Kinza [War Doctor/Ailla]

[Deleted]

“Her face,” she bit out, the words hoarse and jagged with pain. “Looming...over...me - as they held me...down.”

"They...held you down?" Of course. She must have struggled, been put into cryostasis. His lips thinned. "You'll not be seeing her face again. We two are amongst the few that will even be able to remember her. However, the CIA have chosen to awaken you. Or should I say, brought me here to do so. Kept us apart and kept truths hidden, as they do. And at their whim and discretion they want us to work together, for the betterment of Gallifrey. We're in a terrible war with the Daleks. They've got a plan for their undoing that require our skills." There was a sublime bitterness in his voice. He paused, unsure how to start again. The words finally worked themselves free but his tone had changed from bitter to a cracked, hollow sound, full of exhaustion and deep sadness. "I thought you were dead. Sentris told me that you were dead." Again, he stopped as if he wasn't sure which direction to let his thoughts take him. But there was realy only one thought that kept drifting to the surface. "There is more the CIA kept from us. You are my daughter. I did not know, then."

[Ailla]

"They...held you down?"

Ailla closed her eyes, trying to master her distress. “I...wanted to go back...to the Dark Heart. For Koschei.” Her voice was coming easier now, as her body slowly warmed, but the words were not. “She laughed at me...taunted me. I wanted...to kill her.”

His lips thinned. "You'll not be seeing her face again. We two are amongst the few that will even be able to remember her. However, the CIA have chosen to awaken you. Or should I say, brought me here to do so. Kept us apart and kept truths hidden, as they do. And at their whim and discretion they want us to work together, for the betterment of Gallifrey.”

A mission, of course. The realisation sat like a lump of stone in her stomach. Why else would the CIA set her free from her eternal punishment, except to use her again, like the tool she was? And as for the Doctor...it seemed that while she slept, they had finally caught up with him and bent him to their will after all, despite his timely sidestep of her attempt to arrest him on board the Piri Reis. It didn't surprise her. Once the CIA set their sights on someone, there was no escape. She supposed she should feel some bitterness against him for abandoning her to her fate. But her initial anger had long since dissipated and there was no blame left. If she'd seen a chance at freedom, the way he had, she knew she would have taken it too.

“What...mission?” she asked dully. She didn't really want to know. She wanted to turn her back on the Doctor, and for all this to just go away. However, the reanimation sequence within the cryo-pod was doing its work and she could feel her body steadily returning to life. Soon she would have no choice but to face up to whatever was left of her pitiful existence.

Without him...you are nothing...

Sentris's cold, clear voice rang inside her head and a renewed wave of grief for Koschei engulfed her, threatening to sweep her away. Her eyes flickered open again, focusing hard on the Doctor's face, her gaze clinging to his weathered features like an anchor in a storm.

“We're in a terrible war with the Daleks,” he answered her question. She could sense the emotional turmoil inside him as he looked at her, almost on a par with her own. But she could not isolate its source. The war he spoke of, perhaps...or was there something more? Something he had yet to tell her, involving the mission? “They've got a plan for their undoing that require our skills."

“Daleks...” she echoed numbly. Yes, she had heard of the Daleks, during her training, but had never encountered them. She couldn't imagine how any of her skills could be utilised against a race of cyborgs whose only recognisable emotion was hate. But she guessed she would soon find out.

Weakly, testing her strength, she clutched at the sides of the pod and struggled to sit up, then paused as he spoke again.

"I thought you were dead. Sentris told me that you were dead."

There was such sadness inside him, edged around with such bitter anger. As if Sentris had hurt him, taken from him, just as she had done to Ailla.

“Why should you care... if I were dead?” The question was filled with genuine bewilderment. She and the Doctor were barely acquainted, and they had hardly parted on the best of terms. His grief, his fury at Sentris, seemed entirely out of proportion with the circumstances, at least as far as she knew them.

"There is more the CIA kept from us. You are my daughter. I did not know, then."

“D-daughter...?” The colour drained from her face in a rush, leaving it bloodless and ashen. The shock was so great that her surroundings seemed to spin around her and she slumped back into the waiting cryo-pod, her body as limp as if all her bones were broken. “Th-that's not POSSIBLE!”

[Deleted]

“I...wanted to go back...to the Dark Heart. For Koschei.” Her voice was coming easier now, as her body slowly warmed, but the words were not. “She laughed at me...taunted me. I wanted...to kill her.”

