"Come on! Hurry up!"

Delta Epsilon shook his head and shrunk back into the shadows of the archway.

Irritated, "Rassilon's Mighty Ears, why not! We are nearly there!"

"No. It is not ...I won't. And I wish you would stop with those disrespectful oaths."

"What?" He stared, narrow-eyed, at the nervous young man standing with arms clasped tightly around his chest.

"Those oaths. You know, Rassilon's Mighty ..." The voice dropped away and started again at a lower tone, "... disrespectful."

"I can not believe you. Rassilon was just another Time Lord ... ahead of his time but not one to be deified."

Delta Epsilon protested, "I am not deifying him! We are Time Lords, not primitives who are susceptible to the folly of deity-oriented belief systems." This last rather pompously. "But he ... he deserves our respect for all his accomplishments. His legacy to Gallifrey."

"He's dead, Delta E! What does he care whether I comment on his ears?"

"Then why do you do it?"

A frustrated wave of a fine-boned hand. "We do not have time for this now. Are you coming or not?" As Delta Epsilon hesitated, "Have I not promised to help you with that experiment in return? Our bargain?"

After twitching his lips in consideration, Delta Epsilon shook his head. "No. Your approach is sure to be wrong." He turned and slipped away into the deeper shadows of the cloister.

"Delta E! Come back here!" he hissed after the young man. No response. Just the whisper of soft-soled boots as Delta Epsilon hurried away. "Kratz! Bloody fool. I should have known!" He slammed a fist against the smooth stone of the archway. "Ow!"

He sucked on his fingers as he went through his options. Forget the plan? No, he would NOT be defeated! Defer it until he could find someone else willing to help? A cynical laugh. None of the rest of the students at the Academy would have the nerve to help him. Or the inclination. Delta E had been the only possibility in his desperation for help with the lab course. No. Proceed without help. That was the only option. The one he should have pursued from the start. A mistake to rely on others. What the dark Omicron Tau had snarled at him that last day, before escaping.

Time to get on with things.

Just about to step out into the corridor, he heard the clack of heavy boots coming his way, getting louder. Back around the corner of the arch and into the deepest shadows. As the footsteps came closer, he stood very still, focusing on keeping his breathing under control, ignoring the pounding of his hearts.

A large dark form passed by, not in the long robes of a Preceptor of the Academy nor in the thigh-length ones of a student. Short fitted jacket: must be one of the Proctorate. He had heard they were making rounds at night ever since that TARDIS disappeared after the last Academy graduation. Did they realize, as he did, who had taken it?

After several minutes, he slipped forward and peered around the column. No one in sight now. Head down, a dash to the time lab door and fingers quickly tapping the entry code. The door opened and he was in. A long cleansing breath and then a grin. This was too easy. The fools thought they could maintain security with idiotically simple door locks and the cursory patrol of the Proctorate. No proof against his abilities. Not even a challenge. There had been challenges but not this.

He glanced around, noting how different the lab was outside of class time. All small islands of illumination in great lakes of dark shadows. The sounds of the place were different too. Quiet. Quiet until he noticed something, an insistent vibration from the far side of the room. Mysterious. Curious. Exciting.

That surprized him. He felt his blood rushing through his body, his hearts beating at a quicker pace, his breathing speeding up. The sensation was addicting. Rarely felt this intensely alive other times he had broken rules and gone where he was not allowed or done what he was not supposed to do.

He moved stealthily though he knew he was alone in the lab. A shadow among shadows, his body glided around worktables and Preceptor Meirion's control station, as he sought the vibration he heard. Back to far side of the lab, where the row of tall and imposing rectangular forms were: the TARDISes. Four of them, decommissioned for use by the Academy. The usual low humming from the first, the second and the third but still not that vibration. Along to the last in line, nearly in the corner of the room. Yes, this was the one.

He raised his hands and ran his fingers over its front. A slight warmth and beneath that, the vibration tingling the tips of fingers. As he stood there, smiling at it, he could have sworn the vibration changed slightly, increased in tempo and strength. A smile came unbidden to his lips.

"Yes! This is the one!"

A sudden surge of energy and he snatched his hands away and stared up at it, wide eyed. Alive?

Preceptor Meirion said they were not alive, but all these signs could not be ignored. Far more interesting to speculate how close to being a life form a TARDIS was. What had Rassilon really discovered, a mechanical way to tap into the power of the universe or something else? Meirion refused to discuss these ideas, dismissing the argument he put forth as ridiculous romanticism.

A sigh. Well, whatever the truth, the TARDIS fascinated him. That was why he was here. Had to spend some time exploring one without some Preceptor standing over his shoulder monitoring his every move. Making sure he followed the steps of the assignment exactly and did nothing else. They just did not understand.

He drew out the key taken in secret from Meirion's desk yesterday and slipped it into the vertical slot on the front of the TARDIS. A slow turn to the left but nothing happened. Expected response but he thought he should at least try.

"Not yet, hmm?" One hand patted the TARDIS. "Right. Now I need to figure out how to do this. Damn Delta E! This is going to be a lot harder without him. I need to press the release switch on Meirion's control station as I turn this key. Blasted controlling Preceptor."

He stared over to the Preceptor's station, his eyes narrowing as he gauged the distance. At least twelve feet away. Too far to reach and he could not move either TARDIS or station. So? So another solution needed.

"I could make a robotic assistant. Enough scrips and scraps around here."

