The evening had started badly for Wayne and then got worse.
Firstly, the contact he'd made a month ago in the munitions industry on Munoz-6 and arranged to meet in one of the lower bars on campus early on in the evening turned out to be an undercover military cop who, rather irritatingly, was more interested in running up a bar tab at Wayne's expense than arresting him. There were plenty of other munitions industries, and plenty of other contacts to make, but it irritated Wayne that he hadn't spotted the man for what he was to begin with.
Secondly, he'd had to endure an excruciatingly dull faculty dinner in the company of some of the worst dullards in the department. He'd only agreed to come along believing it would be an opportunity to wine and dine with Benny, but she hadn't turned up as she'd promised - like she'd done on the last three dates they'd arranged. So he had to endure several tedious hours in conversation about Tythonian brass-rubbing, the department's new policy on waste paper reclamation, about how new undergrads had it so lucky these days, what with easier access to grants, ready made accommodation secure enough to resist even a Dalek invasion, cheap beer in the bars... blah blah blah...
So Wayne staggered back to his room full of dark thoughts about the members of the Faculty and their catering division, blissfully unaware that the third cause behind his lamentable night was waiting for him back in his room.
He fumbled for his keycard, swiped once at the entry slide, missed, steadied himself, re-aimed, swiped again, and kicked open the door to his room, stumbling into the welcoming gloom within. Twelve hours sleep followed by a long cool shower, a huge breakfast, then maybe a day at one of Dellah's answers to sporting magnificence. Preferably somewhere involving a little bloodshed.
He grinned, perking up a little at the thought. "Ah, the hard life of a penniless stude..."
He was three paces into the room and the door had closed before he realised he was not alone.
"Hellfire!" he exclaimed, finally noticing the shadowy figure seated in the battered old easy chair beside his bed. He jerked a hand up and into his jacket, groping for the weapon concealed there.
"Good evening, Mr Wayne," said a deep, authoritative voice. The figure reached a hand across to the nightstand and touched the light control, the bedside glow lamp fading up to reveal the man sitting there fully.
Wayne stopped reaching for his weapon, and tried to relax, heart thumping in his chest. "Mr Malachi," he sighed. "I do wish you wouldn't do this."
The deputy chief of the Time Lord Temporal Crimes Division blinked slowly, gaunt face betraying only slight amusement at the discomfort he'd caused.
"I felt it best if I let myself in, Mr Wayne. I had no desire to lurk outside in the corridor for all your student friends to see."
There was a mild note of contempt in Malachi's voice, but Wayne had long since learned to ignore it. Malachi was generally contemptuous of everyone and everything, especially non-Gallifreyans. But he couldn't resist the odd attempt to bait the man. You could learn a lot from a person by their anger, and what angered them.
Wayne shrugged out of his suit jacket and tossed it casually towards the bed. It missed and fell in a heap on the floor. He ignored it. "I don't have any student friends, Mr Malachi, and it seems to me that if anyone knows anything about how to lurk, it's you."
The corners of Malachi's mouth twitched downwards fractionally - a bad sign. Malachi evidently wasn't in the mood for baiting, which told Wayne a lot.
"Shadows can conceal much, Mr Wayne. Especially bodies." He leaned forward slightly. "Any bodies."
Wayne unknotted his tie with some difficulty and tossed that aside too. He kept his tone light and breezy, slurred his words slightly, though that wasn't difficult. Drunkenness could be an effective shield sometimes. "As threats go, that's not up to your usual standard, Mr. M."
Malachi leaned back again. "Perhaps I'm tired. And you can drop the drunk act."
"It's no act," Wayne protested feebly, and that was half-true. He slumped into the chair opposite his study desk. "Seven courses I've had to sit through, with a different wine at each... practically two glasses every time." He took his head in his hands delicately. "Not exactly good vintages either," he groaned.
A flicker of disgust crossed Malachi's face. "I don't know how you can stand to consume so much."
Wayne looked up and grinned. "Generally I don't. Usually after such functions I repair behind the bushes outside Sheckley House and..."
Malachi held up a hand, shuddering. "Spare me the graphic details."
Wayne chuckled. "It's no wonder their hydrangeas aren't growing..." He stopped laughing suddenly. If it really was damaging the plants, what was it doing to his innards?
