Theta took note of the barely disguised flicker of contempt in Meirion's eyes as he approached.
Meirion was hardly a person he enjoyed talking to, but at the moment, necessity was the master. Borusa, his advisor, was still too angry about the antigrav cycle for approach, and Meirion was the only professor he didn't currently owe an overdue assignment, therefore was the only professor he could communicate with -- without coming up with an explanation.
"A fine day for learning, is it not?" Theta offered as his opening gambit.
The professor's lip curled slightly, but he could hardly object to such a pleasantry.
"A fine day indeed if such as yourself is contemplating applying himself to study," the teacher said, with not a little sarcasm.
Theta ignored the jab. "I was hoping you might assist me in my studies."
"If you've decided to catch up on three wasted terms in the next few days, I'm afraid I don't feel equal to the task of assisting," the professor said with a sniff. He was about to turn away, but Theta stopped him.
"I'm simply looking for a reference work. For my thesis. I can't seem to find it in the library. Not even a notation that it's been removed. I wonder if you know anything about it."
"It is?"
"It's a work on early 20th century Earth by Nadotal."
"Nadotal," the professor sneered. "I should have known. Don't bother yourself. He never wrote anything of consequence."
"Do you know him?"
Meirion's expression turned to open contempt.
"Hardly."
"Any help you could give me to track it down ..."
"I wouldn't be looking for Nadotal's writings if I were you. You're in a precarious enough spot as it is," the professor said, poking his thin, clawlike finger at Theta's chest. "I suppose it isn't surprising you'd be interested in that ... person. But if you know what's good for you, you'll drop this line of inquiry immediately.
"Take my advice, Theta Sigma. Forget about Earth, and humans, and the writings of social malcontents. Straighten up and get your final project done. One hates to see the efforts of all your instructors wasted as you fail through your own laziness and intransigence."
Meirion turned on his heel and stalked away.
Theta frowned. This wasn't going to be as simple as it looked.
Nell sat with her ankle propped on a small stool. It was encased in an absolutely low-tech plaster cast. Theta had offered to pay for a healer from the Citadel, but Nell refused -- much to his puzzlement. She insisted he take her to the nurse-practitioner who did pro bono work in the undercity instead. Of course, that meant no accelerated bone regrowth and only the simplest analgesic. And it meant she wouldn't be able to work for more than a month.
Miranda fussed over her mother and did all she could to make her comfortable. Nell reflected that the benefit of this situation was getting to spend more time with her daughter. Miranda was as dutiful a child as a mother could ask for, but she was a young adult and these days she enjoyed spending most of her time away from home.
Change. Everything was changing. Even in this calcified society nothing could keep a little girl from growing up, or her mother from growing old, Nell reflected.
She wondered at the foolishness of following Theta into the transport tube. What had gotten into her anyway?
A knock came on the door, and Miranda called out "I'll get it, mother."
A moment later, she ushered Theta into the room carrying a large hamper.
"I haven't come empty-handed," he said heartily, going to the table and unloaded a variety of meat and vegetable pies and seed cakes.
"We aren't going to starve, Theta," Nell said gently.
"I thought you might have trouble getting out to do your marketing," he replied.
"Thank you. It's very kind of you."
Miranda looked over the offerings. "Oh! I love these!" she said, picking out a meat pie.
Theta smiled at her. "Then I'll make sure to bring you some more."
"If you're going to do your lesson now, I'll get out of your way," the girl said shyly.
"It's all right, you can stay if you like."
"She's dying to get out and meet her friends at the market," Nell said. "Run along dear. I can manage."
Miranda curtsied awkwardly, and left with the air of one released from prison.
Theta looked after her thoughtfully. "Her friends ... do they know?"
Nell smiled. "People aren't so conscious of social status down here as they are in the Citadel. But no. They don't know. Miranda's origins are known to very few people. I really shouldn't have told you. I hope you'll be discreet."
"Of course. I understand."
He took a book out of the now much emptier hamper. "Now, let me see. What am I to make of this one? 'The Mysterious Stranger.' I liked the other Mark Twain book you recommended, and I found this one. It's so completely different from the other, though. It's so ... grim."
Nell smiled sadly. "The author got old."
There were no references to Nadotal in any of the publications Theta could find through the usual channels. That was odd in itself. If he was still alive, he should have been in the main directory -- even if he was off-planet or in another era. If Meirion hadn't reacted so strongly to the name, Theta might be doubting that any such person had ever existed.
Remembering a phrase from another of the books Nell had recommended, he reflected that Nadotal had become an "unperson."
But if he had lived -- if he had ever had use of a TARDIS for off-planet observation -- there had to be a record of him somewhere.
The Archive seemed like the best place to start. The biodata rods were sacrosanct. Even as uncomfortable with objective truth as the Time Lords were, the Council would never remove or destroy a biodata record from the Archive. To do so would be blasphemy.
Of course, the Archive wasn't open to casual research by students. This project was going to require some subterfuge.