His eyes flicked over the shelves and shelves of equipment and component bits. On one shelf, blocks of bartullan circuitry, rolls of wire, smaller squares of detronium, moulded switches and zontan relays. All the makings of an elementary dematerialization unit, for students' study and their lab practicum.

"Hmm. Hmm. Well." He wandered over and picked up a circuitry block. "No." Another. "No. "A third. Hefting it he nodded. "Ah. Yes. Perfect."

Setting the block on the nearest worktable, he sorted through the detronium squares until he found one he liked. Grabbing both items, he carried them to Meirion's station. A few minutes to position the circuitry block on its narrow edge, pushing it back and forth. Then a quick tap so that it fell over, his hand catching it before it hit the station top. A final adjustment and last test.

"Yes! Now we will see. Oh, yes. Who needs some wimpy, slack-kneed, toadying fool as an assistant!"

Humming tunelessly, he trotted back to his TARDIS, the detronium firmly in his hand. Other hand on the key in the TARDIS lock, he peered back through the shadows to the Preceptor's station, tilting his head from side to side, checking angle.

"Right!" With a prodigious sidearm throw, he heaved the detronium square toward Meirion's control station. It struck the circuitry block dead centre and toppled the block backwards, down onto the release switch. As the block crashed down, he turned the key in the TARDIS. A soft click and the door to the TARDIS swung inward.

"One excellent mind is worth a thousand assistants! Ha!" He ran a hand up and down the front of the TARDIS. "Now they'll see, won't they? Off I go!"

As he surged forward, a large rough hand clamped down on his shoulder. Startled, he tried to jerk away but the hand held him, pulled him out of the doorway and pushed him back against the nearest wall.

"Where would you be going, young catechumen?"

A tall, burly Proctorate guard, jacket in muted red and amber, glared down at him in that way everyone who wanted to prevent him doing something had glared at him.

"Ah. Well. Pursuing an experiment." He worked hard at getting his breathing back to its normal rate.

"By whose authority are you here without your Preceptor about?"

He projected as much arrogance as he had seen in the members of the Prydonian Chapter when dealing with underlings. "I don't need any of the Preceptors. I know what I am doing."

"Mmm hmm." The guard dragged him over to the Preceptor's station. "Then why was this necessary?" One big hand lifted the circuitry block up.

The release switch underneath was badly cracked.

"Some newly instituted approach to student use of TARDISes?" The tone was all dry scepticism. He put down the block and raised one finger. "That is damage to Academy property."

A second finger. "Illegal entry and trespass to Academy facilities."

A third digit joined the other two. "Unauthorized entry to a TARDIS. And if I had not come along, operating a TARDIS without a permit. Under age too, I'd warrant." The guard studied his face. "How old are you, catechumen?"

He frowned at the guard and kept his mouth shut. He was a Prydonian, not some scruffy undercity felon. He was not answerable. Not to this fellow.

A slight shake of his captive but still no reply. "Underage, definitely. Quite a collection of offences. Let's go."

"As a student of the Prydonian Academy, I am due some latitude." He tried his best commanding voice, the one he had heard his uncles use on the servants when he was a child. When there was no change, the realization that the guard was not as impressed as he should have been. He added, "Wait! Don't you see..."

The implacable face stared at him. "See what?"

"I am supposed to be completing an experiment, you know. That's why I am here."

"At this hour?"

"Well, I was too...occupied earlier. I have to get this done. The Exam is coming up next week." As he said it, a panicky thought that the guard would know it was not true.

A frown, a thought and a shake of the head. "No. Just too many offences."

Reluctantly, "I'll ...I'll fix the release switch."

Another frown and the guard let go of his shoulder.

A satisfied exhalation, thinking he had won. "Good," and he started away toward the door.

"Hold it! Stand right there and don't move." Fixing his captive with a baleful glare, the guard pulled a small communications device from a pouch at his side and tapped on its buttons. A few beeps later, "Excuse me, sir. Academy Proctorate Madon here. I'm in the time lab. Got a student here. Name?" With a finger pointing at him, "You. Your name." The communications device was extended toward him.

"Theta Sigma." A sulky tone to his voice.

"Hear that, sir? Yes. He was ... yes, sir, I can send a report of the offences to you. Yes, sir. I was going to take him in now. Yes? Oh. I see. Yes. All right, sir. Sorry to have disturbed you." The guard tapped one button and slid the device back into the pouch.

His hearts were pounding and he had the almost irresistible desire to break and run. He stifled it, not willing to show fear.

The guard turned to him with a dark glare. "Leave the lab now. See your Preceptor at 3 TP and explain it all to him. No...leave all that mess there. The key, hand it over!"

"It's still in the TARDIS lock."

The guard moved to see for himself. "Good. Leave it there but better close the door." The guard reached in and pulled the door shut with a soft snap.

He stood staring at the TARDIS, a soft sigh escaping his lips. So close.

One big hand firmly pressed on his back started him toward the lab exit. "Go back to your quarters immediately and report to your Preceptor as ordered. I will be keeping an eye on the lab for the rest of the night. And there will be a record of this incident forwarded to your Academy file."

'Perfect,' he thought. 'These petrified idiots keep trying to prevent me learning what I need to know. Doing what I need to do.' He swore under his breath and stamped out into the corridor. As he rounded the corner, in the direction of the cloisters, he darted into the shadowed space between two columns. After five minutes he peered back around the corner. The guard stood, staring back at him, one finger pointing the way to his quarters.