Malachi fixed him with a cold expression. "If you please, Mr Wayne. I did not come here to discuss your digestive processes nor the state of the College gardens. There is a rather more pressing matter that requires your attention. Your immediate attention," he stressed.
"Figures," Wayne mumbled, starting to tug off his shoes. "What do you want me to reclaim now?"
"Not a what. A whom."
Wayne stopped tugging at his left foot and looked up. "What? Whom?"
Malachi reached into his dark robes and produced a small data monitor, tossed it across the room to Wayne, who caught it deftly despite his delicate condition.
"A young Time Lady from a very well respected House has been kidnapped by a vicious alien warlord whilst on a field trip in the Hesperon sector some five hours ago."
"Vicious?" Wayne frowned. That had never been one of his favourite words, even applied to himself. "How vicious?"
"Vicious enough. You'll find a complete bio on the monitor."
Wayne fiddled with the device, trying to activate it and getting little success. Why did the Time Lords have to make their devices so user un-friendly? "Hesperon, you say? I thought I knew all the despots and maniacs in that region..." Wayne looked up at Malachi suddenly. "Say, Hesperon's not far from here, give or take a dozen light years..." He smirked at Malachi. "Isn't that a coincidence?"
Malachi dismissed the point with a flick of his hand. "That's scarcely relevant. What is, is that I require you to retrieve the Lady Veronysia and return her safely to her rightful home."
"Ahhh, a rescue mission..."
The monitor activated suddenly under his fiddling and a picture formed on its surface. Wayne suddenly forgot about being drunk.
It showed a glorious looking young woman who looked about early to mid twenties, though she was probably 90-odd. Dark honey-blonde hair tumbled down across a delicate, well formed heart-shaped face, with a full mouth, high cheekbones, dark green eyes with a hint of mischief about them... the haughtiness and arrogance usually typical of a Time Lady wasn't quite so apparent in that face, and that appealed to him in particular.
"Not bad..." Wayne murmured admiringly. Malachi overheard him and the temperature cooled another few degrees in the room.
"If you could tear your attention away from her physical attributes for just one moment..."
"What's her name again?"
"The Lady Veronysiafortramahaylia."
"In English, please..."
Malachi sighed. "Veronysia is the preferred shortened term. Though I would prefer it if you would address her simply as My Lady."
Wayne tore his attention away from her and looked up and winked at Malachi. "My Lady? Y'know, looking at her, I'm sorely tempted so to make her..."
Malachi stiffened, eyes flashing with cold anger. Wayne knew that would make him bridle. Malachi loathed any form of familiarity between his race and any other species. Even in jest.
But perhaps this time there was more to it than just that...
"Mr Wayne, the Lady Veronysia is a high-born Time Lady with a long and glittering career at the very pinnacle of Time Lord society and government in store for her. She will not be sullied, in any way, through excessive contact with..." and he grimaced slightly, "outside influences. Of any kind. Do I make myself clear?"
Wayne held up his hands. "Crystal, Mr M. I know that such a sophisticated and highly advanced young woman like this would never fall for a backward troglodyte like me." He smiled sweetly. "I can assure you she's quite safe."
"That's just it," Malachi snapped, "she isn't, which is why I require you to retrieve her."
"I think I prefer the word rescue to retrieve. A bit more personal, like."
"I do not want you to make this personal, Mr Wayne."
"You seem to be taking it a bit that way..."
Malachi shifted a fraction in his seat. "As I explained, the Lady Veronysia is from a very influential family... whose power extends throughout Gallifreyan government and society." He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "I have no personal interest in the Lady Veronysia, if that is what you are attempting to infer."
That idea amused Wayne no end, but he didn't let it show. Though there was more than a hint of scepticism in his reply. "I'm quite sure you haven't... it's the good name of the family you're more interested in, right?"
"Don't be insolent," snapped Malachi coldly.
Wayne shrugged. "I just like to know the full facts behind all my missions... why I'm doing it, for whom... and what's likely to happen when I get it done. To say nothing of what might happen if anything goes wrong..."
"You had better make sure nothing does go wrong, Mr Wayne. For your sake."
"And for yours?"
Malachi considered carefully before answering. "My career... my current career... would not suffer much. But I have no desire to earn this family's enmity." He leaned forward. "And neither should you," he warned.
