The Death of Time Lord Clara {Open to Time Lords}

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Clarissa dipped her quill in the ink, sketching on the parchment. Today was the day she got herself a TARDIS. She had watched the Doctor just take one... It should be easy. She hadn't really decided on an alias. Almost every Time Lord had one, but her? Well... The Chef? The Clever Girl? The Total Screaming Sexy Genius? She liked that last one... A bit long. Hm... Oh, she'd figure it out later. There was a TARDIS with her name on it just sitting there, ripe for the taking.

Clarissa rolled up the scroll, sticking it in the niche behind her desk. Someone would find it after she left... Clarissa stood up, placed a blaster in its holster, and walked out.

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Clarissa glanced around the corner, seeing them. There were more guards. Of course there were. After the Doctor took one, they wanted to make sure it didn't keep happening. It'd definitely be more difficult... She might need help. "Alright... Who would be willing to help me jack a TARDIS?"

[Deleted]

"So, the Doctor finally did it, did he?" There was no disgust or distaste in the speaker's voice. If anything, the rich baritone held a note of amusement and approval.

"You sound like you admire him, T..."

The first speaker, a man dressed outlandishly (for Gallifrey) in breeches and boots and a poet's shirt, held up a finger as the two rounded a corner. The second - a jowley man in apparently middle years, garbed in the rust-colored robes and skullcap and collar of the Prydonian chapter - bit back on his words.

"Please, Lord Ninurtashursin" the first speaker said, voice admonishing. "I've taken a title. I am the Corsair, now. Please, show some respect for convention."

Lord Ninurtashursin sniffed. "Respect for convention?" he repeated, scoffing. "My Lord the Corsair, you are hardly in a position to chide another Lord for such a thing. I saw potential in you, lad! Potential!"

The Corsair bowed. "And I am grateful for your patronage, my Lord..."

"But then, after I expend considerable effort in obtaining a field position for you," Lord Ninurtashursin continued, "what do you do? Do you behave with decorum?"

"I behaved in a manner calculated to allow me to blend in with the natives..." the Corsair said, flashing his winning smile. Lord ninurtashursin was not impressed.

"You all but... but... went native!" exploded the older Time Lord. "Drinking!:

"Alcohol," the Corsair snorted, dismissively. "It wasn't as if I..."

"Consorting with low-caste individuals!"

"I was looking for Cousins of the Faction Paradox!" the Corsair rebutted. "Should I have looked among the aristocracy?"

"Yes!" the older Lord cried. "Because that's where they were!"

The older and younger Time Lord glared at each other for amoment, and then the elder's face softened. "Corsair," he said, clapping a large hand on the younger man's shoulder, "I'm simply concerned for you. You have great potential, but you... well, on your first assignment you return with an affectation for primitive clothing, ink etched into your flesh, and an island destroyed." He shook his head. "And now you're expressing both sympathy and... and admiration for the worst of criminals."

Ninurtashursin shook his head. "Just, give some thought to your future, my lad."

After a moment, the Corsair bowed slightly. "Of course, my Lord. I thank you for your wise council."

Satisfied, Lord Ninurtashursin acknowledged the comment with a nod and a smile. Then he turned, striding from the TARDIS docks. The Corsair watched him depart, then looked lazily to his left. "Did you enjoy our little drama, my Lady?" he asked the pretty brunette who was trying so hard to look as if she wasn't looking.

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Clarissa pretended to not know what he was talking about, looking back at the multiple TARDIS' just waiting to be taken... Then she legitimately looked at him. If he really had an admiration for criminals, then maybe he was one himself. He could help her. The increase in guards would be a problem alone, but with him, it'd be better. Maybe they could come up with a plan clever enough to score her a TARDIS. Problem was, how to bring it up? It's not exactly like it was something you casually talked about on Gallifrey.


"Did you hear of that Doctor taking a TARDIS? Almost unheard of..." Of course, she had been there. But, she managed to edit out any evidence that she had ever been there. She was excellent with computers. She had always wanted to take up baking though... "Do you think you could pull it off? I mean, taking a TARDIS? Especially after the security's been hiked? Would almost be suicide..." Clarissa found a smile creeping onto her face. It probably looked sassy with a hint of sexiness... Or, at least, that's what she thought it looked like.

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There was something extremely fetching about the way the brunette - who was even cuter than he'd thought at first glance - tried to pretend like she had no idea what he was talking about. Finally, though, after being coy for several moments, she gave him a look and a grin.

"Did you hear of that Doctor taking a TARDIS?" she asked. "Almost unheard of..."

He nodded. "Almost. Not quite unprecedented, although the method certainly was." He grinned at the thought. "Just walking into a TARDIS and taking off with it certainly fits the Doctor's style."

"Do you think you could pull it off? I mean, taking a TARDIS? Especially after the security's been hiked? Would almost be suicide..." She smiled when she said that, clearly trying to seem like she was making a joke of it. He doubted she was, but that smile made her even prettier and added a note of vulnerability.

And the Corsair had always been a bit of a sucker for the 'damsel in distress'.