For Koschei...the Master. There was a twisting feeling in his chest, like a knife turned inward on itself. "Her fate is far worse, in many respects. Yet, she is relieved from the burden of responsibility of her actions by forfeiting her existence."

“What...mission?” she asked dully.

He scowled. "I was brought here by 'emissaries of the High Council,'" he said, spitting the words out like orange pips. "They grabbed me right off the battlefield and brought my TARDIS here. They've charged us with recovering members of a species called the Gyns'abu, from the planet Trioebus. They mutated under stressful planetary conditions, becoming pure empaths. They have no written languages and communicate soley by that mechanism." He paused, allowing that to digest and to condense the long lecture he'd been given to salient points. When he spoke again, it was with heavy distaste. "The Time Lords managed to capture a small number of them to test, to see if the protein that had mutated and resulted in their ability could be used to induce empathy in others. In the end they succeeded in isolating it and eventually determined a possible mechanism for transference. The CIA planned to introduce this chemical which would then be integrated into the Dalek Pathweb, contaminating it with emotions of those they attempted to exterminate." He shook his head. "But the Daleks found out about the plan and destroyed the planet as well as time-locking it, thanks to a spy in the ranks. The only members left are refugees on the planet Sarn, under control of the Dalek Emperor. The CIA wish us to locate and bring back the Gyns'abu to Gallifrey, so they might -continue- their plan." It was obvious that he thought this plan was irredeemable and amoral. "They then instructed me to wake you, as you would be my partner, due to -your- unique gift."

“D-daughter...?” The colour drained from her face in a rush, leaving it bloodless and ashen. The shock was so great that her surroundings seemed to spin around her and she slumped back into the waiting cryo-pod, her body as limp as if all her bones were broken. “Th-that's not POSSIBLE!”

"It is, it was. A very long time ago, when I was in my very first life, the lady Emiliegunnar and I petitioned to have a child loomed. I did not know what became of you till so much later, that you even existed, until Sentris told me. For I had a daughter returned to me, you see. They kept your life hidden and much later, Sentris told me that you'd died. So, here we are again. They wish to turn the knife, as they have instructed me to tell you the truth that they could not, so that you might wish to work with me. As if it were so simple, as if we were only cogs." He looked down and away, face painted in shame and disappointment. "They will have their tractor on my TARDIS, there will be listening devises everywhere,  no doubt they hear every word now, until the mission is completed to their satisfaction." In a lower voice he added, "I have sworn to end this war. But to do so as they suggest...would we be any better than the Daleks?"

[Ailla]

Ailla listened intently to the Doctor's outline of their mission briefing, committing the details word for word to memory, out of pure habit. She was accustomed to being presented with an encoded chip containing the instructions of her superiors, which would need to be perused and memorised instantly, before it self-destructed in a very short period of time. Secrecy was always paramount to the CIA and they had no patience with delay.

The news that her empathic ability was key to this new mission did not surprise her. True empaths were extremely rare on Gallifrey, and she knew the CIA would not have awoken her unless they needed to make use of her talents. The information that she was biologically related to the Time Lord standing in front of her, on the other hand, was like a punch in the stomach.

She had grown up without any concept of what the word 'parent' meant. Trained as a soldier almost from the moment she could walk, she had never known anything other than the cold, harsh environment of the Facility, where competition was encouraged, affection was unknown, and devotion to Gallifrey was everything. She had been well into her teenage years before she ever discovered that not everyone was brought up the same way that she had been. Other children had parents who loved them and cared for them and were proud of them. And even though the younger generation of Gallifrey were taken from their parents into the Academy at the age of eight, they were still permitted visits from their families and were allowed to periodically return home to their Houses. Such things had never seemed anything more than fairy stories to the Elite children, who were taught that all emotional connections led to vulnerability and were therefore unacceptable.

As the Doctor explained how she had been stolen from the Loom and replaced with another child - a Loom-Twin who had gone on to live the life that should have been hers - a coldness settled around her heart. This too, like so many other things, the CIA had taken from her. The fragile remnants of her identity, the little that was left after Sentris had torn it to shreds, seemed to crumble into dust around her.