"But if I... we... pull it off..."
"Then they will be grateful. I will be grateful."
"How grateful?"
Malachi settled back again. "Complete the mission to my satisfaction and you'll discover."
"Ah huh..." Wayne looked back down at the monitor, mind racing. This could be a big thing, for both of them. But clearly it meant more to Malachi. The man was obviously ruthlessly ambitious, and saw appeasing this family as a way of gaining a rise in his status... and possibly a rapid rise at that.
This could be the making of his career, Wayne considered thoughtfully. Or the breaking of it. And he's relying on me to help him... a mistake? Or does he really trust me? He glanced at the man, trying to weigh him up, but he remained coldly inscrutable as always. Wayne shook his head slightly. No, he didn't quite believe either of those questions. Malachi wasn't that stupid, for all his flaws.
But neither was he. Something more than met the eye was going on here...
"Why do you need me? Why can't you rescue her?"
"Observe the information on the monitor. The warlord in possession of the Lady Veronysia has considerable technological resources, including temporal scanners. He would detect the landing of a TT capsule or agents with Time Rings within 10,000 spatials of his location."
"Temporal scanners? Wow..." Wayne flicked through the information, saw that that was true. "Y'know, machinery like that doesn't crawl out of an ore refinery..."
"That is not your concern."
"It is if it's gonna hamper my mission..."
"Just concern yourself with recovering the hostage. Any and all subsequent investigation will be performed by my people."
Wayne knew definitely then that the Time Lord was hiding something, but that fact didn't exactly surprise him. He decided to let the matter drop - for now.
"Fair enough. Is this the guy?"
The monitor showed the picture of a tall bearded man in his early thirties. He was olive-skinned, muscular and handsome in a rugged sort of way with an air of authority and command apparent even in the scanner image.
"Arran Sayde. Yes, his forces currently hold the Lady Veronysia captive."
"I've never heard of him..."
"He's new," explained Malachi simply. "But dangerous, nonetheless."
"Oh, nonetheless!" Wayne snorted. He read from the display. "A former Terran Spacefleet officer, disenchanted with his lot, who quit the service and took off into depths of unexplored space to seek his fortune... yeah, I know the type." The screen went from his former career to his present status. Wayne whistled. "But he evidently made more of a success of it!"
"Evidently, as the report states."
"Commanding a force of over 200,000 men and two dozen starships of varying sizes and degrees of formidability across three planetoids... that's success!"
"All of which gained through conquest and bloodshed," added Malachi darkly.
Wayne pulled a wry face. "Is there any other way?"
Malachi chose to ignore the question. "Sayde established a foothold on one of the planetoids and then launched an attack - an unprovoked attack - on the governing force in that area."
Wayne nodded slowly. "The Ferata Syndicate... they have bases in the Hesperon system."
"Had," Malachi corrected.
"Not a nice bunch, the Ferata. A bit of a case of good riddance to bad rubbish."
"They're not terribly adept at combat, either, it seems. Sayde was allowed to build his initially ramshackle force - a handful of like-minded mercenaries at best - into a competent fighting force and was able to clear the Ferata from the system within three months, capturing a large proportion of their arms, ships, and facilities intact into the bargain. Including, it seems, some temporal scanners."
"Stolen, probably. The Ferata are essentially criminals, bandits at best. Not warriors. They tend to get other people to do their serious fighting." Not unlike a certain species he could think of, whose representative was sitting not a million miles away from him...
"Not the local populace, it seems. Sayde was able to rally the people behind him. That's how his force grew so large."
"Oh, dangerous and popular..."
Malachi raised an eyebrow. "That's a matter of opinion..."
"That's a matter for concern. If Sayde has got the people behind him, we can rule out any assistance from that quarter, and some pretty hefty defiance."
"You can," agreed Malachi.
"Great," muttered Wayne.
"But you're not looking to overthrow him. We simply want you to rescue the Lady Veronysia." He leaned forward deliberately. "All other considerations are rescinded..."
Wayne sat back in his chair and nodded slowly. That last statement inferred that the Time Lords didn't care about the body count. This really was serious...
And very intriguing.
"Won't be easy..."
Malachi nodded. "A fair assumption."
"Can't do this one solo..."
