The Wanderer: An'Garon & Gallifrey

A lone TARDIS slowly materialized on the surface of the war-torn planet of An'Garon, appearing among the ruins of thousands of war engines and transforming into a battered-looking Gallifreyan troop transport. A great fortress loomed over the ranks of dead engines, the gaping wounds in the fortress' walls a testament to the terrible power of its besiegers.

A trio of figures stumbled from the disguised time capsule, hurriedly straightening when they noticed the Dalek skimmer in front of them, its oversized gun-stick still pointing up at the fortress walls. The eldest-looking of the three, a tall but somehow diminished man, nervously fingered the control panel on his shield vambrace, memories of the battlefields of the War still fresh in his mind. His companions, a young Time Lady he'd rescued from a dying gate-station and a soldier who'd been the last survivor of the unit assigned to that same gate-station, were also caught off-guard, the soldier letting out a panicked yell and aiming his staser rifle at the skimmer before the Time Lord carefully nudged the rifle's barrel down to point at the ground.

"Be at peace Pharius. The monsters at its heart are long dead."

The Wanderer, a name he'd certainly lived up to over the course of his three thousand years of life, turned away from the skimmer, glancing back at his TARDIS for a moment. Why bring us here?

His musings were interrupted by the sound of a gunshot, the noise echoing around the quiet graveyard. Again the trio were alert, wary eyes scanning the wreckage surrounding them. Pharius took the lead, able to pick out which direction the shot had come from, and cautiously led the Wanderer and the Time Lady, nicknamed the Silent, among the ranks of dead war machines. The soldier eventually paused when he reached a wrecked battle tank of Human design, rapidly turning in a circle.

"This is where that shot came from. I can't tell which direction the shooter went in though, or what they were shooting at."

While Pharius had been speaking the Silent had knelt, touching the single bullet casing on the ground. Almost instantly she was back on her feet, tugging on the Wanderer's left arm and pointing towards the fortress.

Both she and Pharius had made use of his TARDIS' med-bay after they'd fled Gallifrey but something more was wrong with the Silent, a deeper trauma that had rendered her mute. The Wanderer put it down to shock, he'd probably be the same if he'd had a sheltered life instead of being away from Gallifrey fighting in the War, and indulged the damaged girl, looking towards where her arm pointed. A section of battlement was missing, no doubt destroyed during the battle, but that just made it easier to spot the figures moving atop the wall as they crossed the open area.

"Pharius, I want you to get on top of that tank. See if you can't find a sheltered path to the fortress."

The Gallifreyan frowned but obeyed, hauling himself onto the tank's turret. Another shot rang out, the bullet making sparks as it hit the hull of the tank, and almost instantly a volley of shots were fired. Pharius scrambled down from his perch, joining the others in sheltering from the gunfire.

"What in Rassilon's name is happening out there?"

The Wanderer was silent for a moment, thinking through all the possibilities, before fishing a p-mac tablet computer from a pocket of his trenchcoat and activating it for a minute after extending an antenna, hoping that the radio frequencies it was tuned to pick up would be empty. The unmistakably harsh sounds of a Dalek emerged from the device though, the mutant creature calling for its slaves to advance against the fortress.

"I thought they were all at Gallifrey…" The shocked Wanderer trailed off when he noticed how badly his companions had reacted. Pharius was rigid, gripping his rifle so tightly the Wanderer thought it might break, while the Silent was pale and trembling, almost as if she were on the verge of a panic attack. "Pharius, take our friend and go back to the TARDIS. I'll destroy the Daleks and join you there."

Part of him had suspected that it couldn't be true, that not every Dalek had gone to Gallifrey to die, but it had been something the High Council had decreed would happen and that had been enough to quell his doubt until now. With a heavy heart the Wanderer realised that it was likely thousands of Daleks would’ve been absent, commanding assault forces like the one he faced on thousands of different worlds. Even after they're gone they still continue to conquer the universe.

The Wanderer watched Pharius disappear, the firefight dying down until even the potshots ceased. Rising from his crouch the Time Lord glanced around for a moment, orientating himself in relation to the TARDIS' location, before setting off away from the fortress, pressing a button on the p-mac and unfolding the attached screen as it lit up. A flashing dot appeared on the screen, accompanied by a quiet repeating bleep, and the Wanderer paused in time to see a Human walk past, the eye-stalk emerging from her forehead a sure sign that she was a Dalek puppet.