A small, cracked laugh escaped her lips. “They would have had me arrest my own father!” she murmured, her voice threaded with bitterness as she thought back to their final confrontation on board the Piri Reis. “Oh, how the irony of that would have amused Sentris!”

Her green eyes caught the Doctor's and held. “How long?” The question was dark and intense and filled with anger. “How long has it been since that sadistic old harridan imprisoned me here?”

[Deleted]

A small, cracked laugh escaped her lips. “They would have had me arrest my own father!” she murmured, her voice threaded with bitterness as she thought back to their final confrontation on board the Piri Reis. “Oh, how the irony of that would have amused Sentris!”

"Yes. I suppose it might have," he said sourly. He looked down at his interlaced fingers. Softly, he added, "Yet here we are." He didn't want to think back to those times. He had become a different man on Karn, and yet it seemed at every turn that decision was tested. No more so than now. How could he say to this woman that he was -not- her father? And yet, how could he say that he was, when he hardly knew her?

Her green eyes caught the Doctor's and held. “How long?” The question was dark and intense and filled with anger. “How long has it been since that sadistic old harridan imprisoned me here?”

He frowned, eyes troubled as she looked straight at him but he held her gaze nevertheless. So many years. And in a Time War, to boot..."I've regenerated seven times since we last saw one another. My last regeneration..." He stopped, frown deepening. "At my last regeneration, I was given a choise that most Time Lords are not given." He didn't want to say aloud what had transpired on Karn, not with the CIA gleaning all they could from even what felt like the most private of conversations. "I made a choice to endeavor to be a different man than that one, to be the warrior that this terrible War needs. This War has no use for a doctor...and I've earned many, many other names since you met me." He paused. "It has been a very long time that you have been kept here. Far too long. My TARDIS is here. When you have recovered enough to leave, you can make use of what facilities you require. Then we can speak more." 

[Ailla]

"I've regenerated seven times since we last saw one another.”

The answer was not specific – could not be specific, she guessed, if Gallifrey was in the middle of a large scale Time War. The temporal fluctuations inherent in such a conflict would create a huge amount of chronological uncertainty, even for the Time Lords. But his words were enough to confirm her worst fears. Seven lifetimes! She had slept for centuries at best...more than a millennia at worst.

Her mind struggled to comprehend what he was telling her. For her, less than a day had passed since she had seen him last. For him... oh, but for him... She looked into his weary, hooded eyes and felt an unexpected stab of compassion. While she had dreamed, time had laid its hand on him and it had not been kind.

“My last regeneration..." He stopped, frown deepening. "At my last regeneration, I was given a choise that most Time Lords are not given...I made a choice to endeavor to be a different man than that one, to be the warrior that this terrible War needs. This War has no use for a doctor...and I've earned many, many other names since you met me."

His voice was as bleak as the tundra she had trudged across in her mindscape, flayed by grief and loss. The voice of a man still fighting a war that had long ago claimed him as a casualty.

“Today, it seems you have earned one more, at least from my perspective,” she said quietly. “... Father.”

She had no doubt that it was true. Every part of his empathic field resonated veracity. Assuming the CIA had not lied to him, he was indeed her paternal Loom Donor.

He paused. "It has been a very long time that you have been kept here. Far too long. My TARDIS is here. When you have recovered enough to leave, you can make use of what facilities you require. Then we can speak more."

Cautiously, she managed to sit fully upright, flexing her limbs in an experimental fashion. “My strength is quickly returning. As you might recall, when I was frozen, I was still within the first fifteen hours after my regeneration. My artron energy levels are still exceedingly high, so my healing will be rapid.” She put her hand out to him. “If you will assist me to climb out of this pod, I should hopefully be able to make my way to your TARDIS without too much difficulty.”

[Deleted]

“Today, it seems you have earned one more, at least from my perspective,” she said quietly. “... Father.”

He felt a sense of conflict. It was as if he couldn't own that title either for he hadn't raised her, hadn't done anything but contribute genetics. He wanted to earn that title but meeting during the War meant only danger, the likelihood that he could lose her during the mission. There was a reason he travelled alone, during wartime. But here she was. Here they were. And for all that could be regretted, there was more in the meeting than that which the CIA could have foreseen or concocted. He gave a nod, a small smile. He could not dare to hope or dream until the War was over. For now, these moments of joy were always surrounded by a darkness. But they were all the more poignant for it.