Malachi nodded again, almost approvingly. "I concur."
"So I'll need a crew."
"I judged you would. How many?"
Wayne thought for a moment. "Two... no, three."
Malachi raised an eyebrow. "No more?"
"Quiet mission like this..." he chuckled ruefully. "No, any more and it gets complicated. I've always preferred, when I'm not working solo, to go in quartet."
Malachi's face twisted into a smile. "With you as leader, no doubt..."
Wayne spread his hands. "Hey, I'm the only leader I trust."
The Time Lord let the issue drop. "Who do you require?"
Wayne stared at him for a moment. "You can get whoever I want?"
"Within reason."
"They won't come cheap," he warned.
Malachi rolled his eyes. "I think we can meet their price, Mr Wayne."
Wayne snatched a figure from the air to test his claim. "Like say... a million standard?"
The Time Lord snorted almost contemptuously. "I'm sure that's within our boundary..."
"And of course, I'll be commanding my usual fee..."
"Yes, yes," Malachi snapped irritably. "Now, who do you need?"
"Okay. Let me see..." Wayne pulled a data pad and stylus towards him and began to jot names down. This needed careful thought. The whole situation needed careful thought...
Wayne had discovered early on that Malachi held little regard for material wealth. What Wayne asked for, he generally got - so long as he performed the job. In that respect, he and his previous employer were quite similar. Lavarre had always been free with his resources, as well as rewards, but he had been pretty free with his wraith as well. Wayne didn't doubt Malachi was a formidable force when angered - he was pretty formidable when calm - but the two men were different in most other respects.
Except when it came to the money. Both were free with it and seemed to have an almost bottomless supply, which suited Wayne down to the ground. Wayne had a healthy appreciation for wealth, and the acquisition of it. He'd learnt a long time ago that wealth equalled power, and power equalled security, and in a universe as hostile and unfeeling as this, one needed all the security one could get.
The fact that the methods he employed to gain this wealth, and therefore security, were no less hostile or unfeeling than the universe he existed in didn't trouble Wayne's conscience at all.
For Wayne had also learnt a long time ago that it didn't pay to have a conscience. Especially not in his line of work.
Which was possibly why Malachi - and formerly Lavarre and his previous employers before that - had chosen to employ him. And why Wayne had decided to throw in his lot with him. He simply didn't care how Wayne did the job so long as he got it done. There was the usual case of no questions asked but Wayne was also used to that.
Malachi didn't disguise his mistrust as well as Lavarre, but then Lavarre had had centuries of practice and was barking mad into the bargain. That made the difference. Wayne enjoyed the danger of what he did - it was, to all intents and purposes, his principle motivation behind what he did - but Wayne had come to realise by the end that remaining among Lavarre's nest of vipers was more suicidal than dangerous, and Wayne didn't believe in suicide. You could never be sure when Lavarre would turn on you, and for the slightest of reasons. Fear of Lavarre (and fear didn't come easy to Wayne) initially kept him keen, obedient even, but after a while he found it was beginning to blunt his abilities. His failure on his last mission for Lavarre was surely proof of that. He wouldn't have attempted to rebel, like Lucylla had, but he would have run. And he'd do the same in any situation when the time came. He had done in the past.
He didn't have that feeling with Malachi - yet. Malachi was no less as scary as Lavarre, but it was easier to relate to someone who made no attempt to hide their dislike of you. Wayne knew where he stood, for the moment at least. And Malachi hadn't yet shown any sadistic tendencies. He was cold, and ruthless, a bully even, but not unreasoning. He was too cautious for that. Wary, even. Wayne was in no doubt that Malachi regarded him as an inferior but he felt this was tempered by his knowledge of Wayne's past and who he'd served for. Wayne hadn't worked for Lavarre as long as some but he was one of barely half a dozen survivors when that little empire came crashing down.
And that gave Wayne an edge. He knew he wasn't going to be discarded casually, like so many of Lavarre's little friends in the past had been. Wayne had no doubt that failure in his service would bring about punishment, but not on the scale Lavarre committed, or for the pettiest of reasons. So he hoped.
He paused, a thought emerging during his reflections, then looked round at the Time Lord hopefully.
"I suppose getting any of my old mates left over from Lavarre's group is out of the question?"
