords stood in silence, the proposal repeating in Suress’ head. He knew he could never bring himself to let Tyro be executed, but maybe it didn’t have to be that way. Maybe Tyro had a reasonable explanation, or if not he was sure Axelle would step in. He wouldn’t let the Time Lords sentence his greatest student to death. That was it, his mind was made up.
    “I’ll do it.” Suress nodded.
    “I knew you would see sense.” The Archivist said with a smile, as he reached in to his robes and stabbed the young Time Lord straight through his first heart.

  4. Nemesis

    Former Administrator

    “How do I look?” Tyro exclaimed, bursting out of the changing room, leaving the door swinging behind him.
    “Erm,” his accosted shop assistant hesitated, “Well, when you said you wanted casual, smart and formal, I didn’t quite realise you meant all at the same time.”
    Tyro just stared at her blankly.
    “Why not?” He slid past her, towards a full length mirror, grinning as he saw his outfit, and his new face, for the first time.

    The first thing he noticed was that his chin was a lot less pointy than it had been, bit of a better bone structure around the cheeks. And stubble! He felt the side of his face and under his chin with one hand. Good length, he noted.

    Relatively pleased with his new facial appearance, Tyros’ attention shot down to his feet, and the clunky combat boots. Practical, he’d thought as he’s thrown them in to the shopping basket that the young girl was following him around with.

    Given the lack of options on the trouser front, the Time Lord had opted for combats, with a grey camouflage pattern. Choosing these had taken the most time, mainly due to the shop assistant insisting he tried jeans.
    “What have you got against denim?” She had snapped, after a frustrating half an hour.
    “Nothing personally.” He had replied nonchalantly. He knew there was more to it than that though, something ingrained within his head steering him away from the garments. Never mind, he had thought. He could worry about that later.

    Of the many shirts he had seen, he had picked a red and black check pattern one, the reds very pale and pastel, the blacks varying in shade. On top of that, he had chosen a very smart silver waistcoat, buttoned completely down the front, with a single pocket on the left breast.

    “Not bad.” He commented, to himself mainly. “Given what I had to work with. He felt around his neck again. “Missing something though.” He quickly glanced around the area in which they were standing, full of accessories, belts and jewellery. Immediately he spotted the perfect accompaniments to his new outfit.

    The shop assistant rolled her eyes as he pulled the label from the yellow and black checked neckerchief, and tied it around his neck, covering his shirt collar.
    “Buttons!” He exclaimed suddenly, flying around to the other side of the display which housed several packs of small buttons, each with different designs. Tyro grabbed the first one on the top row of pegs, and ripped the cardboard and plastic packaging open.
    “Don’t worry.” He said, noticing the look on the girls face, as he threw the rest of the packet in to the basket. “I’ll pay for all of them.” Carefully he slid the pin of the badge he had chosen through the pocket of his waistcoat, a yellow smiley face now grinning from his chest.

    “Anything else sir?” The girl asked impatiently as the odd stranger admired his choice of clothes in the mirror once again.
    “Yes!” He shouted, a little too loudly, before dashing away, knowing exactly where he was heading.
    By the time she had caught up with him, Tyro was looking carefully at two packs of headphones that he held in his hands. His hands, which some point between leaving the changing area and now had acquired some black fingerless gloves.
    “Which ones do you think?” he asked, holding up the two choices. One set were small white earphones, the other large retro looking silver domed headphones.
    “Well, the white ones are a little more…subtle.” She said, choosing her words carefully.
    “Well, that decides it then.” He stated bluntly, throwing the smaller pack to the floor. “Who wants subtly?”

    The shop assistant watched in amazement as Tyro ripped open the tough plastic clamshell packaging with his teeth, throwing the plastic case in to the basket before placing the headphones around his neck and feeding the wire underneath his neckerchief, leaving it hanging freely.

    “Do you not have anything to plug it in to?” She asked.
    “Of course not.” He shook his head. “But never know when they might come in handy.”
    “Right.” She sighed. “So, is there anything else I can help you with sir?”

    Tyro looked to her, and then to the overflowing basket she was holding, full with different coloured check shirts and waistcoats.

    “Think I’m done.” He nodded, “Should probably…ah.” He stopped mid-sentence, feeling his new trouser pocket, not quite sure why he expected there to be a wallet in there. “Slight problem.”

    The girl looked back at him angrily. She had just spent the past two hours running around after this guy, and now it turned out he had no way to pay for the vast amount of clothes she’d been dragging around after him. She was about to start an angry rant at him, but very quickly had bigger things to worry about.

    The electrical display exploded in to a wall of flame, sending un-expecting customers flying to the floor.

    “Get down!” Tyro shouted, as a laser blast shot across the shop floor towards them. As another display erupted behind them, he lunged in to the assistant, but all to late as a blast struck her directly, her scream ringing through Tyros’ head as she hit the floor.

    “What the hell was that!” Suress screamed as his new face formed, now slumped back in to the Archivists’ chair. His hair remained dark, but it was much different than before, not long but very wild. “Thought you were going to help me!”
    “I did.” The Archivist hissed.
    “By forcing me to use the only regeneration I have?”
    “I told you, we will change that.” He replied calmly. “Besides, if you are going to find Tyroankandra you could not have done it as you were.”
    “And why not?” Suress challenged.
    “He was your friend; you were much to attached to him. Do you imagine he would have bought the renegade back to be executed?”
    “Attached to him!” Suress laughed. “You really think that? Ridiculous. I would disintegrate him myself if I had to”
    “Point proven.” The Archivist smirked. “Now you will be able to complete your mission, without your,” he corrected himself, “your old, personal feeling jeopardising it.”

    The old Time Lord turned away, a sickly grin forming. He had been forced to come up with the plan on the spot, but so far it seemed to be going perfectly. With Suress now fearing for his life, he would be forced to do whatever the Archivist told him to. This new man was open to being moulded, the fear and anger that surrounded his regeneration the perfect catalyst.

    “Now how do I find the renegade?” Suress asked, getting to his feet, grimacing a little as a burst of regenerative energy left his lips.
    “With this.” The Archivist pulled a small device from an pocket inside his robe and held his palm on it. Instantly, a white cabinet shimmered in to view in the middle of the room. “I have kept this hidden, slightly out of temporal sync, for emergencies. “ He explained, pushing the door open and leading Suress inside.
    “A Type 90.” the young Time Lord muttered, admiring the large black console room.
    “Designed as an enforcement capsule.” The Archivist continued. “Used to track down those breaking the First Rule and bringing them to justice. It will be more than enough for you to find and stop your young friend.”
    “Tyroankandra is no friend of mine.” Suress snarled. “I shall find him for the sake of Gallifrey.”
    “And yourself.” The old man reminded him sinisterly. “I can only help you if he is stopped. Otherwise, your future will pan out as you feared.”
    “I will not fail.” Suress vowed, as the Archivist left the console room.

    The newly regenerated Time Lord hissed with pain for a few moments, before admiring the controls of his new capsule. Everything looks perfect and new, and it seemed to have various features Suress had never seen before. The Archivist was right, this was the perfect enforcement ship, and now Suress was going to use it to bring Tyro to justice.

