Flavia's concluding words brought the Doctor back to the present.
"I believe everyone else on the Inter-Council is known to you, Doctor."
"Yes your Excellency, thank you. Castellan Terrace, Councilor Sondergraff, Councilor Matthew, Cardinal Raymond." The Doctor bowed in Gallifreyan obeisance.
The Castellan was the last one to return a bow, and it was painfully obvious to all, he was not president of the Doctor's fan club.
A shuffling sound caused the Doctor to turn her head towards it. Another Time Lord had just entered the Council chamber. "Chief Surgeon General!" the Doctor enthused. This was one Gallifreyan she was genuinely delighted to see. Taking his offered hand she shook it zestfully. "Dear and glorious physician, how goes Lord Gomer's Cyclic Bursts?"
"Quite well, Doctor," Gomer replied, smiling warmly. "Quite well. You never do forget, do you, Lord President?"
The Doctor slightly embarrassed by the greeting, although it certainly was Gallifreyan proper, shook her head. "But that Presidential thing was ages ago, Lord Gomer." She sighed. "And only briefly at that. I would have hoped all of Gallifrey had forgotten ..."
Flavia gently touched the Doctor's sleeve interrupting her, as Gomer began to shake his head in respectful disagreement. "Doctor, there is another gentle man who is most anxious to see you , as it was he who located your TARDIS for us; and under my order sent out the Panoptican summons."
Turning from Gomer, the Doctor beamed, as the old Gallifreyan slowly tottered towards her.
"Damon! My dear, dear ol' thing!" The Doctor placed a heartsfelt hand on Damon's stooped shoulder, shaking his hand animatedly, recognizing his attire instantly. "Well ... a Coordinator now? And about time too. Congratulations!"
"Thank you, Doctor," Damon replied softly. "Though it is you who are mainly responsible for the ..."
The Doctor sighed, looking deeply into the ancient face of her long time friend. "Has it truly been that long since I was last on Gallifrey?"
"Yes, Doctor, the years measure far too well against my face. Soon I too will Regenerate."
"Then let's fast and pray you have much better luck with yours, than I had with mine." The Doctor's soft hazel eyes sparkled impishly.
Damon looked at his friend, uncomprehending. But then, Damon very seldom understood this enigmatic friend. At one time he pondered, that his lack of comprehension came from the fact that unlike the Doctor, Damon was not a Time Lord. But life long experiences had taught the gentle Shebogan, the other Time Lords, even those of the Inter-Council, presently surrounding him, understood this Prydonian renegade no whit better than himself. To Damon, it was enough that the Doctor was simply the Doctor, and his trusted, valued friend.
Damon case his eyes downward. "Other than a little short of stature ... looks like it turned out all right. And what, ever so kind and wise, eyes."
The Doctor smiled warmly. "Thank you, Damon."
Damon bowed. "And once again you return to us a hero," he said solemnly.
The Doctor arched a brow. "I do?"
"Well," Damon said with a snort. "I certainly do not make it a habit of traveling round the Cosmos in a rackety old TT capsule saving entire civilizations from Daleks at the jeopardy of interrupted life spans!"
"Of course you don't my dear lad," she agreed, placing an arm on his shoulder. " You have much more sense than that. But Damon, surely you know how these things arrive from afar greatly exaggerated."
"The people of Pisces Australis Nine are not ones to embellish formal reports when they informed us of your involvement, which resulted in the termination of Dalek plans on their world," Damon insisted. "I saw the public register videos myself."
"Then you know I wasn't alone. My three companions showed the greatest of heroics, especially Kamelion."
Damon nodded. "Very true, but that does not lessen their leader's ..."
The Doctor, obviously uncomfortable with Damon's enthusiastic praise, interrupted him, hoping to redirect him. "Perhaps not Damon, but the people of PA-9 do tend to carry on so." She moved to place a hand on Damon's shoulder for a second time. "But always a pleasure to see the one who helped us defeat Omega."
"Damon, please take charge of my companions, if you would be so kind."
Damon bowed and nodded.