Malachi nodded firmly. "Totally."
Wayne sighed, and crossed some names out. "That lets out Hayzel and Chlorys then... okay, alternatives..."
He spent nearly five minutes writing, and then another five going down the list and crossing names off. Malachi entertained himself by flicking through one of Wayne's archaeology texts, and every now and again the Time Lord snorted at something and could be heard to mutter "Well, that's wrong... that's not right... that didn't happen..."
Finally Wayne stopped, drew rings around the three remaining names, and pressed a key. The pad chirped and began to download the full biographic details of each subject. Wayne passed the device across to the Time Lord.
"All done," he smiled. "I think these'll do."
Malachi considered each one carefully. "Hmmm... I'm unfamiliar with this woman, Lauren."
"Best pilot in the system. Good fighter too. Tailor made situation for her, quite literally, as you can see from her stats..."
Malachi nodded as he noted the woman's rather unique capabilities. "She is reliable? One hears so many stories about her particular breed..."
"She's a bit of an individual, but totally reliable, take my word."
"Hmmm... the second one, well... an unusual choice."
"Who, Big Al?" Wayne laughed. "He's great! Perfect for this job. You'll love him!"
Malachi frowned at him. "I'd rather prefer not to meet them..." He turned his attention to the third choice and his frown deepened into a scowl when he saw her face.
"Her?" he practically spat.
Wayne nodded slowly, watching the Time Lord carefully. "Yes. Her."
"Why?"
"As an equaliser."
"What?"
Wayne knew his third choice wasn't going to popular. "Look, Lauren and Big Al are specialists. Lauren is a pilot, Big Al is... well, demolitions. I need an all-rounder, and she's it. For a start, she's local, which means we don't have to go far to get her. Secondly, she's broadly experienced. I mean, she's done it all. Thirdly..." Wayne shrugged. "I like her."
"You know who she is connected with..."
"Oh yes," Wayne chuckled. "I know who!"
"That makes it dangerous. Too dangerous." Malachi shook his head. "We can't risk getting her involved if there's a chance he might get involved."
It intrigued Wayne as to why he was so bothered about this individual. He'd met the man only fleetingly during the last crazy hours of his employment in Lavarre's service, and he hadn't been able to fathom what the fuss was about this Doctor guy. Seemed like a decent enough old stick. But he doubted Malachi would be prepared to shed any more light on the matter, and he could never quite think of a way of broaching the subject with Bernice.
"I don't think that's likely. One, if the mission goes to plan..."
"If?" grated Malachi.
Wayne continued unabashed. "... We'll be out and clear before anyone knows about it, especially him. Secondly, she's independent, these days. They rarely see each other from the sound of things. She has no cause to tell him, at least, not from my perspective," he added slyly.
But Malachi didn't rise to the bait, and remained unimpressed. "That's besides the fact that barely six months ago you attempted to decapitate her," he sneered. "Hardly the best way to begin a stable working relationship."
Wayne had argued long and hard to be based on Dellah, with Malachi refusing on the grounds of the presence of the individual they were discussing. Wayne kept pointing out that Dellah was a good place to pick up information, among other things, and he'd worn the Time Lord down. But Malachi evidently still harboured doubts.
"Well, luckily for both us, I failed that time to succeed - for once," he added hastily. "And anyway, your brain-drain or whatever it was did a splendid job of removing all memory of that particular event - didn't it?"
"It didn't remove yours."
Wayne smiled wolfishly. "I'm rather glad you didn't."
Malachi cleared his throat irritably. "The fact remains..."
"The fact remains, I want her. I need her. And if she don't go, I don't go."
Wayne folded his arms and sat back defiantly.
"You'd disobey me?" asked Malachi disbelievingly. "Over her?"
"You want me to do the job, you gotta let me pick the team."
Malachi chewed his lip and considered.
"You'd watch her?"
"I watch everyone... especially her!" Wayne leered.
"I mean it."
"So do I. Look, don't worry. Once I've convinced her..."
"And how will you do that? I don't for one minute believe mere money will sway her."
Wayne just winked. "Leave that to me, eh?" Malachi looked like arguing further so he decided to move the conversation along. "How long will it take to get Big Al and Lauren?"
"An hour. No more, no less."