"Kratz." He stalked away down the cloisters.

***

Late in the morning, he sauntered into the lab, the last to arrive. Preceptor Meirion stood near his control station with two students. Tall, spare, face pale and lined, a Time Lord in the latter stages of his ninth regeneration, the old man listened to one of the students expounding some theory. The long head nodded in response to whatever was being said but the cool eyes flicked to his recalcitrant student where he stood just inside the doorway. A bony hand raised between the students, ending their discussion and sending them to their worktables. Other students became quiet and focused on the Preceptor.

"Finish your testing of the beldone relay and start on the temporal capacitor." Voice harsh, "Theta Sigma, come here."

He had reached his workplace at the back of the room and dropped his satchel down just as the Preceptor called him back. Everyone in the room turned to stare at him, faces pinched in disapproval. As usual. All but Delta E whose head was bent over his table, hands busy with the relay. On his way to the front of the room, Theta paused and tried to catch the young man's eyes to express his disgust at the student's cowardly actions the night before but the eyes remained focused on the relay.

The Preceptor tapped one fingernail on his station top, drawing Theta's attention. The old face was frowning, lips compressed tightly, the sign that Meirion was irritated. Swinging around, Meirion strode quickly to the office behind the station. It was separated from the rest of the lab with crystalline walls so that the Preceptor could oversee activities in the lab.

He followed the Preceptor but at the entry, he paused and stared, rather defiantly he thought, at Meirion. The Preceptor watched him for a moment before commenting, "Don't stand there half in or out like a frightened child. Or are you a frightened child? You acted like a child last night."

The goad was enough to bring him in to stand in the middle of Meirion's office.

"Explain to me why I received a call from the Proctorate last night."

His desire to reply cheekily 'because the guard called you' was thwarted by another question. "Where were you at 3TP? You were told to report to me at that time." Meirion crossed his arms over his chest and flexed bony fingers on his crossed arm, staring cold-eyed.

Theta took a breath. "Working on the project and forgot the time." A lie.

A dissatisfied "Hmmpt. Not a very reassuring answer from someone studying time mechanics, is it? Not the answer of someone who should be given access to a TARDIS."

A chill down the spine. "What?"

"I can recommend that you not be allowed to undergo the Final Test. Point out that you have not achieved the full range of required knowledge." Meirion canted his head to one side. "Then there is the question of physiological maturity. I have wondered if with your ... mixed origins you would actually have the necessary nuclei in your cerebellum minor. Have you been examined yet to establish your temporal maturity?"

"I ... they said I had ..." He was filled with anger and if he was entirely honest, embarrassment at this reference to his extraordinary procreation.

"Come, come. Have you been tested or not? Are you incapable of answering a straightforward question?"

He drew himself up and glared at the Preceptor. "No. Testing has not been scheduled. Not until I finish this course."

A slow smile on the Preceptor's face. "Yes, of course. I had forgotten. You are on probation, aren't you? Restricted from any further step in the process toward the Final Test until you prove you have successfully completed the prior step. Well then, all I have to do is not agree that you have successfully completed this course. And you haven't demonstrated that to me. "

He froze, unbelieving. "But ... I am completing all the assignments. On time. As prescribed."

"There is more than completing assignments. You have to demonstrate a depth of knowledge, an understanding of the concepts."

"How can you say that I haven't?! I have explained half the principles of time mechanics to ... to other students. Even helping some of them with their experiments."

"Oh who would that be?"

He had spoken too openly. To answer would be to ruin Delta E's future. Pride in his personal standards would not let him do that, even after the other student's cowardly breaking of their agreement. Desperately, he sought a way to shift the focus. "All of these fools out there ..." pointing out to the students working diligently on their projects, "acknowledge how much I know. They try to pretend I am not there until ... until they have a problem. They dare not reveal their ignorance to you. It's me they come to. Me! Not you!"

Meirion responded in kind. "That may be as it is but you are unreliable. Why come to the lab so late at night, when I was not here? Not to do some assignment. No! What do you think I am? I know what you were doing last night. Trying to break into a TARDIS. What mad plan did you have? Attempting an unsupervised entry into the Vortex? Like that dark-haired malcontent, Omicron Tau, you used to spend time with. The one who stole ..." Meirion's voice slipped into a derisive tone, "but he had at least passed the Final Test. Can't do the same as he without the Final Test, can you?"

So they did know about Omicron Tau. He did not trust himself to speak, holding onto his fury with all his energy. It seared through his blood like fire.

"You see? You see why I know you should not be granted the privileges of the Final Test? With every act, you reveal your lack of responsibility and maturity." Meirion's head shook. "Not ready. Never will be ready."

Meirion seemed to forget for a moment that his student was there. Turning away the Preceptor continued speaking as if to himself. "I told them. I told them this one should not be admitted to the Academy. Incredible to me they let him graduate. But now they will see. Yes, further errors will be avoided. My report will make sure he is never allowed to operate a TARDIS."

His hearts nearly stopped in his chest. Proof positive that he was going to be blocked from the Final Test. The mysterious ceremony that all Time Lords and Ladies had to go through in order to operate a TARDIS. He did not know what it involved; they kept that a secret. But he would ...

A sharp voice broke him from his reverie. "Why are you wasting my time? Go back to your worktable." Meirion advanced on him. "Out!"