The Wanderer evaded a dozen other puppets, learning more about their patrol patterns each time, before he caught his first glimpse of the Dalek saucer. It was a small vessel, sitting on a low plateau a fair distance from the rear of the machine graveyard, with no cover available for anyone trying to sneak up on it. Looking around at the Dalek skimmers flanking him the Wanderer paused for a moment before moving over to the one on his right, edging his way up to the large hole in the turret. The pulped remains of the Dalek creature that had controlled the skimmer’s main gun-stick was still there and the Wanderer grimaced as he reached through the goo to get to the turret controls. It slowly turned, spinning until the gun-stick was pointing at the saucer, and the Wanderer tapped another button on the control panel before leaping from the skimmer and crouching in the shadow of the other.

A thick beam of energy emerged from the giant gun-stick, easily punching through the Dalek saucer's armour and penetrating deep into its heart. Almost instantly the sphere at its center exploded, pieces of machinery flying from newly-made wounds, and the Wanderer just ran, recognizing some of the ruined equipment as being from the saucer's power management systems.

On the other edge of the tank graveyard Pharius watched as a thick plume of black smoke rose into the air. He could see people moving on the fortress' battlements, no doubt wondering what was happening, and he quickly turned away as a dome of bright light flashed into and out of existence. The roar of the cataclysmic explosion reached him a few seconds later, a great shockwave washing over him and the TARDIS as the distant dome of light dissipated. The Silent poked her head out as the noise faded away, a question on her face, and Pharius cautiously nodded, not quite ready to firmly commit.

"I do think that that was probably a saucer blowing up. With any luck we'll be leaving soon and heading back to Gallifrey."

The Silent gave a reserved smile, disappearing back into the TARDIS, and as Pharius turned back to keep an eye out for the Wanderer he began thinking about the Time Lady. She'd been assigned to the gate-station shortly before the Daleks had attacked, replacing an experienced Time Lord needed elsewhere, although they'd had no proper contact due to their differing positions. Like the Wanderer Pharius put her mutism down to shock, although he was, as a pure-breed Gallifreyan and a trained soldier, less sympathetic to the noblewoman and her condition.

Lifting his rifle as he caught movement in the corner of his eye Pharius relaxed when he realised it was only the Wanderer. Stepping aside as the Time Lord approached Pharius glanced towards where a cluster of smoke columns twisted their ways upwards.

"The Daleks are gone?"

"Yes." The Wanderer was tired, of the War, of killing, and it showed in his voice. Entering his TARDIS the Wanderer headed for the console, typing a string of coordinates into the computer, before spinning as Pharius entered and closed the exterior doors behind him. "Ready to return to Gallifrey?"

Without waiting for answers the Wanderer pulled on a lever, the TARDIS juddering into action and dematerializing with a wheeze. Not long, my dear, and then we both can rest.

It would take a couple of hours for them to travel to Gallifrey, longer if the Time Lords were still on a war footing, and the Wanderer used the journey to try and help the Silent get better. They were in the med-bay, in a special mirror chamber he'd created centuries ago, sitting cross-legged in front of each other.

"Focus and concentrate on your inner core. Now think back. It might be hard but try to remember the attack." The Silent took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she centered herself, before letting the Wanderer reach out and touch his fingers to her temples, creating a mental link between them. "You remember your name. Can you think it?"

He saw instead through the mental link, looking on as though he was her, the memory of watching a squad of unfeeling Daleks gliding along an elegantly crafted corridor, nearing a six-sided intersection. A pair of Gallifreyan soldiers were crouched behind a hastily-made barricade, taking potshots at the approaching Daleks, while technicians and engineers rushed up and down connecting corridors in a panic behind them. Everything changed though as with the screech of gun-sticks both soldiers were killed, the Daleks swiftly turning their attention to the other Gallifreyans as they, and she, began fleeing.

"No!"

The Silent pushed herself to her feet, rapidly withdrawing from the Wanderer as the link broke and the memory faded. The Time Lord also rose, although slower than the Silent had, and crossed to her side, gently drawing her into a comforting embrace.

"I'm sorry. Do you want to continue?"

She was quiet, almost to the point that the Wanderer had to strain his hearing, but he smiled when he heard her speak complete, if stumbling, sentences.

"We have to Wanderer. You can't keep calling me 'the Silent'."

The Wanderer gently laughed, pleased by the dry humour he’d heard in the Time Lady's voice, and shook his head.

"No, I suppose I can't. Get centered again and try to remember. You've already made good progress."

This time though it was the Silent's memory of the Daleks bursting into the gate-station’s command chamber, firing at the staff again and again, that rose to the forefront of the mental link. The other three Time Lords on duty didn’t even get to start their regenerations before suffering their final deaths, the Gallifreyans lucky in that they were each only shot once. A heavy sheet of metal suddenly dominated the memory as part of the command center collapsed in front of the Silent, a sense of despair filling the link, and the Wanderer carefully intruded on the memory, drawing away some of the negativity.