Turning from him she faced the most powerful figure on Gallifrey. Clasping her hand together in a gesture highly reminiscent of Cricket
Flavia pointed a way, leading the Doctor to a room adjoining the Council chamber.
She stopped in front of a large computer complex, singling out a specific technician. "Doctor, this is Technician Torbis."
"Greetings, Tesh," the Doctor intoned mystically, her fingertips together, before her face.
"Tesh, Doctor?" Torbis asked.
The Doctor smiled, rubbing her nose. "Ah yes, long story. Perhaps after all this is settled, not only will I explain this Tesh thing to you, but I will be able to look up three very dear friends." Bending over the technician's shoulder, deeply engrossed in the primary console's read out, she sighed deeply. "Andred ... Leela ... K9 ... Seems all I have is former friends."
The Doctor flipped her Cape out of the way. It was if her action also tossed aside all jest. "What seems to be your problem?"
But already the Doctor had guessed most of the answer, after all, she could read Gallifreyan script very well (it was the only Text the TARDIS knew); as to her knowledge of the MATRIX, well, it was knowledge intimate.
Torbis pointed to a spot on the monitor, where a small irregular pulsation was being intensely watch dogged. "Well, Doctor?"
The Doctor's eyes journeyed to the larger visual display of the MATRIX network overhead.
Torbis continued."As you can plainly see Doctor, the MARTIX'es neuron field is being drained of its hyperon energies in the frequencies seven through nine."
"And apparently by something that resembles a C. V. E. ..." Her voice tailed away as she realized what she was saying. She began to stroke her cheek. "That's not supposed to happen, Monitor."
"But how can you say that with such certainty, Doctor?" Flavia asked. The scientist in Flavia took over. "CVE's are random ... natural ... and they have never been a threat ..."
"Not necessarily your Excellency," the Doctor gently corrected her, remembering all too well the scientist mathematicians of Logopolis, creators of the CVE's, as she began keying in queries, commandeering Torbis'es console. The Doctor understood the reasons behind Flavia's misconceptions, but like most science lessons, they would keep, for a safer, quieter time.
Her eyes returned to overhead image of the MATRIX. She began to chew her thumbnail, concentrating intently.
Flavia smiled. One of the Doctor's earlier persona use to do that whenever he was concentrating. Which one was it? Ah yes, the third one, the fancy dresser; during that unfortunate time of his confinement on Earth.
"Aup!" the Doctor uttered softly in astonishment, her eyes still studying the MATRIX'es scan. Traveling back to Torbis'es monitor, her eyes narrowed. "There it is again!"
"What, Doctor?"
"No, Who, actually, Dr Who, at your service."
Torbis was more confused than ever.
"This here, man," she indicated, jabbing at a small bullet on his screen that was there, then gone, then back again. "If you blink you might miss it."
"Looks to me like a recursive power surge emanating from ," the Doctor paused. "The Dead Zone. What do you think, Tesh?"
The Doctor looked straight at Flavia.
The Doctor's words had brought a sudden hush to the huddled members of the Inter-Council.
"Who has activated The Dead Zone your Excellency? And to what end?"
"I do not know, Doctor," Flavia answered. "The recursion was not present until just this now. Was it Technician Torbis?"
Torbis nodded.
Castellan Terrace nodded wordlessly, evincing his own silent protest. The Doctor always meant trouble. The vote to send for him would not have been unanimous had he not been bullied! Now they would all pay, dearly.
"Aren't things severe enough with the MATRIX in jeopardy?" Flavia asked, pulling her white, presidential robe tighter round her.
"Apparently someone thinks not, Madame President," the Doctor replied.
Technician Torbis hadn't taken his eyes off the shiny black bullet that came and went, nor from his monitor through all the previous question and debate.
"You are correct, Doctor," Torbis informed. "The recursion seems to have localized round these coordinates."
"The Dead Zone?" The Doctor sighed deeply, rubbing her face with her left hand.
Torbis nodded.
"Why do I feel I'm being drawn into Rassilon's lair with or without my permission?"
Torbis shrugged.
"Well, thanks for all the fish, Tesh, anyway."