He retreated and strode across the room to get his satchel from his worktable. The whole place disgusted him, especially those idiots scrabbling away at their projects like little rodents. He glared at them, contemptuous of their lack of independence. Where was their pride of person? Did they not see they were being turned into ossified old men and women at the very threshold of their greatest potential? No, they did not see nor would ever. Best just to leave them here.

Leave them? At that moment, he saw how to thwart Meirion's plan to keep him from what he wanted. In the middle of the lab, his face suddenly lit up with a broad smile. He knew what he would do. He did not care if they denied him the opportunity to take the Final Test. It would not matter. A booming laugh and all eyes in the lab were on him. He couldn't help smirking at them. Something special for Meirion: he stuck out his tongue. A childish move and hardly Gallifreyan but he did not care. Another laugh burst out of his mouth when the Preceptor reddened and turned his back. With a yip, Theta raced from the lab.

Using the terminal in his quarters, he searched the library of the Academy but all he found were references to the Test without much detail of what was involved. That might be puzzling if not for some of disturbing conjectures. It had occurred to him in recent months that his library access via his terminal was limited either because he was a student or because he was who he was. Whichever, it did not matter. Full access was not available here in his quarters.

That night, he stole into time lab again, this time making sure the guard was at the other end of the Academy complex and the door to the lab was locked behind him. Using Meirion' terminal, he found some additional information. That the initial part of the ceremony involved the Chief Medicant and the activation of certain neurological elements but nothing more detailed in that area. The other aspect of the ceremony, what he could glean in a quick read, seemed to involve operating the TARDIS in a particular way, not making a journey anywhere but aligning certain circuits. Odd that. He copied the information onto a data cube and left the lab without encountering the Proctorate guards.

In his quarters, he poured over the information. Copious detail on the intricate components of any Academy ceremony. Could they not do anything without all this nonsense? Absurd ritualized liturgy and endless mummery! His own Degree Primus graduation had been bad enough but this! With a 'pufft,' he concentrated on distilling the important part of the Test. It took a while sorting through the ornate language but the essence became clear: first the medical process applied to the candidate and then the candidate running through a series of TARDIS circuit alignments. The rest was just ridiculous trappings to give the Preceptors of the Academy something to do at the ceremony.

Though he had only a vague sense of what the medical procedure might involve, the idea of it still chilled him to his hearts. His encounters with medicants had been limited to a few occasions as a child and were so disturbing as to leave him intensely unnerved in their company. This aspect of the Final Test was not one he was going to enjoy even researching much less undergoing.

For now, he focused on the TARDIS alignments, running through the actual steps again and again, trying to see some purpose to it. As far as he could determine, the alignments would do nothing at all. Another empty show for the Academy members? Likely. He made a careful record of the exact steps on a separate cube. After marking that cube and the one containing the information taken from the Preceptor's terminal with almost invisible dots of colour, he hid both in a collection of old data cubes.

As he straightened up from replacing the container of cubes in the lower drawer of his desk, a sharp 'SPRANNGGG' had him jumping backwards off his stool. Eyes wide, he stared around, only calming when he realized it was just the alert system noting that his classes would be starting in a short while. He laughed at his own nervousness. Working all night shouldn't affect him this much.

A day of classes, primarily bored but occasionally filled with a desire to chortle, a desire not always successfully repressed. There were some strange stares from fellow students and a glare from Meirion but he did not care. Soon he would leave all of them behind. Who cared that they had treated him as an outcast in his own society? Who needed them? He would soon be blissfully alone in the vastness of space and time.

Somewhat impatiently, he waited for early evening to visit the Medicant Centre. He had decided to go there near the end of standard operating hours. Since he was not familiar with the layout or operation of the place, he needed to explore the facility to determine where he might access the information on the neurological activation. That would be easier to do if there were some non-staff people about so that his presence would not stand out. Just another citizen seeking the aid of the medicants. The Centre was on the other side of the Capitol from the Prydonian Academy and he wanted to avoid the direct route near the Panopticon. To arrive on time, he started as soon as possible, once most students returned to their quarters after late classes.

When he arrived, the facility was still quite busy with the comings and goings of staff in pale blue robes; among them, patients from all parts of Time Lord society. No one challenged a young Academy student as he wandered through the hallways. All were intent on their own concerns. It took him an hour of surreptitious searching but at last he found a room entitled 'neurological unit -- testing.' A likely location for what he sought.

When he was nearly to the door, two men came out of the room and Theta continued down the hallway as if heading to another location. At the next doorway, he glanced back. The technician, identified by his short blue surcoat, spoke to the other. "I will take you to the next centre, my Lord, but I must return to my duties shortly." The technician led an elderly Time Lord in old-fashioned stiff-collared robes down the hall.

When they were out of sight, Theta slipped into the neurology unit and immediately spied the terminal winking its ready status on a desk at the back of the room. It was as if they had accepted he would succeed so they gave in and arranged easy access. In a second he had entered 'Final Test' in the search perimeters. The whirring of the search went on a bit long for his taste; his fingers began a rapid tapping.

"Come on, come on, come on!"

A click and there it was, the entire directory all nicely subsectioned by topic. He scanned the list of files and tried to decide which one to read first.

"Too many, too many, which one?" A subtitle caught his eye. 'Symbiotic Nuclei: testing and activation.' When he opened the file, he realized how lengthy it was. The technician would be back before long. Best to download everything and read the files in the privacy of his quarters. But, when he reached into his pocket for a data cube, he realized he had forgotten to bring one and cursed. There weren't even any lying around on the terminal station.

