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Encounters and Exits - Encounters and Exits

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Encounters and Exits

'How did you get in here?' said Romana. She was walking through the garden with Lord Ferain. He of the black robes and black hearts.

'The same way that you are not here, Madam President.' He was smiling. 'We're both ghosts, are we not?' He reached for her hand and their fingers slid through each other like mist. 'Your ruse with Almoner Crest Yeux almost worked. Very convincing if you were there, I'm sure. But your projected image did not transfer well to the small screen...'

'...when transmitted by your spy optics,' said Romana.

Ferain scanned the hazy Arcadian vistas. 'You must come home, Madam. The whole of Gallifrey is waiting for you.'

'When I'm ready,' she said.

'Which will be?'

'When I'm ready.' Her tone was suddenly icy.

He sighed. 'Consorting with un-Gallifreyans - who, incidentally, will not get very far. Ignoring your duties. Flaunting your office. There is a lot to answer. But rest assured, Madam, we have the Capitol under secure control.'

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She stopped walking and turned to him. 'No, you be assured, Ferain. When I return, your Agency, my Agency, will be carpeted so fast, you won't ... you won't see the trees for dust! Things are changing, my Lord. Gallifrey will never be the same again. The tortoises are about to stampede.'

She watched the garden and Lord Ferain dissolve before her.

'What do I do now?' she said in desperation. 'I didn't want to give the Doctor that "mission" in the first place. And now it's all going wrong.' She turned to the woman with the silver face. 'Have I done the right thing?'

'Oh, yes,' said the woman.

'But the CIA will try anything, any way at all to find out about the Doctor. We can't lose him.'

The woman nodded. She had the composure and certainty of a priestess of older times. 'It is foreseen.'

Romana blenched at the thought. 'As long as the Doctor doesn't know that,' she said.

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The secretary showed Doroth\xE9e out into a long cloister. Her bike was parked at one end, the bags of groceries still in place. She managed to force the black globe into one of them and then strapped on her helmet and mounted up.

The secretary seemed unduly nervous, his eyes darting everywhere. 'Please hurry,' he said. 'The coordinates are set.'

It was only then that she noticed he was carrying a gun. She heard running footsteps and saw two grey guards round the corner halfway along the passage.

The secretary raised his gun to fire.

A bolt of painful light hit him squarely in the chest. He crumpled.

Doroth\xE9e started the bike. It snarled into readiness.

The guards were running towards her, guns raised. She lowered her head and prepared to ride straight into hell.

Two ruby needles stabbed through the air and floored the guards. Two familiar tin dogs rounded the corner.

'Thanks, boys,' shouted Doroth\xE9e.

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Simultaneously, something slid on to the saddle behind her. 'Go, quickly,' said Leela's voice.

More footsteps behind them. More guards.

'Go!' yelled Leela.

Doroth\xE9e pulled away. Sparks tore from the machine as she wove it up the passage. Bolts of fizzing light overtook them, exploding on the wall that loomed ahead.

The bust of a previous President detonated in front of them.

'Pandak the Original!' shouted Leela and the wall vanished in a clap of golden thunder.

The staff of the Tharil Embassy watched the door. They had barricaded themselves in only to find that there were already guards posted outside to keep them from leaving.

They waited for news from the President, but no news came.

Prince Whitecub, his noble mane unkempt, paced his office like a caged beast. 'Are we political hostages?' he asked the guards, but they were low-born creatures with no scent of honour or protocol.

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To confound the passing of time, he listened to his ambassadorial attaches as they told tales of ancient deeds from the nether past of their own universe.

'And Vlasolf the Timewalker walked the wind back to the very dawn of all hunting. And in that first ferment, he saw the Night Hunter and the Light Hunter divided. Black and white prides arrayed to begin their eternal battle. But laughter cut through the roaring of their challenges. And between them padded the Blood Thief. The red-handed Jackal whose cunning balances the scales of war.'

The communication screen on the Prince's table opened like an eye, revealing the anxious features of Chancellor Theorasdavoramilonithene.

'Chancellor, are you safe?'

'My Lord Prince, we need your help.'

He spread his paws wide. 'We are prisoners here. There is little we can do.'

'Yes, yes, you can.' Her eyes were darting round. 'I must ask for sanctuary in the bounds of your Embassy.'

'For you, Chancellor?'

'No, Your Excellency.' She paused to compose her request. 'No. I ask for sanctuary for the President of Gallifrey from her own people.'

She turned away, startled, to look at something. The screen crackled and went dead.