Post by Ailla on Jul 24, 2018 21:49:39 GMT -5
"No, they are not the Gyns'abu. This is a secondary laboratory. This way." And turning on the spot, she began to walk in a steady, straight line down the length of the laboratory, past the cylinders and with their grisly contents, towards the door at the back.
"Wait!” Ailla cried angrily, starting after the other woman, intending to bring her back. “Didn't you hear me? These are CIA Elite! We can't just... just leave them here like this!”
"I do not know of your 'CIA Elite'. Do they have a property in common with the Gyns'abu that would make them of interest to the research here? There will be a positive control and a negative control for the main experiments."
"The Elite were Gallifreyan children, taken from the loom, trained by the CIA as soldiers and agents from infancy. Each one was genetically identified as an anomaly – each one gifted with extraordinary talents that the CIA could use!” Ailla explained, her hands to her temples as she tried to reason it out, tried to find the logic behind the horrific discovery. “But how could the Daleks know that – it was a top secret project! And how could they acquire them all like this? And for what purpose?”
Sarracenia was peering through the door down a wide, sloping corridor. Ailla knew her mission parameters demanded that she concentrate on this next difficulty, this next hurdle in reaching the Gyns'abu. All her thoughts should be trained on what was needed to get down that corridor undetected. But her cell had been her family, the only one she had ever had. They were the only ones who had ever had her back, the only ones who had cared whether she lived or died, and she had sworn her loyalty to them until death. Iogair had been lost to them, consumed by madness and by blood, but the others still lived. She could no more leave them behind in this clinical hell than cut out her own hearts.
“No,” she said huskily, turning her back on the waiting doorway. “I can't leave here. Not without taking them with me.”
And with that, she hurried back to the cylinders, her eyes already studying the controls, in an attempt to understand the technology. Resolutely, she kept her eyes averted from the tanks containing the sentient brains. There was no way of knowing who they were, or whether they were also CIA Elite. She could do nothing for them, except perhaps to grant them death, ending their perpetual torture. But if she could somehow activate the revivification process, perhaps the sleeping Time Lords could still be saved.
“Come on, come on...” she told herself in an urgent undertone as her hands flew over one of the data-entry pads, knowing that her father was still risking his life to buy them time – time which she was now blatantly allocating to something which had never been part of their mission. “You have to do this!”
"Wait!” Ailla cried angrily, starting after the other woman, intending to bring her back. “Didn't you hear me? These are CIA Elite! We can't just... just leave them here like this!”
"I do not know of your 'CIA Elite'. Do they have a property in common with the Gyns'abu that would make them of interest to the research here? There will be a positive control and a negative control for the main experiments."
"The Elite were Gallifreyan children, taken from the loom, trained by the CIA as soldiers and agents from infancy. Each one was genetically identified as an anomaly – each one gifted with extraordinary talents that the CIA could use!” Ailla explained, her hands to her temples as she tried to reason it out, tried to find the logic behind the horrific discovery. “But how could the Daleks know that – it was a top secret project! And how could they acquire them all like this? And for what purpose?”
Sarracenia was peering through the door down a wide, sloping corridor. Ailla knew her mission parameters demanded that she concentrate on this next difficulty, this next hurdle in reaching the Gyns'abu. All her thoughts should be trained on what was needed to get down that corridor undetected. But her cell had been her family, the only one she had ever had. They were the only ones who had ever had her back, the only ones who had cared whether she lived or died, and she had sworn her loyalty to them until death. Iogair had been lost to them, consumed by madness and by blood, but the others still lived. She could no more leave them behind in this clinical hell than cut out her own hearts.
“No,” she said huskily, turning her back on the waiting doorway. “I can't leave here. Not without taking them with me.”
And with that, she hurried back to the cylinders, her eyes already studying the controls, in an attempt to understand the technology. Resolutely, she kept her eyes averted from the tanks containing the sentient brains. There was no way of knowing who they were, or whether they were also CIA Elite. She could do nothing for them, except perhaps to grant them death, ending their perpetual torture. But if she could somehow activate the revivification process, perhaps the sleeping Time Lords could still be saved.
“Come on, come on...” she told herself in an urgent undertone as her hands flew over one of the data-entry pads, knowing that her father was still risking his life to buy them time – time which she was now blatantly allocating to something which had never been part of their mission. “You have to do this!”