"Too damn bloody tidy!"

His fist slammed down on the station, rocking it slightly. Then something chinked and rattled on its way to the floor. A crystalline tone. He shoved the chair back and peered under the station.

"Great Rassilon's Toes! A data cube." A second to snatch it up and shove it into the port on the front of the terminal. A few commands typed in with speed and the cube began to glow as it received the data transmission.

Glancing over his shoulder at the door, "Hurry up, faster, faster!" Worried that he would have no warning of the technician's return, he patted the side of the terminal as if that would encourage it to copy files more quickly.

Three files to go. Three, two. Two, two, one. Done! He rapped the exit commands and got the terminal back to its initial setting. Behind him, the door slid open with an off-key tone. Theta whirled around and leapt up to see the technician. "Ah, there was no one here," he blurted.

"Excuse me, sir for not being here to serve you. What service?"

"Symbiotic nuclei testing?" The words were impulsively spoken.

"I was not expecting to test anyone today."

Seizing the opportunity, "I am here."

"Yes, of course. Just let me ... ah, excuse me." The technician moved toward the terminal.

His hearts thudded wildly: the data cube was still in the port! With a coolness that surprized him, his left hand snaked behind his back and snatched the cube, hiding it in his fist. He stepped to the side to give the technician access and as he rotated away, slipped the cube into a pocket of his over robe.

As the technician sat at the terminal, "Authorization code, sir?"

Kratz! So close. That really annoyed him and it showed in his voice. "I don't have it!" Then an idea. "Why do I have to have it? Don't you have it? They said they sent it." He was getting better at this.

The technician stiffened and turned to the terminal. A quick scan of a file. "No, all the authorizations on file have been dealt with."

A lip-twitching frown. "That is unbelievably inefficient! I have come all the way from the Academy, interrupting critical research, to attend this testing and you have no authorization on file. What has happened to service standards, tell me that!? Who do I report this to?"

A pang of regret as the technician's face paled. To be reported to certain Capitol authorities was to be subjected to some nasty interrogation. "No need for that, sir. I am sure it is just some minor system malfunction. Only a short delay before the authorization arrives."

In his intense desire to succeed, Theta shoved his regret aside and forged onward. "And in the meantime I must wait? Or come back another time?"

"No sir, I will process you immediately. You are here and no one else is scheduled. Please, this way." The technician gestured to the left doorway on the far side of the room.

He had to suppress the grin that threatened to spread over his face. This was working out wonderfully. Let them deny him the Final Test! He would do it all himself. Who cared if they eventually found out? What could they do then? Nothing! He swaggered somewhat arrogantly as he followed the technician.

"If you would remove your over-robe, sir ... a hook there to put it on ... and stand here between the modules."

He slipped off the over-robe carefully so that he did not dislodge the data cube. But when he turned around, he hesitated slightly as he looked at the modules. Neural Optimizing Scanner said the sign. Sounded so benign. Didn't look benign.

Two large circular units hung from the ceiling with what appeared to be the operational sides facing each other. Metallic black, the units had four crystalline projections, each the size of his fist. As he stared at them, the projections began to glow a rich purple. The technician pulled the modules away from one another to make room for him to stand between them.

"If you would position yourself facing me, feet on the marks on the floor."

There were two foot-sized circles below the modules. He stood on the circles.

"Please stand still as I align the Scanner. "A few adjustments until the crystalline projections touched him at temple, aural bone, base of skull and lateral pulse point on each side of his head. He could feel warmth flowing from the projections.

"Now, don't move until I advise you, sir. Relax. This will take a moment or two." The technician then disappeared behind an insulated screen.

An increasing vibration and a ramping-up whine, the technician raising his voice to be heard. "The vibration will increase, sir and may be slightly uncomfortable. Resist the temptation to move."

As is usual with technicians, this one had understated the discomfort. The sensation was like insects invading in his skull. Angry insects. Then the insects had lasers and were using them to cut a path out of his skull in several places. He clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. Just as he was ready to scream, it all stopped.

"That's it, sir. I just need to run the results through the analyzer."

Theta shoved the modules away and staggered forward, hands to his head. The pain was diminishing but he was left dizzy and a bit disoriented. The sensations startled him, unused as he was to feeling unwell.

The technician reappeared. "Analysis underway, sir. Oh. What has happened?"

Mumbling, "Insects with lasers!"

"Excuse me, sir?"

Irritated from feeling ill, "Never mind. The results?"

"They will be sent to the authorizing official."

The dizziness was passing and he was feeling more himself. Time to focus on obtaining what he had to know. "Yes, yes but can't you tell me? Since there was such mismanagement over this?"

The technician's eyes blinked twice before he nodded. "No harm I suppose. You would normally be told the results by your Academy Advisor." He disappeared behind the screen and his client followed him. The results were scrolling down the terminal screen. "Umm. Well. That is interesting."

"Yes? What is it?" His voice was harsh as he tried to control the icy fear that ran through him at the technician's comments. "Is there something wrong?"

"No, not wrong exactly. The symbiotic nuclei are there, matured sufficiently for activation." The technician frowned at the screen and stopped speaking.

"Then what ...?"

"The nuclei are ... uniquely positioned. Attached to the oblong delegotta as expected but much higher than normal. And there are extra conduit filaments, about a quarter more than is usual."