    No, no, no!” Tyro said sadly, turning the young girl over on to her back, laser fire still blasting overhead. He felt her wrists, and then her neck, but knew it was pointless. He looked over to the toppled basket of clothes she had been lugging around for him and knew that this was his fault. Although this was the first time he had set foot on Earth, and he wasn’t completely sure of the time period, he knew enough Earth history to be certain laser weapons were not common place. Something was after him, and this young girl had died because of that.

    It was then he realised that he didn’t even know her name. They had spent the last two hours together, during which she had been wearing a name badge, but he hadn’t even taken the time to read it. He gently slid her eyes closed, completely oblivious to the screaming around him and tried to look for her badge. He noticed a pin still attached to her shirt, but nothing else. He stood up, taking a deep breath, before noticing some broken plastic by his feet. He bent down and picked them up, piecing the shattered bits together the best he could.

    “Hello, my name is…Leanne.”

    He bit his lip sadly, looking down to her body.
    “I’m sorry.” He whispered, placing the broken pieces in his waistcoat pocket. “No more, I promise.”
    With that he turned away, aware once again of the barrage of laser fire lighting up the now empty shop floor. He didn’t see any other casualties, so hoped they had found somewhere safe. It had only just begun, he knew that, but was already realising why the Doctor was well known for almost never returning to somewhere he had visited. Tyro couldn’t look back to Leannes’ body, it was too painful. He couldn’t imagine how it would feel to have the lives of whole races on your conscience.

    Tyro ran across the shop floor, ducking and diving through racks of clothes. Suddenly a mannequin exploded in to thousands of plastic pieces next to him.
    “Don’t know who you are,” he shouted, perched behind a rail of large winter coats, “but let’s stop this now eh? I think they have a coffee shop upstairs, could always talk it over.” A rack of clothes next to his burst in to flames as a response.
    “Ok, that’s a no then.” He quickly scurried through the corridor of clothes, popping out at the other end, where he finally caught sight of his attacker.

    Stood in the large doorway of the store, between two security scanners, was a large silver robot, standing about seven foot tall. Its head contained one large red eye in the centre, which was pointing straight at him. The body was covered in tough armour, each arm ending in a four barrelled laser blaster.
    “Of course.” Tyro noted, quickly rolling out of the way of another laser blast. “Can’t drink coffee. No hands. How insensitive of me.” He cocked his head to one side. “No wonder you want to kill me.”

    The metal assassin held both arms out straight, each barrel of both weapons lighting up before eight laser blasts shot towards the young Time Lord. Tyro could see the busy shopping centre behind his attacker. Someone had set of the alarm after the first explosion, and it was now or less empty, everyone having been evacuated. At least that was something less to worry about, Tyro thought. The machine was only here for him, and had already had one more kill than the Time Lord was happy with.

    Quickly, Tryo ran straight at the robot, a laser shot narrowly missing his arm. He didn’t stop, however and ran straight through the security sensors, a loud beeping joining the alarms.
    “Must remember to take those tags off.” He noted, watching as the robot turned slowly on the spot. “Interesting.” He said, rapidly scanning the wall. “A slow assassin. Handy.”

    As he passed through the doorway of the store, Tryo pushed a button on the wall, and listened as the shutter began to descend from above him. By now, however, his attacker had the Time Lord back in its sights, laser arms outstretched.
    “Hurry up!” Tyro shouted slamming his fist in to the button. Instantly, the shutter began to fall, narrowly missing Tyro as he rolled out of the way, the silver metal now separating the Time Lord and the machine.
    “Well, that should by me some time.” He sighed, before noticing a red patch developing, spreading rather quickly.
    “Oh. Who’d have known he had a blow torch too.” He cursed, darting away from the store, trying to work out what to do next.


    Lorendria woke from her sleep suddenly, startled by a noise that she couldn’t quite hear. It was very rare nowadays for her to get any proper rest, the vision wouldn’t let her. She rubbed her eyes, and realised that she had been crying.

    “It’s started.” She said sadly, resting her head back on the pillow, eyes wide open.

    Tyro was starting to realise that he wasn’t the most resourceful Time Lord. He’d bought himself almost a minute before the robot had burst and smashed its way through the barricade, but in that time he had come up with exactly zero plans on how to escape. Well, that wasn’t quite true. He knew he could just get back to the TARDIS and leave, but then some poor human would have to deal with a killer robot. He had very quickly decided that he had done enough running away recently.

    He was running now, the mechanical killer following very slowly, but keeping near perfect aim, each shot hitting the ground where Tyro had been the moment before. He had worked out a pattern of weaving from side to side that the robot didn’t seem to be able to counteract. Right now he was very grateful that it was an early model. He had heard of robots that moved quicker than the eye could perceive, and knew he wouldn’t have stood much of a chance against something like that. This one seemed to be very slow to react to any movements Tyro made, something he was planning on taking full advantage of.

    Running around a corner, slightly rethinking of choice of shoe on this slippery floor, Tryo smiled to himself as he spotted a set of escalators up ahead. Gaining speed, he headed towards one, conscious of the robot clunking around the corner behind him.

    A plastic plant burst in to flames as Tryo reached the foot of the escalator, springing on to it, missing the first two steps and landing on the third. He looked back, to thee his pursuer slowly adjusting its aim to compensate for the new angle, when he noticed that rather than getting further away, he was getting closer to the ground floor.
    “A fifty-fifty chance.” He muttered. “So much for optimism.”

    Seeing no other option, he begun to run up the moving staircase, which seemed to be doing its best to take him back down.
    “Never did like machines.” He snapped, bounding two steps at a time, but still not making very much progress.

    By now, the robot was on an escalator itself, and seemed to be trying to prove to Tyro it wasn’t as stupid as he had thought, by stepping on the other one. As the escalator carried the machine upwards, groaning slightly with the weight, it fired again, narrowly missing Tyro as he lunged upwards another two steps.

    The upper floor was becoming visible now, and from Tyro could see, it seemed to be focused on toys. A few feet away from the escalator stood a small cart, abandoned, but still laden with various cheap plastic toys. Looking up he saw a large model of an old aircraft, suspended from the ceiling by clear wire, he presumed. At last, a plan was coming to him.

    Avoiding another slow laser blast, he finally dived off of the escalator, which he had come to resent as a massive hindrance, and headed straight for the toy stall. He scanned it quickly, remote control cars, mechanical cats, small wooden puppets.

    “Perfect!” He beamed, grabbing a frisbee from one of the shelves, poking his head out of the stall he was now using for cover. The metal head of the Cyclops like robot was now coming in to view as It ascended. Not having time to think properly, he grabbed a kite from a display, unravelling the string frantically and tying it through one of the many holes that surrounded the diameter of the plastic disk. He ripped the kite from the string and discarded it, tearing off another piece of the string with his teeth. This was tied around a traditional U-shaped magnet and in turn attached to another of the hole in the frisbee.

    Tyro stopped for a second, and he decided this plan really was insane, but it was the only one he had and he’d already wasted time on it, so decided to follow it through.
    “Worst case,” he said to himself, “I die. Again. Wasn’t so bad last time.”

    He grabbed the demonstration remote control car he had spotted earlier, and tied the remaining end of the kite string to it.

    “Now or never.” He coached himself, taking a deep breath as he held his arm back, focused on the ceiling. “Just hope these arms are big enough.”