With a combined shudder the link was broken again. The Wanderer withdrew his fingers and got to his feet, helping the Silent to her's. But she wasn't the Silent anymore, the Wanderer having helped to relieve just enough of the mental trauma she'd suffered, and the nickname had been discarded in favour of her true name and identity.

"Vedacastrodvar?"

The Time Lady looked at the Wanderer when she heard her name, nodding as she came back to herself.

"You can call me Veda if you'd prefer. Everyone at the Academy knows the story of Fred."

"Everyone on Gallifrey knows the story of Fred. And our former Lady President isn't that happy that everyone knows. But back to you Veda, as we return to the console room, how do you feel?"

"Better, thank you. I think my mind was actually starting to forget I was more than just instinct."

"It's a defense mechanism. Given enough time, perhaps a decade or so, you would have naturally recovered." Stepping into the console room the Wanderer looked down at where Pharius was slowly pacing around the console. "Everything been alright in here?"

"Your TARDIS is remarkably well-behaved. It's been a much smoother flight than our previous one."

"We weren't fleeing from Daleks and fire this time. Of course the flight is smoother." The Wanderer looked at the console as a chime rang out. "If you take those controls and Veda, if you take those controls, let's see if we can land."

The transduction barrier was either down, a very worrying sign, or on its lowest intensity, the Wanderer’s TARDIS easily materializing in a capsule bay beneath the Capitol. A soldier of the Chancellery Guard was waiting when the Wanderer emerged, snapping to attention and setting the Time Lord's mind at ease.

"My Lord. I have orders to escort you immediately to the Panopticon." The soldier paused when Veda appeared behind the Wanderer, noticing the symbols on her uniform that identified her as nobility. "You as well my Lady."

"Any particular reason? I would prefer to rest for a bit first."

The soldier frowned, caught off-guard by the Wanderer's response, before shaking his head.

"The Lord President has commanded all Time Lords to assemble in the Panopticon. That is all I know my Lord."

The Wanderer sighed in resignation, motioning for his welcoming committee to lead the way, and glanced back as Pharius awkwardly left the TARDIS, a technician stepping up to begin making repairs to the time capsule.

Thousands of Time Lords, most likely everyone who'd survived the War, already filled the Panopticon when the Wanderer and Veda entered the massive chamber, everyone's gaze on the presidential dias. Rassilon stood there in his full regalia, glaring out over the assembled ranks of his creations, and he was flanked by a pair of heavily-armoured elite soldiers from the Chancellery Guard.

"My children! We have won a great war and destroyed those who would render us extinct! Now it is they who are extinct!"

The Wanderer shook his head as Rassilon continued his victory rant, knowing the resurrected dictator was wrong, and he pushed through the crowd before climbing onto the left foot of Rassilon's statue, the sound of his throat clearing echoing throughout the vast chamber.

"The Daleks are not extinct Lord President! I fought one on the planet of An'Garon, and we know that Davros can somehow survive the most grievous defeats!"

"My Lord Wanderer. You yourself were commanded to ensure that the Daleks were all here…"

"And I failed! There are still Daleks out there! We need to finish this war properly!"

Angered by the Wanderer's interruptions Rassilon finally slammed his staff of office down, the sharp crack of metal on stone silencing everyone and everything in the Panopticon.

"Enough Renegade! We have dealt the Daleks a blow it will take them countless millennia to recover from and if they come back we shall do it again! Now is the time for Gallifrey to rebuild." Rassilon took a calming breath, casting his gaze back over the entire chamber. "Zero Rooms have been prepared for those who wish to regenerate."

Nearly three-quarters of the Panopticon's occupants, Rassilon included, headed for the Zero Rooms until all who remained were either in their thirteenth incarnations or considered themselves not affected enough by the War to need regenerating. The Wanderer was one of those bound for a Zero Room whilst Veda had stayed in the Panopticon, unsure of her place in post-War Gallifrey. She'd excelled in almost every subject whilst at the Academy, her family giving up much to make her part of a future in which the Time Lords were victorious, but actually... Turning slightly she took in the conversations of the Time Lords around her, the elders who just wanted peace and quiet contrasting with the younger generations who wanted to go back out into the universe, to rebuild the empire Gallifrey had abandoned when the secrets of time travel had been discovered. Her attention was grabbed by a flickering screen between the booted feet of the statue of Omega and Veda crossed over to it, noticing that it was simply changing between different images of locations on Gallifrey before gasping in shock as she recognized some of the locations, a kernel of hate taking root in her hearts. Arcadia, Mount Solace, the Dry and the Empty... All are burning, the Daleks themselves wiped out but the carnage they've wrought still there.