"Today I have been given a chance, that's more than I would have expected. Especially now."

Cautiously, she managed to sit fully upright, flexing her limbs in an experimental fashion. “My strength is quickly returning. As you might recall, when I was frozen, I was still within the first fifteen hours after my regeneration. My artron energy levels are still exceedingly high, so my healing will be rapid.” She put her hand out to him. “If you will assist me to climb out of this pod, I should hopefully be able to make my way to your TARDIS without too much difficulty.”

He nodded. The truth was he needed a moment to recover, himself. But as he was not often afforded such opportunities, he was used to relegating shock to the background and focusing on the awe of the moment. He took her hand, helping her out of the cryostasis pod. Giving it a measured look, he wondered if the CIA would want to put her -back inside- after her work was done and resolved never to let that happen.

He walked them slowly back the way he came to his TARDIS. The battered blue telephone box had seen better days. Recently she'd been in a battle and her scars were still healing. Burnt rents, pockmarks and discolourations marred the surface. Close examination would show that the capsule was intact, that this damage was healing even as they drew closer to it. He opened the doors, the bright interior welcoming to him. The lighting brightened as they stepped in and the deckplates vibrated warmly under his booted feet, the ever-present hum slowly enveloping as the doors shut behind them. He turned to look at Ailla with raised eyebrows.

He leaned over towards her and mouthed, "Tracking and listening devises. Recall overridden, possibly by a Tucker-Jackson energy weapon." He turned aside then, as if he were merely offering her some consolation or other, waiting to see how long lasting the effects her frozen incarceration truly were.

[Ailla]

Ailla could tell that the startling news of their biological relationship had been harder on him than it had been on her. After all, she had grown up knowing that, somewhere out there, she had to have a father. A man who contributed his DNA to the Loom to bring her into existence. A man who, for whatever reason, she believed had handed her over to the CIA to raise, rather than taking her for his own. Her predominant shock had centred around the fact that her father had turned out to be Koschei's old friend, the man she had met on the planet of the Dark Heart, the man she had tried so hard to arrest.

The Doctor, however, had never known that he had another daughter, one that the CIA had stolen from him and so expertly hidden. The impact of that – the sheer, incredulous betrayal – had to be staggering on so many levels.

"Today I have been given a chance, that's more than I would have expected. Especially now."

Especially now. Ailla supposed he meant because they had both been pressed into service, in an attempt to end the terrible War he had told her about. First hand, she had experienced nothing at all of the conflict, but it was easy to glean the apocalyptic horror of it from the bleakness of his empathic field as he had described it. And she recalled her own dreams as she lay cocooned in her cryostasis – the fire that had blazed across the sky, the death that had rained down on her people. Subconscious empathic feedback, she understood now. Even asleep, she'd been sensing the appalling devastation steadily spreading across the universe.

As he helped her from the pod that had imprisoned her for so long, she took the opportunity to study his weathered features, seeing every battle he had fought deeply engraved on his weary, careworn face.

First and foremost, Ailla was a soldier. Sentris had taken so much else from her, stripped her identity back to its barest bones. But the training she had been given from birth was too much a part of her. She had gone into her long sleep a soldier, and she had risen as one, ready to face whatever challenges were thrown at her, no matter from which direction they came. As she looked at him, it struck her as ironic that of all the regenerations her father had undergone in the past centuries, this was the one she could best relate to. The warrior. The one who would fight to the end, because there was no-one else to do it.

For a just one fleeting heartsbeat, she wanted to reach out her hand and touch his cheek, to somehow create a bridge between them, to acknowledge everything that could have been and was now lost. But then he slung her arm over his shoulder and began to walk with her towards his TARDIS, and the moment slipped away.

The sight of his ship almost shattered her composure. Still a tall, blue box, just as she remembered it. But so battered and damaged. Like him, his TARDIS had seen hard combat. Like him, she was no longer as proud and arrogant as she had once been. Ailla brushed her fingers down the side of the door as they entered. A warm psychic resonance touched her mind. The TARDIS remembered her, from so long ago. For some reason, the realisation brought tears to her eyes. It was as if she had just been welcomed home.