"Why would that be a problem?"

"I did not say a problem, sir but truly, I am not sure what the effect of the extra filaments would be." He shook his head. "Might result in an accentuated reaction to the activation stimulation."

"Accentuated?" His voice wavered slightly.

"When the module is set at the activation level. Two above the scan level. Your response to the scan would suggest a unique sensitivity to neurological stimulation of the type applied during activation."

He felt his whole body tensing. This wasn't going to so easy.

"But then, being aware of that possibility, we can adjust the stimulation to limit the impact. Some trial tests could be conducted before the Final Test. Though, that is something that would have to be authorized by both your Academy and the Chief Medicant. I will include that in my report of these results." The technician's tone was soft, apparently trying to be reassuring but failing.

"Well, what would the modified settings be? Can you show me? On the module control panel? To get a sense of the possible intensity I might be facing."

"Seeing the settings would not help, sir. Not give you the sense of the actual intensity. Only testing would do that. Don't be concerned. These results and the recommendation for adjustment testing will go to your Academy immediately the authorization for today's testing is received."

There was nothing more to be gained here. He had hoped the technician might be tricked into showing him how to reset the equipment but he realized that would not happen. "Very well." He lifted his over-robe from the hook, one hand sliding the data cube from the pocket and grasping it tightly as he slipped the robe on. He needed now to get to his quarters as quickly as possible and review the information on the cube.

"Good day, sir."

A rather distracted "Yes, good day," before he hurried away.

Hours later, after carefully going through the material he had obtained at the Medicant Centre, he thanked his luck that the description of the activation process itself was written as a technical manual. The remainder of the files covering the functioning of the nuclei and their relationship to the operation of a TARDIS, were a labyrinthine treatise in ornate and ancient style, obviously prepared by reactionary philosophists who kept Gallifreyan society so suffocatingly static. He quickly abandoned these parts to concentrate on the activation process.

To accomplish the activation would require him to make a secret after-hours visit to the Medicant facility. That would not be a problem. He was getting quite good at clandestine operations. Even enjoyed the adrenaline spike the danger of his illicit activities produced. Almost addicting, if he understood what that meant. Following the regular routine of Time Lord society had held no appeal for quite a while. Now, having tasted the spice of adventure, he was desperate to get away from stifling, rigid Gallifrey. Whatever he had to do to accomplish that, he was prepared to do. If it was entertaining too, all the better.

It would simplify matters if he wore the robes of a medicant, just in case he encountered a night watch. The replicator in his quarters was easily programmed to deliver exactly what he needed. The next night he made the journey again across the Capitol and arrived at the Medicant Centre near closing time. Into an empty room and he was quickly attired as a lower-level medicant. No one paid any attention to him as he moved quickly to the hallway outside the neurological testing unit. He found a quiet corner where he could watch the doorway. When he saw the technician leave with a small satchel over his shoulder, he judged the man was departing for the day. As a precaution, he waited a few moments and then using the residual heat transceiver brought for the purpose, Theta quickly entered the door code the man had used.

A quick glide and the door opened. In and into the scanner control room. Set the controls after a quick consultation of his notes. Stand between the modules, adjusting them to the right position. Back to the control panel to turn the machine on and a dash back between the modules.

The build-up was quicker than last time but the effects were of a different type. Rather than the laser-carrying insects, there were cold fingers touching his mind. Cold fingers sliding around in his mind, pushing and prodding. Icy cold fingers with sharp fingernails digging into sensitive corners of his mind.

Without warning, the pain slammed off the scale and he thought he heard himself scream. Not sure, since all his senses were shrieking and real sound could be separated from neural sound. He did feel his back arch and his hands reach up to grasp the modules but he could not focus well enough to order his hands to push the modules away.

The screaming continued until everything was black. The machine's infernal humming never stopped.

A coolness underneath his cheek. An ache from the crown of his head all the way down to his mid chest. A hand numb where it was bent beneath him. The rest of him apparently normal. The assessment complete, he opened his eyes. The light hurt and Theta closed his eyes again until he admitted he had to open them if he wanted to determine where he was. Opened them again and squinted against the light. A cautious movement of his head to scan the area.

He recognized it, despite the odd angle. The neurological unit of the Medicant Centre. He had come last night...what time was that?...to activate his symbiotic nuclei. Remembered the pain that had shredded his nerves. Hoped he had activated those nuclei properly, not wanting to go through that again.

He was going to have to get up and test whether the procedure had been successful or not. With a groan and using his un-numb hand, he pushed himself to a sitting position and sat for a moment to let the wave of dizziness pass. Then up onto his knees and to his feet. A stagger and a grab at a table set against the wall. A deep breath and into the control room. Using the terminal he checked the time. Still several hours before the regular operating day began. Time enough to do one more test.

He found his reference file and the procedure he needed. When he swung round to the control panel, the movement made him nauseated. A couple of slow breaths and a mental focusing to ignore the sensation. Then on with the procedure. It took only a few moments to set up the test routine.

He did find it hard to position himself between the modules again and he winced involuntarily when the vibration started. The scan, thank Rassilon, lasted only 10 seconds. When he checked the monitoring panel, the breath flowed out of him in relief. 'Fully activated symbiotic nuclei. Operating at 3 points above normal.'

"Well, that is to be expected. I always operate above normal."