"Good." Wayne grabbed a post-it pad and scribbled something down, then stood up, holding out the piece of paper. "Send them along to me at this place. We can discuss the situation and work out a strategy from there."
Malachi stood up and took the note. "Very well. I don't need to remind you that time is of the essence..."
"You don't. Between the four of us, we should have a working operation planned within the hour. We can discuss equipment and transportation after that."
"We've already anticipated some of your requirements, but I'm sure anything else you may need we can obtain." Malachi moved to the door. "An hour, then."
"Yep."
Malachi paused in the doorway, turned round. He was still troubled by Wayne's third choice.
"I wish you would reconsider using her. There are... other factors that make her participation dangerous. Historical factors," he added darkly.
That's why I've picked her, Wayne thought. Or partly why. But he didn't want him to know that. "No. My mind is set."
"We can get you anyone else... mercenaries, thieves, specialists in every field..."
"No," replied Wayne firmly. "She goes, I go. She stays, I stay."
Malachi regarded him sullenly. "Supposing she says no?" he asked suddenly, and with more than a tinge of hope.
There was a wicked twinkle in Wayne's eye as he replied, closing the door on the Time Lord as he did so.
"Professor Bernice Summerfield never says no!"
***
"No, no, no, no, NO!"
It proved more difficult than Wayne had anticipated.
"C'mon Bernice, open the door."
"Push off! It's... cruk, it's 3.30 in the morning!"
"3.34 to be precise."
"Oh, is that all? Well, I'm precisely telling you to shove off!"
Wayne rested his forehead on the door and groaned inwardly. The woman had an irritating stubborn streak at times. "Oh, come on, please... open the door!"
"You're drunk!"
"Oh ho, and you're not, I suppose!"
"No I'm not! I've been up all night marking wretched assignments. Speaking of which, I haven't had yours yet. It was due in last Tuesday!"
"Actually it was due in last month. A bit behind, are you?"
"I've been busy!"
"And I know doing what... glug glug glug..."
"That's a rotten thing to say! I've hardly touched a drop all week, which is more than be said for someone else not a million miles from my door..."
"I'm a student. I'm supposed to consume large quantities of alcohol."
"Ahem, for the word large substitute vast..."
"What's the matter, don't you like the competition?"
"Why you..." she uttered a few choice Martian expletives and kicked the door a few times before yelling "Goodnight!"
He heard her moving away from the door and deeper into her room. Wayne cursed softly. Evidently she wasn't in the mood for playful banter. He'd have to try a different tack.
"Bernice, if I stay out here and hammer at your door long enough, everyone will hear. Including Anjanette. And you know what a terrible gossip she is..."
The door swung open and Benny grabbed his arm and pulled him in, closing it behind him.
"No funny stuff," she warned. "I keep a vicious animal on the premises trained to attack unwelcome visitors."
Wayne cast an amused glance over at the vicious animal Benny alluded to. Wolsey the cat lay in a tight ball in Benny's comfiest armchair, sound asleep and not showing the slightest inclination to attack anything.
"What, that old thing?"
Benny noticed the direction of his gaze and frowned. "He's just, er, resting. Really he's poised for action at a seconds notice."
"I doubt Wolsey has ever been poised to do anything at a seconds notice, Least of all anything active!"
Benny pulled a face and crossed the room to the chair, reaching down to stroke the animal. It purred and stretched slightly in response to her touch.
"He caught a spider the other day. Big one too!" she said defensively.
"Well, that's more than I would have done... I hate the buggers."
Wayne dropped into an empty chair and looked around him. Benny's room was in its usual state of organised chaos, not unlike its resident, who was bare-foot and wearing a tattered old bathrobe over a pair of faded black jeans and a crumb-flecked black t-shirt bearing the word 'Plasticine' in letters made to look as they comprised from cut-out newsprint. He hadn't the faintest idea what it meant, though doubtless it advertised something. Beer, probably.
She looked tired and drawn and her eyes were bloodshot, but more through lack of sleep than alcohol, and he couldn't detect the aroma of spirits in the air. There was a crumpled gaudy red can lying near an overflowing wastebin that bore the logo TIZER but he couldn't tell whether it was an alcoholic beverage or not; if it was, it was a brew he'd never heard of.