Once they were inside, the doors closed behind them, enveloping them in a womb-like ambience of safety. The console room was markedly different to what it had been when she had visited back on the Dark Heart.  Then, it had been bright white, streamlined and uncluttered, with a hexagonal console. Now the room was round, with a circular control platform and console, the crystal time rotor rising gracefully to the roof. The décor was much less clinical, much more organic, featuring a number of coralline support pillars, festooned with black, snake-like cables looping down from the roof.

The Doctor turned to look at her as she shuffled forward into the room, her legs still shaky and unsteady.  His eyebrows were raised, as if he was trying to convey an unspoken message.

He leaned over towards her and mouthed, "Tracking and listening devises. Recall overridden, possibly by a Tucker-Jackson energy weapon." He turned aside then, as if he were merely offering her some consolation or other.

She immediately understood and appreciated his warning, but it wasn't necessary. All of those measures were standard CIA surveillance protocols. She would have been more surprised if he had told her they were not present.

Nevertheless, she nodded her comprehension, before stepping up to the console and trailing her fingers appreciatively across the surface of it. “It seems you are not the only one who has changed your form, Doctor,” she remarked. “Your TARDIS has seen some rigorous service since we last met. And yet she is still beautiful. Her advanced age suits her.”

[Deleted]

[Ailla] nodded her comprehension, before stepping up to the console and trailing her fingers appreciatively across the surface of it. “It seems you are not the only one who has changed your form, Doctor,” she remarked. “Your TARDIS has seen some rigorous service since we last met. And yet she is still beautiful. Her advanced age suits her.”

"Yes, we've been through some tough battles." He was proud in his own way of his TARDIS, knowing how much it had withstood despite (or in his opinion because of) being of original Type 40 stock. "And there will be many more to come before it's over. Let's get you settled in, rest, clothing, food. Then we'll see about getting ourselves to Sarn under the Dalek Emperor's eyestalk without being exterminated."

He put his hands on the console, as if drawing support from it. Then he pushed off, showing Ailla some of the interior areas: spare parts and storage rooms at the ready, a medical area, the massive closet that had been a part of all his TARDISes (this time with the 'sensible' clothing pushed to the front), a bath, and a galley style kitchen with a food machine. There was also a few bedrooms down a branching hallway, though these seemed disused. White walls, white and cream bedding, silver and organic styling. They were welcoming but had no personalities attached. The TARDIS had not often seem visitors that were meant to stay long enough to inject them with personal trappings in some time.

"Please make yourself comfortable. When you're ready, you can find me in the control room. Making a few -adjustments,-" he said to her. Of course he meant was going to begin to pry up the floor grating and look for the devices that were no doubt planted in the TARDIS. That and run a complete and comprehensive scan.

[Ailla]

Apart from the ever-present, subliminal hum of the engines, the plain, unadorned room to which the Doctor led her was starkly different to the quarters she had occupied in Koschei's TARDIS. Had it really been centuries since she had set foot in those beautiful, airy rooms, decorated in the myriad of rich, jewel-like colours she loved so much? In her mind, it had literally only been yesterday. The sharp contrast hit her like a blow to the solar plexus, the bitter memories rising up to taunt her. The warm, comfortable living area; the big, luxurious bed; the silk carpet underfoot; and everywhere, the treasures and fascinating curiosities she had collected on her travels around the Universe with the other Time Lord. All of it gone now, like Koschei himself.

The Doctor's TARDIS, however, was no longer a means to discover the wonders of the universe. Like the man himself, her purpose had changed. She was now a war ship, attuned to a pitch of constant readiness. Ailla could feel the alertness and tension vibrating through the walls. Comfort and luxury were frivolities that could no longer be afforded.

"Please make yourself comfortable. When you're ready, you can find me in the control room. Making a few -adjustments,-" [the Doctor] said to her.

With that, he left her to her own devices. She guessed immediately what sort of 'adjustments' he had in mind. He was a renegade, accustomed to following his own path. Any form of CIA surveillance would be anathema to him. Perhaps, once she was settled, she would assist him with his task. After all, she was uniquely qualified in her knowledge of Agency procedure.

The first thing she did was to locate a change of clothes in the wardrobe room. She was wearing a loose, white robe she had never seen before. She could only assume that one of Sentris's agents had dressed her in it after they had subdued and sedated her. The repellent thought of the other agents touching her while she was helpless and unconscious enraged her all over again. Forcing her anger aside, she made herself concentrate on more practical matters, choosing a pair of plain black jeans and a white, long-sleeved top, mentally making adjustments for her recent regeneration. She was so much smaller now. It was going to take some getting used to.