    With a mighty cry he flung the Frisbee powerfully in to the air, watching as it span, quickly looking back to the machine that was once again preparing to take aim. He heard a clunk as his makeshift weapon hit the point in the ceiling where one was the wires was attached by a metal hook. He breathed a sigh of relieve as the magnet took hold, giving it a gentle pull to test the strength. He picked up the remote control unit, and looked at the ridiculous contraption he had made – the remote control car, set on the floor attached to the frisbee which was now stuck to the ceiling hook via the magnet. Perhaps, he thought this was just about crazy enough to work.

    Holding the control in both hands, he flicked the control switch marked “FORWARD” on harshly. Nothing happened.

    Panicking, he rapidly flicked the control back and forth, before realising he hadn’t switched it on. Turning the handset over, he switched the power on, and once again hit the forward control.
    The small blue car screeched forward, with no resistance at first, but slowing suddenly when the slack on the string ran out. Smoke started to stream from the small tires as Tryo continued, very conscious of the laser blast scorching the floor beside him. Looking up, he could see the ceiling hook trying to move, a crack appearing around it. Poking his head around the cart, Tyro knew he was almost out of time. The robot would be off the escalator any moment. With one final burst of determination, he pushed the level like switch as hard as he could, the motor of the little car screaming desperately.

    Then it happened. The car shot forward, the crack caused by the forward movement now large enough to let the hook fall free, the nose of the large model aircraft plummeting downwards. This stress, in turn, pulled the second support hook free from the ceiling, followed by the third.

    All at once the might plane fell from its place suspended in the sky, cashing straight down on to the escalator, and the robot below. There was a terrible sound of metal hitting metal as the staircase gave way, collapsing in a twisted heap, taking its metal passenger with it.

    Placing the remote control down, Tyro cautiously left his cover, peering over the edge where the escalator had once joined with this floor. The scene looked like some kind of bizarre indoor plane crash, the remains of a metal arm poking from under a broken wing.

    Casually, Tyro rode the escalator back downstairs, pleased he could just enjoy the ride this time. His legs were brand new, after all. He’d been hoping for a chance to break them in before having to do anything too strenuous.


    Tryo walked back towards the row of photo booths, dragging the battered and inactive robot behind him with one hand, and carrying his shopping basket in the other. He had felt very cold leaving Leanne there, but knew her friends and family would take care of her now, say their goodbyes. He had already done enough. He couldn’t even leave any money for the clothes. Part of him said it was his reward for stopping the killer robot, but he had to remind himself that it was his fault it was there in the first place.

    He slid the curtain open, and entered his TARDIS, propping the robot body up in the corner.
    “I’ll work on you later.” He addressed it. He had always known he couldn’t leave it here. In the wrong hands, the technology could change history completely. It was also give him a chance to try and work out where it had come from, although he had a good idea.

    “Straight in to the vortex, I think.” He said to both himself and the TARDIS, flicking a few switches. “Will give me some time to work out what to do next.”

    As the TARDIS started to dematerialise, a klaxon started to sound, a red warning message appearing on the monitor. Tyro quickly dashed round to read the output.
    “Will you stop that noise!” He shouted. “It’s a problem, I know. But with you doing that and that baby crying, I can’t hear myself think.”
    He paused for a moment.
    “Hold on.” It struck him. “A baby crying?”

    With that the internal door of the TARDIS, leading to the corridor and other rooms, opened, revealing a very distressed looking dark haired young lady. She held a small crying baby tightly to her chest.
    “What the hell is going on?” She screamed, as the TARDIS threw itself and its three passengers, in to the Time Vortex.
  5. Nemesis

    Former Administrator

    Chapter 4...

    “Where are we!” The unexpected passenger repeated, snapping at Tyro.
    “You’re in my time machine.” He responded, trying to get his head around the situation. “We’re travelling through time hence the wrooooaoh urrrgh!!” He waved his hands around, trying to imitate the TARDIS.
    “Right, sure.” She shouted back angrily. “Just who are you!” The girl demanded, protectively hugging her baby tightly to her chest.
    “Tyroankandra.” Tyro replied, still quite shocked at the sight standing in the doorway. “But you can call me Tyro. And you are?”
    “Alex.” She replied, dumbfounded. “Bit of an odd name isn’t it? Tyro?”
    “You can talk!” He huffed back, despondent. “Alex is a boy’s name, isn’t it?”
    “You don’t spend a lot of time around people, do you?” Alex replied bluntly.
    “Well,” Tryo cocked his head to one side. “Now you mention it, I’ve really only met one human properly.” He paused sadly. “We went shopping. And she died two hours later.”
    “Great! Even better. I’m with a time travelling murderer.”
    “I didn’t kill her!” Tyro shouted back quickly. He pointed to the carcass of the robot slumped in the corner. “He did!”
    “Oh, that’s fine. Your robot friend did it. No problem.” She rolled her eyes, one hand stroking her baby’s’ back.
    “Not my friend.” He replied, losing interest and turning back to the TARDIS console. “He was trying to kill me.”
    “Look, will you stop messing around?” Alex continued, stepping through in to the console room. “Where are we? And who are you?”
    “I told you. It’s a time machine.” He stroked the console fondly. “My time machine I suppose, technically. And I’m Tyro. I’m a Time Lord. An alien.” He stepped towards the main TARDIS doors. “I really shouldn’t do this, but I doubt there is any other way to prove it to you.”

    With that, Tyro flung the doors open, revealing the twisting vortex of time they were travelling within. Alex stood dumbfounded by the console, watching all of time and space flew past the doors. After what seemed like forever, Tyro slammed the doors closed.

    “This really isn’t a photo booth, is it?”
    “No.” He smiled.
    “And you can travel in time?”
    “So where are we going?”
    “What?” He snapped his head around to look her straight in the eyes.
    “We’re in a Time machine. Where are we going?”
    “Nowhere!” He exclaimed. “I’m taking you home.”
    “You can’t do that! Tease me with a time machine, then drop me back off to finish the shopping.”
    “I can.” He nodded. “And I have to. I told you what happened back there.” He gestured to the inactive robot. “Someone is after me. It’s not safe.”
    “Fine.” She sulked. “But can you at least hold Lucy for a bit? I left her pushchair outside, didn’t occur to me I’d picked the extra-large booth. Been carrying her for hours.”

    Alex stepped closer towards Tyro, ignoring the rather terrified look on his face and handed the small child to him.
    “Support her head.” She advised, stretching her arms.
    “Er, hello?” Tyro said quietly, looking at the small life in his arms, tufts of light hair sprouting from her head. He got nothing but a gargle in response.
    “Choocey choocey coo?” He ignored the grin that was emerging on the young mothers face.

    All of a sudden, the console room was filled with a glorious noise, the sound of a baby laughing.

    “She’s never done that before!” Alex beamed, leaning over her child, who seemed to be reaching out to Tyros’ waistcoat. “I think she finds your sense of fashion as funny as I do.”
    “Or it’s the badge.” Tyro suggested, trying to gesture towards the yellow pin on his chest, emblazoned with a black smiley face.
    “Yeah, you keep thinking that” Alex teased, taking Lucy back in to her arms. “I suppose if you’re not going to show me the future or whatever, the least you can do is get me back before the shops close.”
    “Yeah, maybe.” Tyro bit his lip. “Might want to try a different shopping centre though. “ He started working at the controls once more. “I may have had a slight accident with a toy car, a Frisbee and my metal friend over there.”
    “I thought he wasn’t your friend?”
    “You know what I mean.”