Turning towards Flavia the Doctor decided. "With your permission, Madame President, and of course the permission of the other members of the Inter-Council, I wish to ask permission for my two companions and I to enter the Forbidden Zone to determine what is behind these recursive surges; and see if they have any connection with the drain on the MATRIX."
"The Inter-Council will have to take the matter under consideration, Doctor," Flavia answered softly. The two anomalies may not be related, Doctor."
The Doctor's shoulders drooped. She had hoped just once to circumvent the red tape of one of the oldest bureaucracy in the Cosmos, but could feel herself being tied round and round with it until she couldn't move. So she did the only thing she could do, she surrendered to hopefully older and wiser heads.
"Of course, Madame President," she said bowing. "I will wait in my capsule for your decision," she said, looking round tentatively. "If that is satisfactory."
But what the Doctor really wanted to say was she was primed and ready for action, and was very impatient with all this blasted Gallifreyan inaction.
"As you wish, Doctor," Flavia decided.
"Doctor?"
"Yes, Damon?"
"May I come with you, back to your TARDIS?"
"Of course dear friend, then perhaps, once there, you would be so good to fill me in on my old companions ... Leela and her husband Andred, and, and, of course K9 also."
Damon nodded. "And Adric too?"
"Adric!"
Damon nodded once again, but this time, very mysteriously.
The Doctor stuck out her chin. "Adric?"
Curious as she was, she still remembered her manners. She turned, and bowed to the President a second time. And started to leave then, when a tense smile crept across her slender face. She froze in her tracks. She was being shadowed, not only by Munchkin and K9 but by Maxil and his lads.
Throwing up her arms, she accepted too, this inevitability.
With all the arrogance of a seasoned Prydonian, the Doctor strode across Computer Central, the High Council Chamber, and into the Capitol's maze of corridors; shadowed by her companions and the security squad.
The eyes of the Inter-Council remained ever riveted on the disappearing form of the Doctor, and right beside her, Coordinator Damon.
The Master was busily monitoring several terminals in the gaming room of his TARDIS. He appeared very pleased, almost buoyant.
"Oh, very good, very good," he said, gloating, tapping his index fingers together. "The CVE tap in, plus the combined energies from my TARDIS, and the CyberShip, are draining the MARTIX'es hyperon energies most satisfactorily. Who but I would have thought to use my Omegan Crystal Banks as a storage battery? Who indeed?" The Master chuckled with glee. But suddenly he was deadly serious
"Still, how very difficult it is to stand here, observing, and patiently waiting."
What the Master was so intently looking at was a slowly rising column of a purple fluid in a transparent tube.
"But when the level finally does reach the top mark I will be able to reinstate a new cycle of Regenerations for myself." His eyes narrowed. "And I will finally be able to even the score with those Time Louses who once promised to give me a second cycle ... yet managed to weasel out of it in the end."
Rubbing his gloved hands together the Master seemed to make up his mind. "Yes, yes. Now, to keep my promise to those tin plated, rusty, sardine cans. Destruction of the Transduction Barrier, and elimination of the Quantum Force Field surrounding Gallifrey. I knew becoming one with the MATRIX would one day come in handy. And I believe that little tune goes something like this."
His fingers moved slowly, determinedly across the computer keyboard, as if the Master was stalking a victim; or as if the inputting of his particular brand of evil into the algorithm, was an action that required both intense physical and mental effort.
A very menacing gleam came to the Master's cold, dark stare; and he smiled.***
At present Damon was sitting in a large, high backed, veranda chair, in a large room the Doctor had long ago nicknamed the Bathroom. Actually it was much more than just that. True, it did contain necessary facilities for both male and female companions, but it also housed a large swimming pool, showers, a video game room, patio, theater, and automated buffeteria. It even housed a partridge in a pear tree, from the time when one of Fancy Pant's
The Doctor quietly entered, in the stomach churning attire of her former self
As Damon continued to stare at the Doctor, he knew something was definitely different about him, but just what it was eluded him completely.
The Doctor grinned toothily. "Much better. But one always feels better after a shower. Now to the hearty meal. Perhaps my last."