After that, she took a long, hot shower, washing what felt like the grime of centuries from her body. By the time she was dry and dressed again, she felt almost fully restored. Oddly, she wasn't in the least bit hungry. She found herself wondering how long it would take her natural functions to reassert themselves, now that she was no longer sustained by the cryo-pod.

Pulling on a pair of black boots, she retraced her steps back to the console room, pausing hesitantly in the doorway to see what the Doctor was doing.

[Deleted]

Pulling on a pair of black boots, she retraced her steps back to the console room, pausing hesitantly in the doorway to see what the Doctor was doing.

The control room was in a state of concentrated disarray. Panels were pulled down, banks of data wafers exposed on the console, cables running every which way. Computers chattered away, scanning. The decking was pulled up and the Doctor stood down beneath, in the innards beneath, the whinge of the sonic screwdriver a persistent noise. He was muttering to himself under his breath, occasionally something vehement as he rooted something or other out. There were a few physical devices that lay in a pile like dead cockroaches, one having the look of having been stomped on in a fit of pique.

He didn't look up as Ailla returned, head bent over a component, eyes shielded by a pair of goggles. Gripped in his gloved hands was the wiring for the atom accelerator,  the steering mechanism for the TARDIS, its pins and leads streaming away etween the deep network throughout the ship andthe spiky ball that sat innocuously atop the console in a containment bowl.

A gloved hand revealed itself, waving at a bag of nearby tools, next to an abandoned arc welder. "Gandymede driver, if you please!"

[Ailla]

Ailla's eyes trailed around the console room. It was in a complete mess. The Doctor had obviously done an extremely thorough job in his search for intrusive devices. Going by the pile he had already excised from the TARDIS systems, the CIA were very keen to keep tabs on him indeed.

"Gandymede driver, if you please!"

A small, wry smile tilted the corner of her mouth at the authoritative tone of his voice. It was clear he was expecting his command to be immediately obeyed. She was a soldier, born and bred. She was used to taking orders from her superior officers. But being told what to do by a father... well, that was something that was going to take a bit of getting used to.

Squatting down beside the tool kit, she sorted through the disorganised tangle of Zeus plugs, moog drone clamps, neutron rams, stalos gyros and other miscellaneous tools, until she found the required ganymede driver.

Retrieving it, she walked back over to him and placed it in his waiting hand, before peering over his shoulder to study what he was doing.

“Have you stripped back the helmic regulator?” she queried. “The CIA are very fond of tampering with the drift compensators. They're such small components, most Time Lords never even notice.”

[Deleted]

Retrieving it, she walked back over to him and placed it in his waiting hand, before peering over his shoulder to study what he was doing.

"Ah, thank you." It was nice having someone about that knew what he was asking after without a long description. Nice to have someone aboard period, though those were not thoughts he could entertain.

As soon as the instrument was in his hands, he put it to use on the exposed thermo-couplings behind the wiring in his other hand. A few adjustments and he put the instrument between his teeth, prodding at the work with a nod of satisfaction. After putting everything back where it was before, he took the instrument and popped it into a spare loop on his bandolier, next to his sonic screwdriver. "There, that should do."

“Have you stripped back the helmic regulator?” she queried. “The CIA are very fond of tampering with the drift compensators. They're such small components, most Time Lords never even notice.”

"I hadn't, but it certainly sounds like we should! With that beam they used on the TARDIS, no use letting them have any more control of the old girl than they've already got. Let's have a look, shall we?" It took a few more moments to get at the regulator and more to pry it away to get at he admittedly small drift compensator. His had seen better days even before tampering, which ironically made it all the easier to spot the work done on it.

"Mh-uh...thought that we wouldn't catch that..." He pointed out a part that was altogether not abused enough to match its neighbors. A few buzzes with his sonic and it was released. He held it out to Ailla for inspection.

[Ailla]

"Mh-uh...thought that we wouldn't catch that..." He pointed out a part that was altogether not abused enough to match its neighbors. A few buzzes with his sonic and it was released. He held it out to Ailla for inspection.

Reaching out her hand, she took it from him. An integral part of the astral navigation systems of a TARDIS, the Relative Drift Compensators were used to keep the ship's position within the Vortex stable, by protecting it against time eddies, random molecular disturbances, and other fluctuations. Once engaged, they would cause the TARDIS to move towards and lock onto the nearest major centre of gravity, usually the closest planet.