    All of a sudden they were both cut off by the TARDIS as the klaxon started up again.
    “I told you, it’s fine!” He snapped at the Time Rotor, before pausing and addressing Alex. “Hold on, it’s not you its whining about.” He looked to the monitor read out. “Something’s locked on to us.”
    “And that isn’t good?”
    “Wouldn’t have thought so.” He replied. “Going to have to change the co-ordinates, try and lose them. Hold on!”

    They both grabbed hold of the console, Tyro with one hand, operating levers with the other.
    “It’s no good!” He shouted, over the ever increasing volume of the alarm. “They’re still following us, matching our every move.”
    “But why!” Alex cried back, trying to keep Lucy from crying, despite the noise.
    “Well, someone’s probably trying to catch the TARDIS, either to capture us, or destroy us. Knowing who’s after me, I’d probably go with the destroying option. Blown to bits across space and time.”

    Alex looked straight at him, terrified, before kissing Lucy gently on the forehead and turning away from him.
    “Oh.” He said, extending the word whilst stroking his stubble chin. “That’s why people don’t like pessimists.”


    Axelle looked out to his class of five students, although he wasn’t sure if he could count Lorendria. Even with the standard Gallifreyan requirement for much less sleep than most species, he could tell she had not rested for days, perhaps even weeks. He too had been much the same since Tyronkandra and Suress had both vanished, seemingly within hours of each other.

    The first thing he had done, of course, was speak to the High Council, but they were not concerned. As no capsules had been registered as missing, they put both down to some kind of academy prank. Perhaps they had gone out in to the wasteland, they had suggested, or even gotten themselves killed in a game such as Eighth Man Bound. Axelle had to admit it was a possibility, he had seen himself Time Lords manage to completely wipe themselves out playing the ‘game’. Yet whilst he had suspected Suress had taken part, he very much doubted Tyroankandra would have. The boy was like himself, living very much in the past, rather than the future.

    Either way, the old Time Lord knew something was not right.

    “Lorendria!” he called to the Time lady, as the class filled out for another day. “May I speak to you for a moment?”
    “Yes Mentor?” She replied politely, unable to hide the anguish in her eyes.
    “What is troubling you, young one?”
    “Nothing Mentor. Just Tyro and Suress.” She lied.
    “You forget I have known you your whole life, child.” Axelle replied kindly. “As I have your two friends. I am too concerned for their safety.” He paused. “But you know more, don’t you?”
    “What makes you say that?”
    “As I said, I know you.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “What have you seen?”
    Lorendria stepped back, shocked he had asked such a question.
    “You know I cannot answer that, Mentor. I am bound by the Oath of Patrex.”
    “I know, I know.” He smiled. “But it is well accepted in our society that gifted individuals such as yourself will sometimes be unable to hold such a burden on their own.”
    “I can cope.” Lorendria snapped, knowing she was lying to herself as well as her mentor. She turned her head away from him. “I already have a confidant.” She admitted, not that he had been any help. As soon as she had left the Archivists’ chamber, Lorendria knew she should have spoken to Axelle. He would have given her advice, rather than just listened. He would have helped.

    “Ah.” Axelle finally replied. “In that case, there is nothing I can do for you. Whereas one confidant is just about accepted, I know you cannot risk telling anyone else.” He cursed silently in his head. He knew why the rules and etiquettes were in place, but sometimes swore they did more to hinder their society than help it.
    “However this ends,” he said as Lorendria left the room, “I do hope it is for the best, for all of us.”
    “We both know that can’t be the case, Mentor.” She replied sadly.


    “Still following us!” Tyro shouted, as the TARDIS buffeted her passengers from side to side.
    “Can you at least make the journey a bit smoother?” Alex shouted over the noise of the engines. “This is the last cardigan I have that doesn’t have baby sick on it, and I’d rather like to keep it that way.”
    “She’s doing her best!” Tyro defended his ship, a hand on her console. “But we have just flown from the ancient past of Metebellis 3, all the way to fifty-first century Earth, to the destruction of Klom and back to Earth in the time of the Vikings, without so much as a pit stop.” He stopped for a breath. “I think you need to cut her some slack.”
    “Right, sorry.” Alex said sarcastically. “Sorry I upset your girlfriend.”

    Tyro stopped what he was doing, and looked straight at her.
    “She’s not my girlfriend. Shes my ship.” He paused and gave a wink. “Besides, early days yet!”
    The young mother shook her head in disbelief.

    Tyro swept around to the opposite side of the console, the chord of his headphones swinging as he went.
    “Still locked on!” he growled. “How are they even doing this? As soon as we change course, so do they. Any kind of co-ordinate lock would take a few seconds to reconfigure at least.” He frowned. “They literally know where we are going as soon as we do.”
    “Like they’re reading your mind?” Alex suggested.
    “Don’t be so stupid!” The Time Lord snapped. “How could anyone…” He trailed off, his brown eyes lighting up instantly.
    “I’ve got it!” He exclaimed.
    “Do enlighten us.” Alex said drolly, turning young Lucy to face him.
    “They’re reading my mind!”


    Suress walked around the black console of his TARDIS, wearing a lock dark cloak he had found discarded in one of the nearby rooms. It wasn’t too far a departure from his Dromenian robes, but the instant he had regenerated the Time Lord had felt uncomfortable wearing them, not to mention the large gash where the Archivist had attacked him.

    He approached the back wall of the console room, where one of the roundels had been removed, and a large device plugged in to the circuit behind it.
    “You can run, Tyro.” Suress sneered. “But you won’t be able to hide from me. Not with this.” He kneeled over the piece of equipment. He had read about them, but never seen them in action. The Telekinetic Interception Circuit was said to be used by the Celestial Intervention Agency, a group that was only ever rumoured to exist. As soon as he had seen the TIC interface controls on his new console, Suress knew his first plan of action.

    Luckily for him, he still retained enough in-depth memories of Tyro in order to feed the pattern from his own mind in to the TIC. Things had been a bit shaky to start with, but a little bit of jiggery pokery later, and the circuits had pinpointed Tyro and his TARDIS exactly.

    The device had the ability to pinpoint brain patterns throughout the Time Vortex, and hone in on them. Once a link was established, it configured itself to the specific capsule that the target was traveling in, using the pilots’ thoughts as a link to the navigational systems.

    Now, it was just a case of catching up. Every time the TIC made a positive lock on, Tyro would change his destination. Of course, the TIC followed immediately, but Suress knew he would have get Tyro unless he caught up. But, he also knew that Tyro was much more likely to stop running than Suress was to stop chasing him.
    The one thing Suress hadn’t planned for, was what was going to happen when he did catch up with the renegade. He knew that the Archivist was not concerned either way if Tyro lived or died, but every now and again a memory would jump forward that made Suress doubt if he could end a life. He had spent hours trying to work out how to kill Tyro only once, and make sure he didn’t regenerate. Unfortunately, he hadn’t thought of ‘borrowing’ a Chancellery guard staser before he left, and knew he could not return to Gallifrey, or to the Archivist, until the job was done. He would have to find a way though, he told himself. Even if he could kill Tyro the first time, he wasn’t sure if was going to be able to do it on another eleven occasions.

    The concept was particularly daunting as he knew that until the Archivist was satisfied with his work, this life was the only one he had.