A large mug was sitting on her desk, but the vapour curling up from it hinted at strong black coffee rather than anything more potent. The glow globe above the desk burnt softly over a heap of papers on which rested a large red marker pen. Perhaps she was telling the truth after all.
Benny turned away from Wolsey and stared at him suspiciously across the room, arms folded. "You didn't come banging on my door at this hour to discuss your arachnophobia, did you? Or is there one scuttling about your bath that you want Auntie Benny to come and remove?"
"You're more than welcome to come and visit my bath any time you like," he smirked.
She made a play of sniffing the air around him and pulled a face. "Which is more, I dare say, than you do."
"It's not exactly redolent of a flowery dell in here either."
"The window is stuck, and anyway, there's too much noise in the quad these days, hardly hear myself think sometimes."
Wayne smiled ironically. "Damn students, carousing all night long..."
"Not carousing in the way you're oh so familiar with. There's a group of Betelguesian carollers who seem to like using that area to practice. Apparently the acoustics are better there."
"That's outrageous. I'd complain."
"I did. I then received a visit from an officer of the Species Relations Board and was told in no uncertain terms to be less intolerant." She jabbed a thumb at her chest. "Me, intolerant!"
He affected a wide-eyed look of astonishment. "Never..."
She glowered at him for a moment, the added: "But I get my own back. I blast Jim Reeves at full volume through the windows."
"Does that work?"
She tugged at her lower lip. "I don't know. They seem to join in whenever Magic Moments starts up. It's an unholy enough noise even when unaccompanied. Wolsey hates it. I may have to switch to Dire Straits or Status Quo."
Wayne shuddered. Of the many disagreeable aspects of 20th century Terra, its music was certainly one of the worst. "Anyway, getting back to why I'm here..."
Benny glanced pointedly at the chronometer glowing on her desk. "If you would. I have a lecture on Frinzalian marble to give at 9.30 and I'd rather like some sleep before then. So please, I'm all ears to hear a valid reason for this inexcusable intrusion into my valuable working time!"
"But of course..." Wayne leaned forward. "A job has come my way that I'd like your assistance with."
"Job? You?" she laughed. "Can't be tending bar, not with your reputation... let me guess, a paper round? Tele sales?" She snapped her fingers. "Got it! You've become a gigolo!"
"And how," he couldn't help but giggle, "do you think you can propose to help me if I had?"
"I dunno... perhaps you want me to hold your coat. Or count the money, in case they short change you."
"Ahhh, I see... I thought perhaps you were wishing to participate as well!" He grinned. "I always thought you and Anjanette were more than just friends..."
"Don't be disgusting. Anjanette has a lot better taste, and that includes in men," she added meaningfully. Then she grinned wickedly. "I'd go so far as to say that, given the choice between you and any female on the planet..."
Wayne played along again. "Including the non-humanoid ones?"
"Especially the non-humanoid ones!"
He affected a hurt look. "I'm gravely insulted."
"Enough to leave?" she asked hopefully.
"Not quite."
"Cobblers." Benny sank down onto the chair opposite her desk. "Well, what do you want then?"
"Your help, like I said."
"Doing what?"
Wayne paused for a moment, then reached into his jacket and pulled something out, tossing it onto her desk.
Benny blinked at the object in stunned silence for a moment.
"Recognise it?" Wayne asked.
"Oh yes," she murmured, picking up her marking pen and prodding the object with it gingerly. "I certainly do. The question is," and she looked up at him sternly, "where did you get it?"
"I was given it, not ten minutes ago."
"By whom?"
"By a Time Lord. Who else would one get a Time Ring from?"
"Who indeed..." Benny tapped her lips with the marker pen and stared down at the ornate brass-coloured bracelet before her. "You're not one of them, are you, Wayne?" she asked as casually as she could.
He smiled. "I am not, no." He tapped his chest. "One heart, remember?"
Benny cleared her throat, and Wayne was convinced she was blushing slightly. "But I presume you work for them then."
"On occasion."
She narrowed her eyes. "I thought there was more to you than met the eye... duffing up Sontarans, skipping lectures and disappearing off on mysterious errands... and as for some of the people you've been seen around town with, well..."
"Oh, I'm full of surprises..." he winked.
"I think I could do with a few less surprises in my life at the moment," she declared softly, regarding the Time Ring as if some form of stinging insect had landed on her desk. "Especially ones like this..."