"Why, no," he said, loudly and clearly. "I have every confidence in the new safeguards installed by the Chancillary Guard. Something like that could never happen again, and it is certainly inappropriate to discuss it here" He hesitated, then winked a little. "Perhaps you would do me the honor of taking lunch with me?"

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At first, Clarissa felt disappointed, but upon further listening, she found her smile returning. So this man could help her. Brilliant.

"Alright. Let's have lunch..." She slid next to him as if they were old friends, and led him away from the area. So, how was she going to play this? It was hard to wonder. She could come off as desperate. Or a damsel in distress... But, in the end, she guessed it didn't matter. As long as she got to travel the stars, she didn't care what show she had to put on.

"You can call me Clarissa."

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Apparently, his invitation hadn't been too subtle. He'd been a little worried, really. Some Time Lords could be thick

"Alright," she murmured, "Let's have lunch..."

"Delightful," he agreed, allowing her to lead him from the TARDIS creches. "If you don't have something in mind, I know a wonderful place, just overlooking the Cruciform."

The labyrinthine halls of the Panopticon trailed past as they walked. After a moment, she said "You can call me Clarissa."

"You honor me," he said. He'd have tipped his hat, except he wasn't wearing it. "Corsair. Well, technically, I suppose I should insist on the full and formal 'my Lord the Corsair', but I'm not some sanctimonious prat." A smile. "Well, maybe I am. A touch, at least. I am a Time Lord, after all."

As one of the Panopticon exits neared, he added "Have you been to my Lord Florian's establishment?"

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The Corsair? Such a spirited name. Almost oozed with someone who appreciated the darker pleasures of life... Which fit her needs very well. "Maybe we all have a sanctimonious prat deep down... Some of us deeper than others." She laughed a little, but raised an eyebrow. "Lord Florian? Hm... I think I've heard of Florian, but can't say I've ever been. I've been much too busy living in my homely manor of a one room living quarters."

Eh, she had she what she had... At least she could call it all hers. And nobody helped her get it. "So, I have a problem... I was wondering, if maybe you could assist." Maybe she could get the plan going, even before they got to "lunch"... Or actual lunch. She didn't know which he literally meant.

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She responded with spirit and a touch of humor, two things that seemed sorely lacking in young graduates of the Academy. Most young Time Lords were obsequeous to their elders and constantly vying for status and position among their peers.

"Maybe we all have a sanctimonious prat deep down... Some of us deeper than others."

The Corsair pressed one hand to his dexter heart, and raised the other to his forehead in a dramatic pantomime. "My Lady," he cried, staggering backwards, "you have struck well and truly!"

She laughed as he nearly collided with the wall. Recovering, he added "Have you been to my Lord Florian's establishment?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Lord Florian? Hm... I think I've heard of Florian, but can't say I've ever been. I've been much too busy living in my homely manor of a one room living quarters."

"A single room?" he responded, surprised. "I would not have taken you for one of the Eremites, forsaking the world of material things to focus on the deep mysteries of the mind."

They emerged into daylight.

Sort of.

Honestly, it was rare for the unfiltered light of the twin suns to reach the skin of a resident of the Citadel. Not with the great dome of the Tertiary Quantum Shield enclosing the city, anyway. ONly those frequencies deemed 'healthy' or merely 'innocuous' made it through the seemingly transparent shield. But the illusion was maintained, as long as you didn't think too hard about the fact that you could stare right at the two suns as long as you could desire, without damaging your eyes.

The great city flowed downwards from the Panopticon - that great fortress-city that most offworlders think of as the entirety of the Citadel. A spider's web of roads and walkways connected mighty buildings, built to a colossal scale and each larger within than without. Every structure was unique, beautiful in a manner that no earthly skill could duplicate, and still contributing to the greater beauty of the whole.

There was a reason, after all, that Gallifrey was known as 'the shining world of the seven systems'.

"This way, Lady Clarissa," the Corsair said, gesturing downhill. "Lord Florian's may be found in the Diamond Ziggaurat, across the Thirteen-Shadowed Thoroughfare of Resplendence from the Cruciform."

After a few minutes, she broached the question that was clearly on her mind. "So, I have a problem... I was wondering, if maybe you could assist."

The Corsiar smiled. "Lady Clarissa, that would depend entirely on the nature of the model of TARDIS you wish to steal."

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Clarissa liked him. He knew how to respond with charm and wit, and had the intelligence and devilish looks to back it up. But, affection was not something she had for the man. In truth, she simply wasn't interested in his type. It was simply business.

And then, there he was, showing off that intelligence and wit. "Honestly? Type 40 wouldn't be that bad... I actually helped the Doctor pick the one he stole. I'd already had my eye on one, and then the Doctor came through. Thought I might help him along." She'd been watching it for weeks, before the Doctor came along. As much as she had wanted it for herself, there was just this feeling she had. Like he needed it more than she did.

"But, if you have a personal opinion, I wouldn't mind hearing it."

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The Corsiar smiled. "Lady Clarissa, that would depend entirely on the nature of the model of TARDIS you wish to steal."

"Honestly?" the Lady Clarissa responded, giving him a touch of an impish grin.