    “Got to do something to shake them off!” Tyro shouted with frustration. “But can’t stop moving. If I stop thinking, I can’t fly her!” He slammed a fist on the console, before rubbing it tenderly. “The perfect trap.”
    “Can’t I fly it?” Alex saw the look on Tyros’ face and quickly corrected herself. “Her. Can’t I fly her? They can’t read my mind, can they?”
    “They can.” He frowned. “If I’m right, I’m being used as a link to the TARDIS navigation controls. If you take over, the link will swap to you. As long as you are aware of where we are going, they can came after..oh.” his eyes lit up once again.
    “What?” Alex asked shrugging as she shifted Lucy in her arms.
    “I’ve been very very stupid.” He smiled, stepping closer. “What we need, the only way out of this,” he continued, rambling, “we need someone with no conscious awareness, no knowledge what so ever.” His smile grew in to a wide grin. “And we’ve got the perfect little person right here.”
    “Oi!” She snapped. “I’m not stupid you know. And I’m not that little either.”
    “Not you.” Tyro continued, tickling Lucy under her chin as she reached out for his smiley face badge.


    “You know what I have seen.” Lorendra sobbed, sat in the Archivists’ chamber. “I need to know what I can do, how I can stop it.”
    “You know I cannot help you child.” He replied coldly. “The gift of foresight is yours, and therefore that burden is also your own. I was only ever here to listen.”
    “But I know they are both alive!” She insisted. “If we can find them now, then what I saw might not happen.”
    “Foolish girl.” The Archivist scolded. “You know that is not our way. You saw what you saw because that is what must happen.”
    “But I only saw glimpses. Maybe there’s more I’ve not seen.”
    “Then that is the will of Time.” He replied quietly. “We Time Lords do not question Time, you know that.” He signalled for her to stand. “You have seen what you have for a reason. That cannot be changed, and neither can future events. You should be thankful for your gift, rather than greedy for more.” He walked her to the door. “We all know what happens when we try and take advantage of our privileges for personal gain.” He ushered her out of the door. “Good night young one.”

    “Good night.” She replied, keeping back the tears she could feel welling up. Composing herself, she head away from the Archivists’ quarters and back towards her own.

    Back inside, the Archivists’ mind was hatching yet another plot. Lorendria had been a great asset in unknowingly letting him manipulate Suress, but he knew there was still more she could do for him. A thin smile spread across his face as he purposefully made for the door.

    Further down the corridor, Axelle slowly poked his head around the corner, watching the Archivist leave, slowing moving out of sight.
    “Interesting.” He muttered quietly to himself.

    “Will it hurt her?” Alex said, concerned as tyro lifted Lucy in a silver high chair.
    “No.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “Not at all.”
    “you’re sure?”
    “Positive. And that’s coming from Mr. Negative over here.” He put an arm around her. “I promise, she’ll be fine. Lucky I found this back there.” He put a hand on the back of the high chair, Lucy firmly strapped in. “Really will have to have a sort out.”
    “So what happens now?” Alex asked, watching the TARDIS monitor as it switched to yet another destination Tyro had programmed in.
    “We need to connect her to the TARDIS.” He explained. “With me, the telepathic link is enough, but Lucy’s going to need some help.”
    “You’re not plugging her in to that thing!” Alex shouted. “You didn’t say anything about that!”
    “I don’t need to.” He replied calmly, taking the large headphones from around his neck. “I told her these would come in handy. Didn’t think it would be this soon though.”

    Tyro circled the console, running his eye over every panel.
    “You can travel through the deepest realms of time and space,” he shook his head at the Time Rotor. “Yet I can’t find a headphone socket when I need one?”
    “Is this it?” Alex piped up, pointing straight at a small 3 millimetre hole in the console.
    “Perfect!” Tyro exclaimed, giving her an unexpected hug. Lucy sat in her highchair, giggling.

    Plugging the headphones in to the console, Tyro swept back to Lucy, placing them over her head gently, adjusting the band so it was at the smallest it could go. Even so, they were perched rather precariously on her head, not helped by her trying to look up, to find out what they were. Alex perched herself on the floor next to the highchair, keeping her child distracted.

    “Now I just have to filter out my telepathic pattern.” Tyro muttered, placing himself over a bank of sliding switches. He fiddled with two, pushing one up and the other down. As he did, a slight humming started in his head.
    “Can you hear that?” Alex questioned.
    “Yeah, it’s me.” He confirmed. “It’s a psychic field, blocking our telekinetic activity feeding trough to the console.”
    “Ow!” She exclaimed suddenly. “Does it have to be so loud?”
    “Afraid so.” He shrugged. “Otherwise this whole thing is a bit pointless really.”
    “I don’t even know what the point of it is anyway. You never did tell me why someone’s after you.”
    “Long story.” He paused. “I probably won’t tell you about it later.”

    Tyro swung back to the navigational panel, giving Lucy a quick smile, before tapping in a new set of co-ordinates.
    “Now, with any luck, this should lose them.” He turned to the baby. “Now Lucy, I need you to concentrate, ok? For all intents and purposes, you’re now flying a highly advanced time machine.”
    She giggled at him, pointing once again towards his smiley badge.
    “Fine.” He smiled. “Whatever keeps you happy. Setting co-ordinates…now!”

    The Time Rotor groaned, the pitch of the engines changing as the TARDIS changed course. Tyro was coping with the humming of the psychic field in his head, but knew Alex couldn’t stand it much longer. He had to be quick.

    The console room shuddered as they were hurtled towards their new destination, Lucy giggling the whole time. Tyro watched in amazement as the Time Rotor seemed to respond to her, moving with her laughter.

    “Think we’ve got them!” He finally exclaimed, gleefully. “No sign of anything locked on! Good girl!” He tickled Lucy gently as the warning klaxon stopped. “And you!” He stroked the Time Rotor, smiling. “Don’t worry, didn’t forget you.”
    “Is that it then?” Alex asked. “Can you stop that ringing?”
    “Not yet.” Tyro responded, hunched over a bank of buttons. “Just need to…perfect!” He returned to the sliding controls and moved them back, lowering the psychic field.
    “Now I just need to apply her brain pattern to..”
    “What!” Alex interrupted. “You didn’t say anything about that!”
    “Well,” Tyro shrugged sheepishly. “I’ve taken a copy of her brainwaves. I can program it in to the TARDIS systems and use it as a kind of shield, keeping them out permanently. Otherwise, well, Lucy would have to stay there forever. And never age, which could be a problem. I’d have to keep finding new babies.” He cocked his head to one side. “That’s not the sort of reputation I want.”
    “Fine then.” Alex sniffed.
    “Thank you.” He beamed at her. “I mean it. This will keep me safe, for a while anyway.”
    I hope so.” She gave him a slight smile.

    “Done!” He said, after a minute of two, and took the large headphones from Lucy. “Your little thoughts,” he prodded her forehead gently “are now running through my ship!” He beamed. “A little bit of baby Lucy, preserved forever.” She giggled at him again.
    “Oh fine.” He groaned, running over to the shopping basket he had discarded earlier and rummaging through its contents. A moment later he returned to her, a small badge in hand. “Careful of the pin.” He warned, attaching the badge, identical to his own, to her little pink dress. “Perfect!”

    “No!” Suress’ scream echoed throughout his console room, as his scanners lost all trace of Tyros’ TARDIS. “What’s that fool done? He is merely prolonging the chase.” He snarled. The Tyro he had known would have been an easy prey, but this was something different. The visual feed he had received from the Assassin Robot had shown a much more competent Time Lord, his ingenuity far surpassing his previous incarnation.