"I thought you got on well with Time Lords..."
"Did you?" Benny stood up, picked up her mug and marched across the room to where an old-fashioned chrome coffee maker sat on a small steel file cabinet. She topped the mug up but didn't offer him one. "I don't know where you got that idea from..." she said, taking a sip.
"From my Time Lord, actually. In fact, it was him who told me who you were, and I followed you to Dellah." That was a slight untruth, he knew; he'd got this information from two Time Lords. Lavarre had put him on her trail to begin with and Malachi had agreed - albeit reluctantly - to allow him to use Dellah as a base. But the less she knew - especially about Lavarre - the better.
Benny turned around, gazing at him coldly over the brim of her mug. "Followed me? I have to say, I find that mildly alarming..."
Wayne pretended to look astonished. "Don't say you never been followed by a man before!"
She snorted. "Oh yes... I've been pursued by the odd - very odd - fan and the odd lovelorn undergrad, but stalked... never."
"I'm not stalking you."
"So you say."
Wayne sighed. He sensed a lengthy argument brewing and didn't have the time or the inclination. "Look, cut a long story short... I know who you are, and who you've come in contact with." He held up a hand before she could retort. "But that's not the principle reason why I came here."
"No? Not sent by the Time Lords to keep an eye on me, hmmm?"
"That's paranoid."
"In this day and age, it pays to be."
"I'm not here to spy on you. I'm just here, well, as a matter of... convenience. You know Dellah is a good place to get among things, pick things up." He gave her a measuring look. "Isn't that why you came here?"
She blinked, clearly irritated by the question, and set her mug down with a thump. "I came here because I was offered a job!"
"Oh, nothing more than that, eh? And what about all your extra-curricular activities?"
"Some of them are not my fault! I just get... involved, from time to time."
"A bit like someone else we both know of..."
"Yeah," she scowled, "but he has nothing better to do than prowl the universe stirring up trouble." She waved around her. "I'm supposed to be doing a job here."
"Oh, that's neither here nor there."
"That's the trouble, I'm never here but always there!" Benny shut her eyes and controlled herself with visible effort. "Look, Wayne, I'm sure you're a nice enough bloke, but to be honest, I'm getting to the stage where I'd like a break from all this careering around time and space malarkey."
"Ah, you're just saying that!"
"No I'm not. I mean, look at this..." She gestured to her marking. "Some of that is over a month old. I'm supposed to have responsibilities here, and I'm not performing them." Her face fell a little. "I'm becoming a joke around campus."
"I'm not laughing."
"You're never around to hear the jokes!" She shook her head. "It's time I put a little more back into this place, and stop faffing around getting into ridiculous situations. Especially ones involving the Time Lords." She fixed him with a serious look. "And if you've got any sense, you'll stick clear of them as well."
He shook his head. "I do the odd job for them, no more than that. And they pay extremely well."
She looked disappointed. "Oh no, don't tell me you're just in it for the money!"
"Isn't everyone?" he grinned.
"I'm not."
"It's not just money, Bernice. Wealth comes in many forms. You should appreciate that, as an archaeologist."
"As an archaeologist, I'm not interested in the monetary value of what I may uncover at all," she replied frostily. "And I sincerely trust that isn't the reason why decided to become an archaeologist."
"It isn't," he replied, looking at her with a knowing grin.
"It's just a cover, isn't it?" Benny laughed sarcastically. "Archaeology and Botany, yeah... you're no archaeologist, and you're certainly no botanist."
Wayne chuckled. "Well, you don't exactly look like any archaeologist I've ever met either!"
She jabbed a finger at him. "And flattery will get you nowhere."
"I'm totally sincere."
"You wouldn't know sincerity if it jumped up and bit you."
He sighed. This was going from bad to worse - again. If buttering her up wouldn't work, he'd have to try appealing to her better nature. Though he was beginning to suspect she didn't have one.
"What if I told you a young girl's life was at risk, and I need your help to save her?"
"Oh, so now you're telling me there's a humanitarian reason behind what you do?"
"That's generally why I do it," he replied heavily. Except I'm usually the one I'm looking to protect, he didn't add.
"Bullshit."
"No bullshit. Listen..."