The Wanderer entered a Zero Room, taking note of the heavy security around the one Rassilon had just stepped into, and instantly began feeling more at peace, his thoughts about how secure in his position the Lord President felt washed away. Shimmers of gold began appearing just beneath his skin, the regeneration getting underway, and the Wanderer emptied his mind. The shimmering gold rapidly expanded, disappearing beneath his clothing before reappearing to swirl up his neck and envelop his head. His features softened and flowed, the patrician face he'd had becoming younger, his hair growing down the length of his back. He could feel the proportions of his body changing and by the time the regeneration ended he knew his sixth incarnation was shorter than previously.

Emerging from the Zero Room the Wanderer joined a crowd almost completely different to the one he'd left before regenerating. Making his way back to the Panopticon, briefly glancing around to look for Veda, he slipped into a 'secret' chamber currently found beneath one of the great statues. In theory only Renegades knew of and could access the Room, which seemed to move about the Capitol at random, but in practice most Time Lords were aware that a secret meeting place existed, even if they didn't know where. Two others were already in the Room, the Venatrix and Androkartrelunder, and a third, the Surgeon, was entering from another entrance.

"Your new body is so much better looking than your previous one."

The Wanderer laughed and ducked around Andro when the Venatrix, one of his oldest and closest friends, playfully stalked towards him, using the other Time Lord as a living obstacle.

"So does yours Venatrix. I imagine no one will be safe when you get back on the hunt."

The comment made the Venatrix frown and she glanced over at Andro for a second before turning back to face the Wanderer.

"Everyone heard you earlier Wanderer, and everyone heard Rassilon all but acknowledge that the Daleks are still out there. I've decided that they shall be my only prey now."

"Of course. And you Andro?"

"I shall stay on Gallifrey for a time, to help rebuild, and then I will meet you among the stars."

The Surgeon had come over while the three had been talking, the Room filling up around them, and the Wanderer turned slightly, inviting the Surgeon into the conversation.

"Do you truly believe that the Daleks are still out there?"

The Venatrix leapt to her friend's defence, moving to poke the Surgeon's chest.

"If the Wanderer says he fought a Dalek on An'Garon then he did."

"The survival of one Dalek does not mean the survival of others."

Stepping between the two the Wanderer considered the Surgeon for a moment before speaking.

"You're right of course Surgeon. But imagine that the Daleks were planning for the next war, that they were so confident of victory over us that they were already dreaming of universal conquest. An'Garon is home to a temporal rift. Imagine what the Daleks could do if they'd seized that rift."

The Surgeon paused before bowing his head slightly, conceding the point and the logic behind it.

"There are many places like An'Garon, and many more that just hold spatial significance. You think the Daleks are still trying to conquer those places?"

"I do. But there is probably no more than one Dalek per location. Only on Skaro itself would the Daleks gather in numbers."

The mentioning of the Dalek homeworld provoked a whole range of curses from the gathered Renegades and the Wanderer glanced around. There were nearly thirty of them in the Room, more than had been gathered in a single place for a long time, and they'd all been paying attention to the conversation the Wanderer had been having, using the silence to all begin talking at the same time.

The meeting was finally over, the Renegades dispersing and promising to fight the Daleks whenever they were encountered. Veda had tagged along when the Wanderer headed back to his TARDIS, having decided that Gallifrey itself had changed too much for her and seeking some stability, and together they entered the capsule bay. Pharius was there, clad in a new uniform with new rank insignia, and the Wanderer sighed in irritation.

"It would be you." The Wanderer took a step forward, pausing when Pharius moved to block his path. "Look, you know how this has to go down right?"

"I do. But I also know it has to look authentic."

Veda looked between the Wanderer and Pharius, concern and a question plainly written on her face.

"What's happening?"

"The High Council, long ago in another age, actually tried to stop Renegades from leaving Gallifrey. Eventually though they realised that we'd find a way offworld, one way or another, and so relaxed the rules somewhat. New Renegades, those leaving Gallifrey for the first time, are directed to deliberately unmanned bays while those of us who have found our way home 'overpower' the soldier protecting the cradle our TARDIS is in." The Wanderer glanced at Pharius. "I'll try not to hurt you too much but this is a new body. I don't know my own strength yet."

"Then let me." Both the Wanderer and Pharius watched as Veda moved forward and promptly kneed the soldier in the crotch. He went down like a felled tree and Veda glanced back at the Wanderer. "Shall we go?"

"Hang on." The Wanderer dragged Pharius over to the bay's control suite, helping him into a chair, before dashing back to his TARDIS and unlocking it, sliding the door open to let Veda enter first. "I wonder where we shall end up."