    But Suress too, was a new man. His determination would have to match Tyros’ ability to escape; he would have to keep upping his game until his task was complete.

    With no warning the TIC gave a loud beep, confirming it was unable to lock on to its target. It beeped again however, a message being relayed to the TARDIS monitor.



    “I guess this is goodbye then.” Alex smiled, Lucy back in her arms.
    “If that’s what you humans call it.” He replied. “I’ve taken you home by the way. Didn’t think the shopping centre would be too good an idea.” He gestured to Lucy. “Think this one needs some rest too, long day.”
    “Thanks.” She replied. “I might get a good night’s sleep for once.”
    “Hope so.” He paused. “I’m sorry I can’t take you with me, that I can’t show you all the things that you want to see, but this isn’t that kind of trip.”
    “I know.” The dark haired girl replied. “Having seen today, I think that’s probably for the best.” She made for the door, Lucy grinning over her shoulder.
    “Oh!” Tyro stopped her in her tracks. “One more thing.” He scurried to the TARDIS console and reached underneath it, producing a Polaroid camera. “Will save you a trip!”
    “How old is that thing!” Alex laughed.
    “Old.” He shrugged. “Found it with the high chair. Not sure who this ship belonged to, but their stuff is certainly coming in handy.”

    He stood Alex against the wall and took her photograph, then Lucys’.
    “And you!” Alex laughed, the three of them standing against the white wall of the TARDIS, Tyro taking the picture with his arm out stretched.
    “Here you go.” He handed her the three photos, keeping one of the three of them for himself. “Happy holidays! Where ever you end up!”
    “Thanks.” She said, hugging him with one arm, the other holding Lucy. “It might not be time and space, but it will do for us.”

    She headed towards the doors again, which swung open for her.
    “Goodbye Tyro.”
    “Bye Alex.” He beamed. “Bye Lucy.” He waved. “And thank you.”

    The doors closed behind them, and Tyro made his way back to the console, firing the Time Rotor back in to life. As the engines began their usual groan, Tyro was sure he could hear Lucys’ laugh echoing throughout the console room as he looked at the picture of the three of them, her little face smiling back at him.
  6. First of all, I'd just like to say...


    And aside from that, this story is absolutely brilliant! I love how well you've described everything, and especially how you did the whole robot-battle.

    I'm just curious on who exactly Tyro is. Anyway, this is a great story, and I'll definitely be stalking this one!
  7. Nemesis

    Former Administrator

    Chapter 5

    Tyro stood in the TARDIS work shop, having spent hours searching for it. The more he saw of this impossible ship, the more he wanted to know about its previous owner. He had discovered various libraries, a sauna and even a nature park. Right now, however, he was leant over the broken body of his robot attacker, various pieces of equipment scattered around the large work bench that he was using as a makeshift operating table. Various sets of cables ran from the machines open chest to an analyser, various diagnostic results scrolling across the screen.

    “Think you’re about ready.” Tyro muttered, swinging the loose headphone cable over his shoulder and out of his way. Stepping back, he tapped at a nearby keyboard, inputting the start-up command. Instantly, the single eye lit up with a red glow, the connected screen outputting text sent from the robots processors.
    “SYSTEMS INITILISING” This remained on the screen for a few moments, and Tyro could leant in close to hear the various processors and systems whir in to live.

    The robot body tried to move, but to no avail, it’s shoulders, arms, legs and torso securely held to the table with metal clamps. It only had the freedom to move its head from side to side.
    “TARGET LOCATED.” The screen outputted, as the robot looked straight at Tyro, who stood his ground, despite the twitching arm only a foot away from him.
    “I’d like to see you try.” Tyro smirked.
    “Looking for these?” Tyro laughed, waving the two laser cannons in front of the mechanical eye. “Do you really think I’d be that stupid?” He paused. “Glad you can’t answer that, actually.” He placed the two severed weapons back down, and returned to the keyboard. “Now I have you online,” he looked over his shoulder to the badly damaged metal body, miraculously still mainly intact, “which wasn’t easy, I’ll have you know, maybe you can help me. Access your databank. I need to know your mission. Who sent you?”

    There was a long pause, the robots eye flashing rapidly. Finally, a message appeared on the screen.
    “No, no, no!” Tyro swore, prodding at keys rapidly, trying to stop the process.
    “DELETION COMPLETE.” The screen confirmed.

    Tyro lashed out suddenly, sending a variety of robot parts crashing to the floor. He had lost track of how long he had spent trying to get the machine back in to an operable state, just so he could find out what the Archivist was up to. He knew that the Time Lord would not have sent this machine after him of his own accord, it would be too easy to trace, which meant that someone else was involved, and Tyro was determined to find out who.

    “AWAITING INSTRUCTIONS.” The readout flashed to him.
    “Keep on waiting.” Tyro huffed. “I’ve got no use for you.” He stopped for a moment and thought about it. “Or have I?”

    Lorendria shot upright from her slumber, sweat pouring from her forehead. After all the months she had spent trying to see it again, the vision had suddenly come to her, much more vivid this time, and showing her so much more.

    This time, she had been there. This in itself scared her, she had never seen a vision of her own future before, but it was the circumstances that were even more terrifying. It had been bad enough knowing what was destined to happen to Tyro and Suress, but she had now learnt that she too was part of this story.

    Nearby in the Citadel, the Archivist had also been suddenly bought back to consciousness. However, unlike the young Time Lady, he was calm, happy even. An evil smile adorned his face, knowing he had been successful.

    The gift of seeing in to the future was a rare one, even on Gallifrey, and one that had always eluded the Archivist. He was however, highly skilled in the art of manipulation, something that seemed essential to get anywhere in Gallireyan society. Usually, however, this was limited to political scheming and backstabbing.

    He hadn’t expected it to be easy to psychically interfere with the dreams of another, but Lorendria had proven particularly susceptible. Perhaps, he theorised, it was due to her nature as a member of the Patrex Chapter. He spent little time pondering this matter though, much more interested in what the outcome of his meddling would be. He knew that for his eventual aim to succeed, what Lorendria had seen had to come to pass. He had always had faith in Time, but felt that pushing the Time Lady a little in the right direction couldn’t hurt. The more she saw and knew, the more she would try and stop it, and eventually cause it to happen in the first place.

    Little did the Archivist know, that his meddling had been more successful than he had hoped, for a few corridors away, Axelle also awoke, terrible scenes flashing through his mind.


    “Steady!” Tryo exclaimed, supporting the robot as it almost tumbled over on to him. The pair had left the workshop now, and were heading back to the console room. After doing a bit of poking around in file systems, Tyro had discovered that all trace of any previous tasks, such as his execution, had been completely wiped from the robots memory. Therefore, the Time Lord concluded, it was not dangerous in the least; particularly now it was, literally, unarmed. He had of course also taken particular care to remove any systems and protocols that would allow any form of external control. The last thing Tyro needed was for the machine to turn on him again with no warning.
    “Don’t think I’ve forgiven you for Leanne though.” He had said darkly before releasing the magnetic clamps.