With that in mind, he changed out of his student's robes and went to the Guard station outside the Castellan's office. The guardsman there was watching an entertainment on his portable holocube viewer.
"I have an urgent message for the Castellan."
"It's after hours. Come back tomorrow," the guardsman said, waving him off.
"I said, I have an urgent message for the Castellan."
The guardsman looked annoyed. "Lay it here. I'll give it to him in the morning."
"He needs to know this immediately."
"If you think I'm going to disturb the Castellan at this time of night, think again. That would be more than my rank is worth."
"It might be worth more than your rank to delay this message."
"I'll decide that. Give it here."
Theta handed over a small crystal cube, which the guardsman put in a reader.
"As I thought. This is nothing to disturb the Castellan with. Evidence of an intruder in the East Tower. These tower managers are such self-important twits. I'll go down and take a report and present it to the Castellan tomorrow."
The guardsman picked up a data recorder and started to leave, but stopped when he saw Theta was still standing there. "That will be all," he said pointedly.
Theta started to walk away, but looked over his shoulder to see the guardsman take care to lock his post before leaving. He waited around the first corner, and went back as soon as guardsman was out of sight.
Theta's sonic screwdriver made short work of the lock on the guardsman's post. Inside he rifled through the desk and found a variety of keys. The lock on the Castellan's office wouldn't be so easy to defeat as this one. The locks on Council members' doors all used double encryption and a mechanical bolt that made them impervious to electronic jimmying. But the guardsman here would have a key to the office, since entering that space would be part of his rounds.
The gold key had to be the one, Theta reasoned, but he pocketed two others, just to be sure. With luck, he would have achieved his goal and returned the key before the post's keeper returned from the East Tower. Theta had chosen that spot for his wild goose chase particularly because it took longer to get there and back than practically any other spot in the Citadel.
Inside the Castellan's office, the next problem was to find the key to the Archive. The Archive's importance was such that only one key existed, and only the Castellan could be trusted as its keeper. There was always the possibility that the Castellan kept it on his person, but Theta was gambling that he kept it under lock and key in his office.
But where was it? In the desk drawer? No, too easily broken into. In the safe? No, too obvious. It would be hidden. And it would be in plain sight -- that's how Time Lords' minds worked. They had contempt for everybody's intelligence but their own. So the key would be someplace the Castellan figured nobody else would expect.
Theta looked around the office. The Castellan's taste was baroque, to say the least. Everything was ornate, gilded, covered with decorative scrollwork. Even the floor underfoot was covered in an intricate pattern. The only smooth surface on the desk was the top, covered in highly polished rosewood. The sides and front were carved in historical bas-reliefs depicting great moments in Gallifreyan history. The walls were hung with paintings of the Founders in heroic poses.
There was bric-a-brac everywhere. Theta's spirits sank. A thorough search of this office would take hours. He didn't have enough time.
He was about to give up, when his eyes fell on the desk again. The carving in the center of the front -- Omega presenting Rassilon with the key to the Eye of Harmony. A smile spread across Theta's lips. Of course.
The key in the carving was exaggerated, much too large for the scale of the characters. When Theta touched it, it slid backward. It was a catch. He heard the click and looked up to see the compartment popping open in the top of the desk.
The Castellan was such an arrogant twit -- making the lock for the key a key was so obvious. Theta pocketed the key.
The Archive was just a short distance down another corridor. The key fit in the lock and turned smoothly. He was inside without incident.
The messenger arrived at Borusa's personal quarters and bowed apologetically.
"A message from the Castellan."
"Yes, yes. Put it on the table," the cardinal said with a wave of his hand. He continued reading from the data terminal he was studying.
"I believe it's urgent, sir."
Borusa shut down the terminal.
"Of course it is," he said irritably. "The Castellan doesn't send messages at this time of night unless they are urgent. Now be gone."
The messenger gone, Borusa popped the cube into his reader.
The Castellan's gray face appeared on his screen.
"Our cat is prowling. I believe we'll find him in the Archive."
Theta stood before the bank of biodata rods. A record of every Time Lord who had ever lived. There were thousands. The question was, which one? There had to be an index.
A data terminal yielded the information he was looking for. He found Nadotal's name in the loom records, and from that found the index number for his biodata extract. It took a few more minutes to hack into the biodata control program, but as soon as he had fooled the computer into accepting his randomly generated password, he had the problem solved. The rod rose from its berth in the biodata bank.
The next problem was how to get this information to a location where he could study it at length. The biodata extract contained terabytes of information. It would take hours to sort through it and find out what he wanted to know. But, quite intentionally, there were no data-cube recorders in the room. Biodata was meant to be read here -- never taken away.
The only hard-copy device in the room was an antiquated paper printer. Naturally, Theta told himself, they want to make sure any information you take out of here is difficult to conceal. He pressed a few keys, then waited as the old printer spit out a stack of fan-fold paper.