"Ah, honesty," he replied with the same sort of grin. "I rather suspect that honesty has very little to do with the..." here he glanced around, "entirely hypothetical conversation we are having."

"Type 40 wouldn't be that bad..."

"Really?" The Corsair displayed a world of surprise in that one word and a single arched eyebrow. "The TT-40 series are relics. Museum pieces, those that aren't scheduled for decommissioning." Then he paused in thought. "Of course... that might make it easier. Hypothetically, of course."

"I actually helped the Doctor pick the one he stole. I'd already had my eye on one, and then the Doctor came through. Thought I might help him along."

"Are you mad?" he said, whirling on her. He forced himself to keep his body language calm, so that a casual observer would suspect no more than a professional disagreement or a mild lover's spat. "Lady Clarissa," he murmured, voice pitched low, "the High Council is in an uproar over that theft. If the Citadel Guard suspected you had a hand in it, you could face a Grand Tribunal."

But his alarm faded as quickly as it had come, leaving a glint of mischief twinkling in his eyes. "Which only serves to make this more exciting, don't you agree?"

"But, if you have a personal opinion, I wouldn't mind hearing it."

Walking once more, he stroked his chin. "You'd want an older model, of course. The new TT-51s will be too closely watched. Perhaps a 44-series?" A shrug. "But, I'm partial. My TARDIS is a TT-44c, after all."

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44... That might work. As for facing a Grand Tribunal, Clarissa didn't rightly care. She wanted a TARDIS. Badly. She'd do anything to get a hold of one. And it did make things more exciting. Now there was an even higher chance of getting caught. There was an even higher chance of her regretting this for the rest of her life... And it tingled her from head to toe. "Now, hypothetically, with the improved security and such, how would you go about doing it?

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Walking once more, he stroked his chin. "You'd want an older model, of course. The new TT-51s will be too closely watched. Perhaps a 44-series?" A shrug. "But, I'm partial. My TARDIS is a TT-44c, after all."

She considered his suggestion, nodding slowly. "Now, hypothetically, with the improved security and such, how would you go about doing it?"

"How would I go about stealing a TARDIS?" he repeated aloud. "Hmm... it depends on what sort of time frame you have. For instance, let's say you're patient. That it won't bother you to put a century or two in. What you do is, you cultivate a patron and a respectable position in society. Drop a few hints to your patron that you are interested in a career in the Celestial Intervention Agency, or in the Diplomatic Corps." He smiled. "Then, when you get assigned to one of the services, simply take longer than anticipated returning to the Homeworld after any particular assignment."

His face assumed a mask of innocence. "Hypothetically, of course."

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Well, that was certainly a way to go about it... There was a very crucial flaw in this. Clarissa wasn't willing to wait around for a century or two. "Okay, how about, if, hypothetically, I'm not patient. If I was one of the most impatient person in the galaxy, what would be the best possible way to steal a TARDIS in a... minimum of one day, maximum of two weeks? Hypothetically, of course?"

It was all hypothetical of course. They could run hypotheticals of destroying the universe. It didn't mean they'd act on it. Just in case anyone happened to be listening.

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Lady Clarissa considered his plan - which had worked quite well, if the Corsair said so himself - for a moment. "Okay, how about, if, hypothetically, I'm not patient. If I was one of the most impatient person in the galaxy, what would be the best possible way to steal a TARDIS in a... minimum of one day, maximum of two weeks? Hypothetically, of course?"

"Oh, well, in the case of impatience my plans would change substantially." He smiled a little. "I would instead befriend someone who already has access to the model of TARDIS I wished to obtain. Preferably, that someone would be find my face and form quite lovely and consider my company extremely pleasureable. I would then persuade them, through gentle flirtations and longing glances and subtle hints, to take me on a small voyage through the Spiral Politic."

He clasped his hands behind his back, and smiled a little. "Then, having achieved my purely hypothetical goal, I should ask myself: 'do I find the company of the pilot of this TARDIS agreeable?' And if I found that I did, why, I would persuade him - or, as the case may be, her - to accompany me. And if I did not? Why then, I would find some pretext to land on a civilized world and depart alone with the TARDIS, allowning my erstwhile pilot to make her - or as the case may be, his - way back to the Homeworld." A pause. "Hypothetically."

He walked in silence for a full minute, face held carefully straight. "Now I will point out that this hypothetical plan has certain... difficulties. The only TT-44c pilot I know well is certainly amenible to persuasions by a raven-haired goddess with the voice of an angel, but I believe he also enjoys his luxuries on the Homeworld too much to abandon it permanently and the company of his TARDIS far too much to be easily persuaded to remain behind while it departs."

The Corsair winked at Clarissa. "I believe, therefore, we should consider an alternative hypothetical scenario. But look, we have come to the Diamond Ziggurat!"

The structure in question was a stepped pyramid nearly a kilometer wide at the base and rising some seven hundred meters into the air, built of crystal megaliths and transparent fields of force and buttresses of brilliant silvery metal. "Perhaps a light supper, and a bowl or two of fijoun, will inspire us."