    “Going to need a name for you though.” He said thoughtfully, as the doors opened to the console room. “I can’t just keep calling you ‘robot’.” The machine turned its head to him, looking down from its above average height. Now the diagnostic equipment had been removed, it could no longer communicate effectively.
    “I think I’ll call you Archie.” Tyro decided, dusting off a bit of dirt he had spotted on his silver waistcoat. “What do you think? Suits you.”
    Archie simply turned his head away, and followed Tyro towards the console.
    “Ooh. Beeping.” The Time Lord stated, positioning himself in front of the monitor. “Let’s hope it’s good beeping this time, eh?”

    He worked at the keyboard for a minute or two, before discovering what the TARDIS was trying to tell him.
    “Hazzah!” He exclaimed suddenly, a look of excitement spreading over his face. “It’s the Doctor, Archie! I think we’ve found the Doctor!”

    Archie did not respond, but instead just teetered on the spot as the TARDIS launched itself towards its new target.

    “I must congratulate you Archivist.” Axelle said as he entered the Archive Chamber. “I had no idea your cognitive influence was that powerful.”
    The Archivist turned his head from the monitor at which he was working, hiding his slight panic with a blank expression.
    “Although perhaps it’s a little too powerful.” Axelle continued. I am assuming I was not the intended recipient of that particular vision.”
    “I have no idea what you are talking about Axelle.” The Archivist sneered. “But then again, I always did know you were a little bit delusional.”
    “Let’s not make this personal.” Axelle gave a fake smile. “And let’s not play games. Two of my students have vanished, one shortly after having accessed files from within this very room, and the other after confronting you on a guard patrol. And now I, and many other elders, I suspect, have seen a telepathically implanted vision intended for a third, who confided only in you. I would say my suspicion is a little more than delusion, wouldn’t you?”

    “Oh, very clever.” The Archivist replied, getting to his feet. “And why, pray tell, do you propose I would go to all the trouble of this?”
    “Because you’ve been changing the files.” Axelle said bluntly. “I admit, I do not review them as often as I perhaps should, but over the last few days I have made a point of it, specifically the ones young Tyroanakdro accessed before his disappearance. We both know you are the only person who can change them, besides myself.”

    “That’s not true.” The Archivist sneered. “Your precious Tyroankandro is the one changing the record of our past. That’s why he ran.”
    “You are lying.” Axelle’s stare burnt straight at the older Time Lord.
    “Oh of course I am.” The Archivist laughed. “But that is what that fool Suress believes, which is why he is after Tyroankandro, chasing him through time.” He paused, a sickly smile spreading across his lips. “In order to kill him.”

    Axelle felt his body start to shake. Perhaps the vision he had seen was the real future after all, the Archivist had just manipulated the image to make it clearer. When he had awoken he had assumed, and hoped, that it was false future, designed to mentally cripple Lorendria even more.

    “And where does Lorendria fall in to all this?” Axelle asked. “Why make her suffer?”
    “Just keeping the path of history intact.” The Archivist replied. “Wouldn’t want anything to not-happen, would we?”
    “Seems a little ironic, seeing as you’re admitting to trying to rewrite our entire history.”
    “Oh, I’m not trying, Axelle.” He boasted, gesturing to the computer screen he was working on. “I’ve succeeded. The perfect history of the universe now resides in our databanks.”
    “Perfect?” Axelle laughed.
    “Yes.” The Archivist nodded. “Not historically accurate, but perfect. We are such an old race, Axelle.” He lowered his voice. “The two of us are examples of that. We have so much power, but we keep it to ourselves, we don’t interfere. You’ve read my amendments; we could have saved civilisations, stopped planets from burning.”
    “But we didn’t!” Axelle exclaimed. “Editing a datafile won’t change that.”
    “You are correct of course, but history is written by the winners, Axelle. You know that. Why do you think our race is feared and turned away by the rest of the universe? It is because we do not use our gifts to help. With this version of history passed along the generations, the legacy of the Time Lords will be one of kindness and great power.”
    “That’s it?” Axelle laughed. “All this, Tyroankandro, Suress, Lorendria, all so you can make the rest of the universe see us in a better light?”
    “Of course not.” The Archivist smiled. “Once the legacy of the Time Lords is changed throughout the universe, imagine how easy it will be to forge alliances with those races who now see us as saviours. Sontarans, Daleks, Zygons, they will all join with us, or rather with the Time Lord ambassador.”
    “Yourself, of course.” Axelle continued for him. “With the rest of Gallifrey, myself excluded, none the wiser.”
    “Exactly. Now you see why I needed your little history boys out of the way. You’ve seen the future too, haven’t you? Perfect solution to my problem, I think you’ll find. I hardly have to get my hands dirty.” He paused, a sinister look in his eye. “Apart from with you.”
    “That is your new future then, is it?” Axelle ignored the threat. “The Archivist travelling the universe with his army of grateful alien species?”
    “For a while.” The Archivist hissed. “Until I take over completely. They won’t even see it happening. We Time Lords are gifted at political manipulation, after all.” He looked straight at Axelle. “But you wouldn’t know of that, would you, buried in your databanks. But no, soon enough, I will be the supreme ruler, not just of an army, but of entire worlds. Entire races of unstoppable killing machines, military minds, all at my fingertips.”

    There was a silence for what seemed like hours, but Axelle knew it was no more than a few seconds.

    “You’re insane.” He said at last. “This is what our high and mighty attitude does to us. It turns us in to power hungry monsters.”
    “You judge too harshly, Axelle.” The Archivist replied. “I will not be alone. I will seek out like minded Time Lords, once it is too late for the council to stop me, of course, and recruit them in to my regime. That will be the basis of my society, the entire universe ruled by Time Lords.” He paused. “I would start by asking you to join me, to stand with me at my side, but I think we both know that would never happen.”
    “You are right about something, at last.” Axelle nodded.
    “Then,” The other Time Lord said sadly, “I am going to have to kill you too.” He paused, stepping towards Axelle. “But at least with you I can be sure you won’t regenerate.”


    A sudden wind whipped up from nowhere, blowing dust and leaves around as the scrapyard was filled with sounds of space and time splitting in to two, as if the universe was groaning. The wind got stronger, and very soon a white flashing light appeared from nowhere, fading in to existence. Soon after, a large blue box started to materialise, light emanating from the small windows on each side.

    Moments later, a fully formed, well-worn Police Box was sat in a long forgotten corner of 76 Totters Lane.

    The door creaked open slowly, as it’s Time Lord pilot stepped out, a silver tube like device in his hand. He waved it around for a moment, before holding it to his ear carefully with one hand, whilst batting his neckwear away from his face with the other.

    “Nothing!” Tyro exclaimed, shaking the Sonic Screwdriver. “Well, nothing recent anyway. If the Doctor was here, it was a long time ago.” He took one last look at the screwdriver, before throwing it back through the TARDIS door. He stepped out further, looking at the new form of his time machine, and smiled. He had heard so many stories about a box like this, the fear and hope it gave to many civilisations. As a very young boy, he had dreamt of travelling in a TARDIS that looked like this, the Doctor’s TARDIS, and now he was doing it, if only for a short time before he rushed off elsewhere.

    Turning his attention away from his ship, he looked around the scrapyard.
    “Late twentieth century I think.” He muttered to himself. “Probably not much to keep me..ooh!” He cut himself off, noticing a pile of discarded computer components. He quickly rushed back inside the TARDIS, where Archie stood beside the console. Tyro straightened his neckerchief, sweeping the now empty shopping basket from the floor. Archie turned slowly on the spot to face him.
    “Arm out!” He ordered with a smile. The robot obeyed immediately, raising his right arm, which now ended in some twisted metal and disconnected wires. Tyro leant forward and hooked the basket handle over a hooked piece of broken metal.
    “Perfect!” He exclaimed. “Come on then Stumpy! let’s find you some new parts!”