He shut down the systems and turned off the terminal. A quick glance around: no evidence that would reveal his use of the equipment. He slipped out of the door and relocked it. He had already selected where he would hide until the Centre opened: a small room, probably used for patients waiting for treatment. Happily, it had a source of water and a place to sit or lay. Though he felt the need of a good rest, he avoided stretching out. Too much danger of falling asleep and being found. After splashing water over his face and taking a long, cool drink, he sagged down onto a padded bench. To keep himself awake, he thought over the sequence of system checks on a TARDIS and evaluated whether each one was necessary.

Theta found the next day very long. That the effects of nuclei activation were still disrupting his senses and concentration even hours later amazed him. Nothing had ever affected him for that long before. His only class involved work he could do in his sleep. Which he nearly did do twice during the three hours of the class. He had considered not attending the class but he would not give them the satisfaction of believing they had frightened him off. He spoke to no one and left quickly once the class ended.

When he reached his quarters, he collapsed onto the bed and slept until well after the end of the day. A quick meal and he prepared to go to the time lab one last time. This time he would not be coming back. It surprized him that in considering what to take with him, the list was very short. It all fit in one small satchel. He felt no regret at leaving his quarters at the Academy. He refused to admit any regret at leaving Gallifrey. Since that departure would be unauthorized ... a laugh ...probably a crime... he would not be able to return. Not easily, at any rate.

Was there anything he would miss? Yes. The mountains in the south where he had escaped the stuffiness of the Capitol from time to time. His collection of ancient musical instruments and the cubes with some of his favourite music and off-world stories stored in his bedroom at the family estate. But beyond that, nothing. No one. Ah, perhaps ... he closed his thoughts off refusing to dwell on what could not be helped.

With a shake of his head, he looked around the room to see what else needed to be done. It took only a few minutes to erase all the data cubes he was not taking with him. Everything else was Academy issue and he ignored it. He shrugged the satchel over his shoulder and left the room. Without locking the door. No reason to. Let them paw over what was left.

Having perfected his break and enter technique, nothing interfered with his passage to and into the lab. Meirion's station was easy to open and he pulled out the TARDIS key with a smile, closing his eyes for a moment in satisfaction.

"Now. Now we will be off."

He set up the circuitry block again and detronium square in hand, moved over to the last TARDIS in line. His TARDIS. Slid the key in the lock. Cast the square at the block. Pushed open the door and darted in. Hearts pounding, he ran to the console and pulled the door-lock. A satisfying noise of the door closing and locking.

Then he stopped to breathe and look around. A large central console in white and muted silver. Walls white and decorated in large roundels. The air was cool with a little breeze but he could not define the direction. Somehow there was a sense of calm under the excitement that flooded him.

"Well. Here I am. Ready for the Final Test. Why thank you, I don't mind starting now. Yes, indeed, all prepared." A funny jingly nervousness running up and down his spine. "Now. Where is that list?" Dropping his satchel to the floor, he dug into the pocket of his Academic gown.

He pressed a data cube into the console reader and opened up the list of alignment programs he needed to run. "Easy. Too easy. What kind of test is this?"

It took him a moment to identify the correct panel on which to run the first program but only a moment. His long fingers tapped away, entering the initial codes. A click of the last button and the console began to hum. On to the next one and then the next, each time the sounds of the console altering. It was odd but he was feeling a sort of warmth in his body, growing with each program run.

"Just excitement, just excitement." He shrugged off his over-robe and tossed it into the corner of the room.

When he started the third from the last program, there was a qualitative change in the console's tone. His own reaction was spectacularly different. For a long ten count he could have sworn he heard a voice...not through his ears but right in the centre of his mind. Not a Gallifreyan voice. Not a corporal voice. But then, just as he began to narrow down how to categorize it, the voice disappeared.

The whole incident was disturbing. He was certain that whatever was happening, the circuit alignments he was making could not be the cause. How could they affect his mind? It made no sense. Was he going mad? Was his extreme reaction to the activation of his symbiotic nuclei an indication that his mind had been damaged by that activation? The analysis of the results had not detected any abnormalities or damage. Just nuclei operating above the normal range. This was so strange.

Should he continue? But if he did not continue, he would not be able to operate the TARDIS and the wrinkled gnomes of the Academy would win. No. Never.

His fingers were trembling when he entered the second last program. The start code in and the voice was back, louder though not loud. Whatever message the voice contained, nothing he heard was intelligible to him. But he knew it was a voice, not just noise. A voice trying to reach him.

This time, the voice did not go away. His whole body was trembling now and his breath was catching in his throat. A faintness stole over him. As his knees started to give way, he leaned forward on the console, bracing himself. Balanced there, he saw his face in the mirrored surface of the console. Pale, eyes wide, mouth open as he gasped for breath. Who was that person? Not him. Never in his 40 years of life had he ever felt fear like that which gripped his vitals now. On the edge of terror.

A small beep on the console drew his eyes to the cube readout. There was only one more program. He was so close to success.

"I will not let fear rule me!" His hands gripped the edge of the console to steady himself. With a jerk, he let go with one hand and entered the last alignment program. As he reached out to activate it, he straightened himself, stiff-spined and dared the universe to destroy him. A palm slammed down on the button.

'It is not a wise thing to dare the universe. Sometimes it responds.'

"Rassilon's Great Eyes! Who is there?"

'Yes.' Very calm and light.

He blinked. "I asked who is there?"

'Yes.' A kind of pleased tone.

"Answer me, who is there?!!"