"Please don't talk like that, Doctor."
The Doctor bent over, close to Damon. "OK. So ... what do you say to the earrings, dear Damon?" she asked, placing her hands behind her ears to emphasize the pain of round, shiny, silver, pierced earrings with slender monogrammed question marks.
Damon was speechless, males of Gallifrey did not wear earrings, pierced or otherwise; not even the outlaw Seedle Warriors! And was that flutterwing perfume attacking his nose? No, he must be mistaken. True, his friend was a renegade, often doing the unexpected, but never was the Doctor caught being anything but male!
Sulking in frustration at Damon's silence -- couldn't Damon add two and two? -- the Doctor decided drastic measures were called for. Bounding to her feet she hurriedly removed the multi patterned coat, and dark veined waistcoat that looked as if someone may have sicked up on it. What was revealed to Damon then, was a pair of white braces festooned with bright red question marks, a white shirt, and beneath them, a delicately flowing, unmistakably feminine form.
Damon was appalled.
"Doctor! You're a girl!" he exclaimed, at last finding his voice.
"You noticed that, Damon," the Doctor teased.
Yes, Damon had noticed, but he was also astounded.
"But ... but ... how, Doctor? Some sort of alien virus?"
The Doctor chuckled, lacing her fingertips together. "I don't know!" Her eyes narrowed. "Though, I doubt that this is an illness I'll quickly recover from."
Damon nodded with a sly grin.
"And you thought Gallifrey had problems. Ha!"
Returning to the security of the waistcoat and Technicolor coat, the Doctor sat down, beginning to devour her synthetic meal.
Damon, rude as he knew it was, just continued to stare.
"It is quite remarkable just how much you do resemble the Doctor, Doctor," Damon said absently.
"But I am the Doctor, Damon," the Doctor offered.
"No, I mean the older one, the fourth one."
"But my dear Damon, I am older than any of them," the Doctor argued. "Any of them to date, anyWHO."
"Oh dear," Damon sighed. "This is all getting very complicated!"
"Getting, Coordinator Damon? Getting?" The Doctor looked at her long time friend warily, her soft hazel eyes widening with their whimsey.
Turning to Munchkin she winked.
The CyberLieutenant looked up from his console. "Leader, we are nine spans from Gallifrey and closing. By now they must have us on sensor range, and will be placing their planet's security on amber alert."
"Then let them have the security of their amber alert for all the good it will do them," the CyberLeader said. "All is going as planned."
"Yes, Leader," the CyberLieutenant replied, as devoid of any emotion as his leader had been.***
The Doctor escorted between Coordinator Damon and President Flavia entered the large cream colored main Console Room of the TARDIS.
The Doctor was still shaking her head. "I don't know about all this Madame President."
"Seems equably fair to me, Doctor. You fix, as you say, the drain on the MATRIX, and we will at long last fix your TARDIS.
"Bartering," she mumbled, head bowed. Looking up to Flavia the Doctor smiled widely, nodding. "OK, I agree."
"Wonderful," Flavia beamed.
It was with a great deal of pleasure that Flavia introduced her chosen team of technicians to the Doctor. For once he was, that is, she was going to allow someone to return a favor.
"Besides," Technician Russeell began, assuring the Doctor, "It really is better to leave this kind of troubleshooting to the experts."
"Whaaa ...? Experts? Experts! Listen, Tesh, I am not some fly by night ... Saturday ... shade tree mech ..." The Doctor was ready to do bodily harm. Unknown to him, Russeell had tromped on a very sensitive nerve. Her eyes narrowed. "I understand the TARDIS perfectly! There is not one single part of her system that I haven't adjusted, or tweaked, or repaired, or replaced, or bubble gummed together, at sometime or the other."
The Doctor began to pace animatedly round the wide console, and the head technician. "I even put her back together after a third of her was jettisoned. And replacing a deleted Zero Room is not for part time amateurs!" She began to bluster. "The hex computations alone took me weeks of work! Sure could have used ... Adric."
The Doctor drew herself up to her full height. "Furthermore, I am in complete and constant control of her!"