    Axelle struggled, pushing with all his might as the Archivists hands gripped him tightly around the throat, his face showing a hint of delight as he started to squeeze.
    “This is getting to be quite a habit.” The Archivist muttered over Axelles gasping, thinking back to the previous two murders he had committed. Up until now he had managed to keep his hands relatively clean, something Time Lords were particularly good at. They were not known as a violent race, but a manipulative one, gently pushing other races in to doing their bidding.

    As he watched the life being squeezed from his fellow Time Lord, the Archivist had to wonder why his race had kept way from this method of dealing with their problems. He had always been proud of his original plan, full of cunning and manipulation, there was something satisfying about disposing of this obstacle with his own bare hands.

    Once the old man was out of the way, he thought, he would have to act quickly. The decision to kill Axelle had been a quick one, so he had no plan. The only thing that would sprung to mind was a plea of self-defence. With the council now aware that archives were being changed, and Tyroankandro missing, it would not be a giant leap to accuse his mentor of being part of the plot too. Yes, he thought to himself, that could work perfectly. Just as long as Suress caught Tyro before the council did. He had to be the one to recover that TARDIS.

    Axelle fought as hard as he could, but this body never had been strong. He was a sage, a teacher, a scribe, not a warrior. His strength had always lay with his mind, rather than his strength, something he was regretting now.

    Then it hit him. The power of any mind, let alone a Time Lord one, was not something to under-estimate. He stopped fighting, and closed his eyes, reaching out with his mind, to the one person he knew would be listening.

    Across the Citadel, Lorendria woke from her half sleep and burst from her room.


    Tyro cursed loudly in Gallifrean as he burnt his hand, once again, on the soldering iron.
    “This really is hurting me more than it is you.” He quipped, attaching one wire to another deep within Archie’s chest cavity.

    “Well, that shopping trip was a bit more successful than the last.” Tyro said to his new companion as he placed the soldering iron back on his work bench. “This time the killer robot was just carrying the basket.” He sighed, remembering Leanne. Was it really right, he thought to himself, for him to allow this machine to live, if you could call it that, after it had taken an innocent life?

    Very quickly, he decided it was. Archie hadn’t made the decision to tear that shopping centre to pieces, that had been the will of its master, presumably the Archivist. Infact, he reasoned to himself, Archie didn’t exist back then. Archie was the machine he was building now, the machine that had come in to existence when Tyro had wiped its previous ‘personality’ and data.

    Tyro stood back in the workshop and looked at his handy work. Archie now had an old PC monitor, CRT apparently, sitting in his chest, wires running from it, one up in to the machines head, another up to its right shoulder. It continued down the arm, where it was connected to a keyboard, haphazardly attached to the forearm.

    Various parts of Archie’s white armour was cracked, or missing completely, exposed joints and circuitry covered with wire mesh.
    Tyro leant forward, and pressed the enter key on the keyboard, before quickly standing back. The servos in Archie’s legs jolted suddenly, the single red eye lighting up slowly. Both arms lifted together, each still ending in a stump. Tyro had done his best to remove any potentially dangerous pieces of jagged metal from where the laser cannons used to be, as well as trimming back the remaining strands of wire. He left them just about accessible though, for whatever he may want to connect Archie to in the future.

    “Archie?” Tryo said inquisitively. “You there?” He waved a hand in front of the machines eye, prompting it to sit up from the long table.
    “Yes.” Archie replied, monosyllabically. Tyro grinned. He wasn’t sure that his modifications to the voice recognition software would have allowed an interface between it and Archie’s core processor, but it certainly seemed to be working.
    “Maybe it does pay to be optimistic sometimes.”
    “All evidence would suggest you are correct.” Archie replied, the same message appearing across his chest monitor, green text on a black background.
    “So then, Archie.” Tyro said, watching as his masterpiece lifted itself from the table. “Time for some tests. Who are you?”
    “This unit is designated Archie. Systems running at 78 per cent. Critical damage sustained to weapons systems. All archived data has been erased and is unavailable. This unit is programmed to take orders only from you. Please identify yourself.”

    “Wow.” Tyro rubbed his forehead. “Chatty, aren’t we. Don’t make me regret giving you a voice.”
    “For security reasons please identify yourself. This information will be stored to ensure this unit is not used for purposes other than intended.”
    “Alright, alright. My name is Tyroankandro.”
    “Unit is now registered to Tyroankandro.” Tyro waited impatiently as Archie said his name, at a painful syllable by syllable pace.”
    “You know what,” he smiled sadly, looking down at the yellow badge on his waistcoat. “You can call me ‘Sir’.”

    “Axelle!” Lorendria shouted as she burst in to the Archive Chamber, to see the Archivist gripping her mentor tightly by the throat, Axelle dropping to his knees.
    “Oh well done, old man.” The Archivist sneered. “Now you’ve gotten her even deeper in to this. I was going to use her, you know.” He looked straight at the young Time Lady in training. “Yes, your gift would have come in very handy.”

    “I would never have helped you, whatever you are up to!” She shouted, rushing towards the two old Time Lords.
    “You wouldn’t have had the choice.” The Archivist replied, releasing Axelle and throwing his limp body across the room. “In fact, you wouldn’t have even known you were doing it. You’d have just made things nice and easy for me, until, well, you know what.”
    “That isn’t going to happen.” Lorendria cried, rushing to Axelle’s side. She placed a hand on his chest. Still beating. She sighed a deep sigh of relief. “Tyro and Suress haven’t even regenerated yet. Those bodies in my vision, they weren’t them. Not yet.”
    “Oh, but you are wrong, my dear.” The Archivist said cruelly, reaching in to his robe. “You see, Suress, I saw him regenerate myself. After I stabbed him through a heart, of course.”

    Lorendria looked up at him, horrified.
    “And Tyro?”
    “Well, I didn’t see it myself, but seeing as I shot him at point blank range, I’m left to presume that he too has moved on to his next life.” The old Time lord said, dismissively. In his right hand he held a small device, which looked to Lorendria as if it should fit around the wrist.
    “I saw your vision too, remember.” The Archivist hissed. “I know all of the pieces of the puzzle. They just need to be slotted in to place.” He held the device up in front of him. “I’m sure you know what one of these is?”

    “A Vortex Manipulator.” Lorendria answered, her attention on Axelle, who was weakly gasping for breath. “Primitive time travel device, and potentially dangerous, as there is no capsule involved.”

    “Very good.” The Archivist mocked. “You’ve been paying attention. That explains why you were always one of the old man’s favourites.” He began to tap at the buttons on the device, facing it towards the pair on the floor.

    “Of course, the limitation of our TARDIS’ is that the passenger must always be on board, the machine must travel with them.”
    “And?” Lorendria snapped, half surprised that the Archivist had not yet made his way to kill her.

    “And, my dear,” The sickly smile spread over his face, “although primitive, the Vortex Manipulator does not have that problem.”

    Pressing one final button, the Archivist watched in triumph as the device ripped open a hole in space and time, right around Lorendria and Axelle. Seconds later, they vanished before his eyes.

    “One more piece in place.”

Share This Page