' So you have named me, thus you have answered.' Again, pleased sounding.

"What kind of abstractionist nonsense is that?" This was getting irritating.

'Who is there.'

"Don't repeat my question back to me, you...you...whatever you are!"

'Who.'

"Rrggtttt!!!!" The sound of his wordless frustration reverberated around the console room. A pause during which he tried to get his emotions under control. Before he could speak again, the voice continued.

'Is your heart rate and respiration at the standard normal?'

"No they are not!"

'Then you should sit and defer further conversation until they are. Physical damage can occur to element-based life forms such as your own by prolonged stressing of these perimeters.'

"Sit!?! Where, on the floor?"

'Chair.' And a chair appeared beside him. 'Please repose.'

He was so surprized that he sat down. The chair was a design he vaguely recalled seeing in some record. Not Gallifreyan, certainly. High-backed and upholstered, with tightly curving arms. After a couple of calming breaths, he asked, "How are you communicating with me? Are you telepathic?"

'In your limited understanding, yes.'

Arrogant being! "Can I see you?"

'In a manner of speaking, you are already.' The lights on the console flickered and the walls altered colour and luster, returning to the matt white as the console lights settled down.

"You are the TARDIS!!!" He leapt to his feet and leaned onto the console, hands wide spread.

'If you like.'

"What do you want with me?"

'To be with you.'

"Be with me? How do you mean?"

'To connect with you and to share our beings.'

"In my mind? My body?" He did not like the idea of that. A half step away.

'In your spirit.'

"What do you mean? Spirit? I don't believe in deities and divinations."

'You do believe in the spirit. It is there in your mind, your soul.'

"Soul. There is another of those religious icons. Time Lords do not..."

'Is that all you are? More than a Time Lord, are you not?'

He rather liked the sound of that until he saw it too appealing to his ego. "Oh, no. You can not trick me that way!"

Something like a chuckle. 'You are yet a child. Yet to grow but the potential is there. But not here. Not in this place. You have realized that, have you not?'

That was true. "So, we go out into the universe. I was going to be on my own. Now, you will be there too." One hand returned to the slightly warm ledge around the central console.

'Ah, to be alone. Not a healthful thing, except for short periods. Growth does not happen in the dark. Not even for mushrooms.'

"I am no mushroom!"

'There, you have grown already.' The delight was infectious.

He suppressed a desire to snicker at the pleased tone of the voice. A question. "So, we will be together travelling. Why do you want to come with me? Why not go on your own? If you are the TARDIS."

The voice was a bit sad. 'Need the companion.'

"Companion? Me?" This was interesting, to be needed.

'Yes.'

"Why a companion?" Really curious now. He rested his hip against the console lip.

'Need the one who will operate the mechanism.'

"Only a helmsman." He was disappointed.

'No. More. To see through your eyes. To hear with your ears. To touch with your fingers. To wonder at with your mind.'

"A modem, then."

A soft sigh. 'No. Reciprocal.'

"What is the other half of the bargain then? What do I get?"

'Opportunity. To discover. To grow in the light.'

"Your light. With you."

'To an extent but more. In the light that is the universe and all its peoples. To learn of them and of yourself. To be more than a mushroom.'

A laugh burst out of him. Sobering, trying to be wary but failing. He had to admit he liked this voice. This TARDIS. Whatever their travelling was going to be, it would not be boring. Not with that voice challenging him. His hands ran over the nearest buttons lightly and curled around the lip edge of the readout screen.

"All right. It is a bargain." But there were questions. "Tell me, how did those alignment activities connect us?"

'Did not. ' At his stare, 'Provided the touching.'

"Touching?"

'Your hands on the console, to ease the institution of the connection.'

"Oh." He stared down at his own hands where they rested on the edge of the console. "Why not just instruct me to touch the console? Why the nonsensical ritual?"

'Ritual has its purpose. Occupied and relaxed a specific portion of your mind.'

"And completing a set of specified steps gave me an incentive to keep going in spite of the sounds in my head."

Surprize, 'So you did hear.'

"Yes. Doesn't everyone?"

'No. Not until the end.'

"Does everyone have a conversation like this one?"

'No. This connection is unique.'

"What do the others hear then?"

'As nearly as can be described in your language, no voice, just information.'

"Not a conversation at all?" He thought about that. "Unfortunate for them." That his connection was something no other Time Lord had extraordinarily pleased him. He smiled and rubbed his hands together. "Where to now?"

'Select. The universe waits for you.'

"I can pick anywhere, anytime I want? Really?" His voice was child-like in its pleasure.

'Yes. You only have to be curious and seek.'

He grinned broadly and let his fingers work the controls. No hesitation. No doubts. All the stresses of his life at the Academy, the tensions of the last week melted like ice before a fire. Disappeared so completely he wondered who was that frightened boy who tried to lord it over the Academy guard, the bully who terrified the technician, or the angry student who was contemptuous instead of pitying of his fellow students. He felt ...new. Free. Himself.

With a flourish of joy, he tapped the dematerialization button.

The central column rose and fell, making a dreadful din as they dematerialized. As the console shuddered and wobbled, a sudden thought.

"Why were you in the lab? Why were you decommissioned?"

'They said there were some faulty circuits.'

A panicked voice echoed down the Vortex.

"OH GREAT RASSILON'S MIGHTY NOSE! WHAT HAVE I GOTTEN MYSELF INTO!??"