The Divine Cavalcade, Part One
“…so what are you buying?” River says softly, wrapping her arm around Jack’s and leading him back down the dock ramp to another shuttle.
Jack turns to her and grins darkly again, then answers, “What are you selling?”
Both their thoughts turn to their guns. But then…
“Wait!” calls a small voice from the first ramp.
Man and woman on both sides of the boarding platforms look toward the source of the slightly disembodied noise, only to see Lord Borusa tramping down the gangs.
As she walks toward them, the young bodied Time Lord raises her hand to silence Pasmodius, who is trailing behind her, whimpering plaintive refusals with his waggling wattle.
With a shared smile, Jack and River strain to listen in.
“You are perfect for the job, Pasmodius; you’ve been here a good deal longer than a lot of the newer council members, and I am set of mind. I will go on this journey, and you will do as I say and lead Gallifrey in my absence.”
“I highly doubt that I shall have the time, my Lord Borusa! Why, the Namaste Nerada are missing their shifts again, the new Libraries Assistant has disappeared, and the Sub-Archivist is claiming Argonian Influenza! To say nothing of the…”
Borusa spins around in a flurry of golden hair and reaches to the old man’s mouth, skewing a small finger across it. “I highly doubt it’s that bad. The Council has reached a tentatively settled concurrence in most matters concerning the Assassin and his unfortunate history, the matter of Rassilon’s punishment is tabled for the moment, and you, Pasmo, can do this. It’s not every day you get such an opportunity. Carry on as per our usual, and I shall reward your efforts upon my return.”
Jack and River are perched atop one another, hanging out the door of the shuttle.
Borusa walks by them, clipping both their ears with a loud pop on the way inside.
The small ship will ferry the three straight to Mnrva, courtesy of someone’s presets.
As the shuttle teleports out, Pasmodius swats away the student who keeps touching his shoulder and murmuring idiocies.
“I really do not care, child; go away.”
“But sir, it’s really very all right- they won’t be gone long, Lord Borusa promised us. Let us go back to the Library and fetch the tomes on gardening; we still need to sort…”
Pasmodius makes a yawning motion as he wraps his fingers around the young girl’s neck and snaps.
For a moment, he isn’t sure if the Time Lords wailing and flailing about are doing so because he just killed one of them, or because he pretended to yawn.
Everyone knows Time Lords can’t yawn.
Over the comms, a message plays out, just as his master intended.
‘Emergency! Emergency! Communications are down- there is a cloud of…’