The Doctor winced, and scratched her head. "Ah, except for this one, tiny, little, Cloister Bell thing."
Without missing a beat she changed the subject. "And while you're at it Technician Russeell, would you be so good as to fix my Temporal Grace Circuit? I am really quite at odds without it." '
Russeell nodded good humoredly. "Yes, Doctor."
The Doctor began to pace once more, seeming very close to changing her mind. Seeing the avalanche of technicians beginning to descend on her main console was, at best, unnerving.
"So many ... Lady President?"
Flavia nodded. "Only the best for a former President."
The Doctor snarled.
"Oh yes," the Doctor suddenly remembered. "The audio linkup on the scanner, it's on the friz again. I suppose you don't have a Friz who could fix it up smartly?" the Doctor asked, her voice full of hope.
Russeell shook his head. "No, will a Cristoefur do?"
The Doctor shrugged. "I suppose. Always was fond of that name. I remember telling Chris Columbus ..." her voice began to trailed off. "Chameleon Circuit!" she exclaimed.
"Doctor?" inquired Russeell, genuinely amused.
"After leaving Jaconda, I tinkered with the circuit, and the TARDIS actually changed its appearance three times: to a wardrobe, and a pipe organ, and finally into a set of double doors; before it rubber banded back into the police box." The Doctor's face soured.
"Will see what I can do. I'll put Keneth on it. He's the best I have with CC circuits."
"One more thing, Tesh," the Doctor launched off again. "Whenever you start taking her apart, several other things will go zap in the interim." Grimacing, her pacing began again. When next she spoke it was like she was lecturing to a class. "Now remember, type forties generate a low intensity telepathic field, and that's tied into her primary defense system, and my own isomorphic connection with her, please not to disrupt that. I've already checked out the main logic junctions in the system circuitry board, and everything checked out green. I logged it all in my maintenance log. Oh yes, I did leave the panel undone. Terribly heavy hatch." She stopped her pacing and turned to face the head technician, pausing for breath.
Her brief moment of silence gave the grinning Russeell time to respond.
"Yes, Doctor, will oversee it all, personally. And Doctor?"
"Yes?"
"You are to commended for keeping this TT capsule in such good condition, but ..."
"Thank you," the Doctor cut in. "It really has never been my forte, you know," she teased.
Very quickly her confident look began to slowly fade. "Actually, I've never left her to anyone, since I, ah, first borrowed her awhile back." Her face brightened. "Come to think of it, she was in for repairs at the time. Had time not been so much at a premium I ..." She began to smile, leaving the thought hanging, and unspoken.
Grinning, Flavia nodded towards Damon. He had told her there was much of the fourth persona in this seventh Doctor. She had to agree. This one had rediscovered his annoying habit, leaving thoughts and things just hanging. This Doctor, obviously, was still deep in the process of finding himself ... that is ...herself!
The Doctor turned towards her console. "There ... there ... my dearest old thing," she replied, lightly patting it. "Don't worry, you are in expert hands at long last." She winced, hoping that statement was true. Lowering her voice she continued. "We both know, ol' thing, this is long ... long overdue."
"Not to worry, Doctor, when you return, and we're finished, you'll think you have a fifty six beneath your feet," Russeell said, brimming with confidence.
Somewhat nervously the Doctor shook the technician's hand. "Then happy hunting, Tesh."
Turning towards Damon and Flavia she squared her shoulders. "Lady President, Friend Damon," she acknowledged gesturing towards the Exit. Suddenly the Doctor spun round to the technician in charge. "Yes, oh yes. One Space/Time element, please. Preferably without a recall circuit!"
Flavia, Damon, and Tesh-nician Russeell smiled widely.
It was quiet in the small examining room. The Doctor (dressed only in a convalescent gown) and President Flavia were waiting for the return of the Surgeon General, Lord Gomer.
Dangling her slender legs over the examining table the Doctor began to, out of sheer boredom, swing them slowly back and forth.
"Your suggestion was an excellent one, Madame President. It will be nice to know exactly what I have become." She pouted. "You know, I could be the beginning of a whole new species!"