The final printout was several inches thick, and printed in tiny script that packed every page. After returning Nadotal's extract to its berth, Theta shut down the data terminal and tidied up -- hoping to erase all evidence that he had been there.
He was about to leave when the door opened. Theta's hearts fell. The guardsman he had earlier sent off to the East Tower stood in the doorway -- his staser drawn.
"Not as clever as we think we are, are we?"
"Well, I can't really say about you," Theta said, straightening up and starting to walk straight toward the his captor at an unhurried pace.
"Stay where you are, and put the printout down."
Theta kept moving, neither speeding toward the guardsman nor stopping. He was counting on the fact that guards in the Citadel seldom saw any sort of action. They were just for show. The prospect of actually shooting someone would be alien to this man. He would have to think about it first.
When Theta was within arm's reach of the guardsman, he abruptly swung the heavy printout, knocking the staser aside, and pushing the guardsman off balance. Putting his shoulder down and barreling forward, he bumped into his adversary's chest, pushing him out of the way. Theta was off and running for his life.
He ran with more conviction than he had ever put into anything. This was no escapade on a stolen antigrav cycle. This was a serious crime. Stealing biodata would get him a long prison sentence at the very least, not to mention the removal of his forthcoming regenerations. There were few crimes in Gallifreyan society that compared to what he had just done.
Theta skidded around a corner and pounded down another corridor. He hardly knew where he was going. He simply had to get away -- far enough to lose his pursuer. If he could just open a little more space between himself and the guardsman...
An alarm sounded. Not a good sign. It wouldn't be a single guardsman chasing him now. It would be the entire on-duty Guard. He had to find a way to conceal himself.
A service stairway. Theta yanked the door open and started down taking three stairs at a time. He emerged three levels below, out into the university district. This could be good, he thought. Even at this time of night there were always students about in the commons. He might be able to lose himself there. Particularly if ...
An Arcalian student stepped out nearly colliding with Theta, who drew himself up short.
"Good evening, brother scholar," Theta said, breathlessly. The Arcalian looked him up and down. Of course, dressed in a workman's breeches and linen shirt, he hardly looked like someone who would address an Arcalian as a peer -- as a "brother scholar."
Before the other student could comment, Theta had whipped an arm around his neck and had him in a choke hold. The Arcalian was silenced by the pressure on his windpipe. He might have stayed conscious longer if he had thought to switch to his respiratory bypass, but luckily for Theta, this Arcalian was newly matriculated, and hadn't received that particular bit of physiological instruction yet. The student slumped to the floor and Theta laid him down gently.
Theta dragged the inert Arcalian into an alcove and removed his robe. He would be a great deal less conspicuous dressed this way, even if he wasn't an Arcalian.
With the printout tucked into the waist of his breeches under the academic robe, Theta moved out into the commons.
The Guard burst in a moment later. Half a dozen red-uniformed guardsmen fanned out into the commons, looking each student in the face, and asking for information on a man in workman's clothing who might have run through the area within the last few moments.
Theta sat down at a table with several other Arcalians and kept his face turned down.
"Some excitement," one of the other students said. "I wonder what this fellow in breeches did?"
"Something horrible, I'm sure," snickered a second student. Theta glanced up to see the source of the laugh. His eyes met those of one of his table mates, who frowned.
"I don't recall seeing you before, brother scholar," he said.
"I'm new here," Theta mumbled.
"Are you? Isn't that strange. I checked the new class into their quarters only two days ago. And I don't recall seeing you."
"I arrived late."
"How odd. You arrived late. And you seem to be wearing a robe that belongs to one of the other new students. Lamba Omega. He got that smear on the left sleeve when he tripped on the Panopticon stairs this morning. I was right behind him."
Everybody at the table was staring directly at him now. Theta cursed his luck.
"Oh, Guard, over here!" the Arcalian called out. "I think we may have your man."
Theta stood abruptly, and as he did, the printout slipped from his waistband and spilled out on the floor at his feet. The paper spread out in a ribbon as Theta started to run. There was nothing he could do. If he stopped to pick up his prize, he would be caught for certain. He vaulted over a table and several chairs and made for the far door. He was out of the robe in a flash. It fluttered to the floor behind him as he sprinted toward freedom.
Theta was gone before anybody really registered that he was going to run rather than give himself up peacefully. The Arcalians were left looking at the space where he had been in dumb amazement.
All that was left behind was the printout. It was picked up and passed around. The fan-fold ribbon had been divided into sections in a matter of moments.
"Would you look at this! It's someone's biodata extract. Look at this ..."
"By the Eye, I've never seen one of these before."
"Look, do you believe this? Look what this fellow did."
By the time the guardsmen got to the table, the printout had disappeared in twenty or thirty different directions. There was nothing left for the Guard to collect.
And before the sun that few people took notice of rose over the great dome of the Citadel, people were talking. The story spread like oil on the surface of water.
The phrase was repeated again and again as one person after another heard the story -- and the story grew with each embellishment. But the same phrase was always the reaction.
"With a human?"