As Ailla had pointed out to the Doctor, it was a common but little-known tactic employed by the CIA, to attach a microscopic tracking device to the integrant circuitry, so inconspicuous as to be almost indistinguishable from the original component. This particular device was what Ailla was now holding in her hand.

Grabbing a sonic probe from the toolbox, she used it to trigger the device, extending her palm so the Doctor could see.  Little by little, the innocuous-looking black cube began to unfold before their eyes, until it looked like a small, extremely repellent black insect, complete with writhing metal feelers, designed to infiltrate the TARDIS neural networks. Once it was activated, the CIA would be able to follow every move the Doctor's TARDIS made. Even worse, if they so chose, they could use it to override the main navigational matrices, effectively hi-jacking directional control of the ship.

Watching it undulate on the palm of her hand, she gave a grimace of disgust. “It's a high resolution scintillating fibre detector with charge coupled device interface,” she said bluntly. “Heaven alone knows how long it's been attached to your drift compensators. There's only one effective way to deal with this.”

She tossed the device on to the floor, where it squirmed as though it was alive, single-mindedly attempting to drag itself back across to the console. Without a second's hesitation, she slammed her boot heel down on to it, crushing it into a smudge of metallic black dust.

Then her eyes rose to meet her father's, a regretful expression in the emerald depths. “I wish I could tell you that freeing your TARDIS from CIA surveillance was that simple, Doctor,” she said gravely. “But I'm afraid that isn't true...not as long as you have me on board.”

Pushing back the belled sleeve of her white cotton top, she displayed to him the beautiful onyx bracelet, inlaid with golden tracery, clasped around her left wrist.

“This is a CIA recall bracelet. While ever I wear it, they will know precisely where I am at all times. And I cannot take it off. It's been bonded to my wrist at a cellular level, ever since I was a child.”

[Deleted]

“It's a high resolution scintillating fibre detector with charge coupled device interface,” she said bluntly. “Heaven alone knows how long it's been attached to your drift compensators. There's only one effective way to deal with this.”

One had to wonder. Was it his second life that they'd attached it? There wasn't anything to do about it now but be glad that it had been found Along with the crunch from Ailla's boot, he felt a small measure of satisfaction. 'Take that,' he thought.

Then her eyes rose to meet her father's, a regretful expression in the emerald depths. “I wish I could tell you that freeing your TARDIS from CIA surveillance was that simple, Doctor,” she said gravely. “But I'm afraid that isn't true...not as long as you have me on board.”

Pushing back the belled sleeve of her white cotton top, she displayed to him the beautiful onyx bracelet, inlaid with golden tracery, clasped around her left wrist.

“This is a CIA recall bracelet. While ever I wear it, they will know precisely where I am at all times. And I cannot take it off. It's been bonded to my wrist at a cellular level, ever since I was a child.”

He reached out to take her arm, bringing the shackle closer to him to inspect. It was a pretty bauble but he knew better than to judge it by its appearance. It was a manacle, an object to control, no matter how expertly crafted. So like the CIA. He should have known they'd never let her out without some way to monitor her. And in doing so, they also could keep track of him. Naturally, his first reaction was to wonder how to get rid of it entirely. If it would regenerate with her somehow. If losing an arm would trigger a regeneration, then what might happen? Not that he wanted to have to find out in such a way.

"It seems they think they have thought of everything," he said wearily. After a short pause he added with more steel, "But they haven't.  They never do. There must be some way to countermand it.  If there was some way to keep them thinking the signal was still transmitting...then maybe we can stop them tracing you. At least temporarily. But not yet. That would show our hand much too early."

"Would you care to have one last inspection for anything else before we get underway then? We're to go to Sarn...I hope you know that I have absolutely no intention of turning over these beings to the CIA for experimentation," he said mildly, replacing the decking as he spoke. "Is that going to be a problem?" he asked, punctuating it with the clang of the last plate, nudging it into place with his boot. "If they wish to use this prion from the Gyns'abu to infect the Dalek Pathweb and destroy the Daleks, then it looks like we're going to have to find a way to do it that won't kill the last remaining members of the species." He put both hands on the console. "First things first though, get to Sarn and locate them."