Flavia smiled, with motherly affection. "I am of the opinion, Doctor, you are but a member of a very old, and very nobel, Gallifreyan one."
Flavia's eyes narrowed, her gaze falling on the Doctor's untouched legs. "And as soon as we finish your blood work, Gomer is going to permanently remove the hair from your legs."
The Doctor scowled. "Why?" she snorted with a teasing grin. "It's my hair!"
"But totally unacceptable to a female of Gallifrey. But don't worry your little head, Doctor, ibbo electrolysis will solve your problem painlessly, once and for all."
"But I don't have a problem!" she insisted. "Besides, if you think I'm going to let Gomer within ten feet of me with his smokin' laser ..."
"Please trust me Doctor," Flavia soothed, gently stroking her mass of soft curls . "There is much for you to learn about your muliebrity."
The Doctor began to mutter to herself. "I shouldn't have listened to Damon. I shouldn't have told you. I should have just fixed the MATRIX, and then split." She looked up. "Besides, it has not yet been conclusively established that I am woman." She began to grin. "Actually, I don't know what I am! Depending upon my glandular composition, and the presence or lack therein of any and all Y chromosomes I could ..." she began.
"What about Y chromosomes" Gomer interrupted, entering the small examination room, a tray in his hands.
"Oh, no, no, no,no ... no more blood!" the Doctor bellowed. "You already have enough to float a battleship!"
"Just one more set of samples, Doctor," Gomer promised, wondering, ('what in the green crystals of Omega was a battleship').
The Doctor snarled at him. "If you think I am gong to buy into that, Surgeon General."
The physician ignored her, proceeding to draw the required blood samples.
"Well ... at least it's red," the Doctor signed.
"And female," Gomer chuckled.
"You're enjoying this Gomer of theCyclic Bursts, aren't you?" the Doctor demanded, narrowing her eyes.
"Actually, Doctor, apart from that, I am far more curious as to why and how you regenerated as you did. From the test results I have already seen, every cell in your body, hair, blood, skin, has been metamorphosed somehow. The expense of energy on the atomic level required to effect such a change ... it can't be accidental ... it shouldn't even be possible. And yet ..."
"No Y chromosomes then?" the Doctor interrupted.
Gomer slowly shook his head.
"How about under the left kidney?"
Gomer just kept shaking his head.
"Ah, ha! Hiding beneath the wattles?" she said, hoping against all hope, rubbing a stuck out chin.
"No! Wrong count, totally wrong color," Gomer insisted.
Flavia giggled.
The Doctor sighed deeply. "So I've counted ... so I've observed." Her sad, lost puppy eyes journeyed briefly to Flavia. "Well, Gomer, I guess you best get out your ibbo laser," she said with total resignation.
Gomer's brow furrowed briefly in puzzlement; but Flavia was smiling warmly in approval.
The Doctor, flanked by her two companions, stood by the open ended trans matt chamber awaiting transduction, surrounded by President Flavia, the members of the Inter-Council, Commander Maxil and his guard, and a very solemn Coordinator Damon. The governing body had voted to allow only one Gallifreyan access to The Dead Zone, and Damon had so wanted to make that two Gallifreyans. But that was not to be. So now he could but stand and wait. Wait and hope for the Doctor's safe return.
The Doctor was dressed this time (for a very sound reason) in a pair of red and white stripped trousers, and a tan Victorian cricket jacket.
"This recall device will signal us when you wish to return to us, Doctor," Flavia began.
The Doctor smiled. "I remember, Lady President," she replied taking the small compact size, circular device from Flavia's hand, placing it in her pocket. "Thank you."
"Good luck, Doctor, and do be careful," Flavia requested.
"Thank you, your Excellency. But aren't I always?" the Doctor insisted.
Looking skywards towards an imaginary friend, she smiled, replying in a precise Scottish brogue. "Three to beam up, Mr Scott, one mechanical."
Unfortunately the Doctor's final response was lost to Flavia and the others, as the shimmering blur of the trans matt beam converted the Time Lady and Munchkin, and K9 to electrical impulses.