resort_link | [Video]

[...what in Rassilon's name...? How...? A "but you're dead!" is on the tip of his tongue, but he hasn't turned his comm on yet and he swallows the protestation and arranges his face to a perfectly blank expression. Time is relative and his "now" may not correspond to Wynter's "now."

Prepared, he turns on his comm.]

Castellan Wynter. Tell me, what were the temporal coordinates of the last time you were on Gallifrey.

[When are you from?]

[He just looks back at him. It doesn't qualify as 'staring' as there's blinking going on, but he obviously didn't expect to see him.

He can't escape, can he?]

Don't tell anyone about the Broken Man.

[He can have that, can't he? Narvin isn't likely to go 'poor Wynter' and if he's the only one to know, he's in the clear, right?

He rubs his fingers in doubt.]

...

[Well that answers one question.]

Very well.

[He says mildly, hiding behind calm tones while his thoughts scream over and over the bigger question, how are you alive.

It's a question he wants an answer to. And there are things about himself that he doesn't want spread about either, but he doesn't want to discuss them on the communications net.]

We should talk. In person.

[He doesn't respond to the very well beyond being relieved and nods to the suggestion.] Where?

The resort bar. [It's close, and large and quiet enough to find an out of the way corner, and people sit and chat there all the time--it won't draw suspicion.]

Fifteen microspans.

[Wynter honestly would have preferred more direct privacy, who knows what his emotional state would be like in this conversation (he's already bit tightly wound and his first conversation with Iris loomed in his mind. It hadn't gone well at all) but he realised Narvin probably knew the place better.] All right.

See you then.

[Wynter arrived precisely on time to the bar, looking around to see if Narvin had arrived.]

[Narvin arrives early for a reccie, making sure there aren't too many people, or any of the wrong kind of people who make a business of knowing other people's business. But it's as quiet and almost empty as he'd hoped. He claimed a booth in a corner, far away from the bartender and the door and with a good view of the whole room so he could see who comes and goes and who might be paying too close of attention.

When Wynter enters, he raises his arm to catch his attention.]

Over here, Castellan.

[Wynter went when summoned, vaguely wondering if he's now granted the rank of Castellan in perpetuity now that he's dead. The notion makes him giddy but he squelches it down as he sits across from the Coordinator, wishing this conversation already over.]

How have you been?

[A ridiculous question that almost makes him wince after he says it, but he realises it asks everything he wants to know: what did happen after he died and why was Narvin here.]

Not dead, so probably better than you. But only barely. [It hasn't been an easy few years.]

Which brings up the very pressing question: how are you alive?

[Clone? Impostor? Possessed by an incorporeal entity who healed his wounds and is using his corpse? Narvin can think of all kinds of unpleasant possible answers to his question.]

[Well, that wasn't comforting at all, was it?] I'm sorry to hear that.

[He stared at his hands while he gathered his thoughts and strength.] Well. While I was… comatose... I realised I was… able to think. Not. Not that I was too happy about that at the time. [His fists clenched before he forcibly spread them out.] And I realised there was someone there. I thought it was Pandora, but he, I think, had different… attitude.

He called himself 'The Admiral' and he told me he could bring me back to life, if I'd agree to rehabilitate someone for him. I didn't really trust him, but I wasn't exactly in a position to say no.

So I agreed. He realised my doubts and promised that he'd allow me life during my… mission, I suppose, and I could decide if I should return afterwards. Or whatever I wanted to do.

So I went to his ship and, from asking around, I got the sense he was a man of his word. But as time went on, and I was still not paired, that's how it works, on a one to one, I decided I needed more… life experience.

He agreed to let me come here. [So there you are.]

[It all sounds a bit strange and far-fatched... But on the other hand, a lot of things the Agency has dealt with sound strange and far-fetched until they happen. Anti-time. Pandora. The Axis. The Eminence.

This "Admiral" person could be some sort of powerful transtemporal entity. An Eternal or a Guardian.

He leans back in is chair. A spy or imposture would probably chose a more prosaic explanation, not something so peculiar and scarcely believable as being whisked away at the verge of death by an unknown and mysterious entity.

He decides to accept it.]

You'll be glad to know that Pandora was destroyed, thoroughly and utterly. And the virus has been dealt with. Captain Annos has been promoted to Castellan.

[That's certainly a lot brighter than Iris' admittedly second hand and patchy accounting of what occurred.]

He's a good man. [Well, he certainly doesn't hold any enmity against him and it's the thing to say.]

He acquitted himself well in the war against Pandora. [It's almost like agreement. He finds Annos a bit too moral and earnest for his taste--like most Chancellery Guards--but Annos did help save his life by carrying him across the Outlands to find medical aid, so Narvin has to like him a little bit for that.

He thinks of who else's fate Wynter might be interested in.]

Romana is president, and Leela is still with her. Valyes is Chancellor, unfortunately. We lost Braxiatel and Commander Hallan. Inquisitor Darkel is dead. As is Andred.

[Lost placed against dead would suggest that neither are dead.] Lost, how?

[He realises that he skipped over the mere fact of Darkel's death. He ought to be… relieved, glad, grateful. Vindicated. He wonders why he's not. Not feeling much regret either, but there should be a spark of something, right?]

Hallan was infected by Pandora and froze himself in stasis to prevent the virus from spreading to the President. And Braxiatel...he fell through a portal between dimensions. He's probably dead, or worse [drifting for eternity through nothingness], but we have no way of knowing his fate.

[His eyes broadened for a moment. 'You just left him there?'

He doesn't say as much, because he realises that he knows nothing of the virus. Was there no cure.]

Oh. I… see.

[No, not really. Narvin's reporting isn't exactly complete.] I'm sorry.

It had to be done. Hallan was going to set himself on fire otherwise, and Brax...

Well, he saved us. [It's odd, talking about Braxiatel and not saying something catty about him. But Brax is quite probably dead, so it seems disrespectful to speak ill of the probably deceased.]

I believe neither of them had any regrets. They sacrificed themselves for Romana. As we all do.

Well, for Gallifrey.

[He doesn't have anything against Romana, even using his last strength to warn her. But it wasn't for her. It was for everyone. Even Narvin, if only in a small way.]

Try not to follow in our footsteps. [It's a joke, sort of. It's certainly not spoken with any heat behind it. But. He does mean it. Don't get hurt, Narvin.]

[He waves his hand dismissively.]

Same thing. [A vast change from how Narvin used to feel about Romana.]

No need to worry about me. Unlike you Chancellery Guards I have a sense of self preservation.

Oh. [You getting a look that roughly translates to 'if poking you wasn't a social faux pas, I would be. If only to establish you were real.']

Well, it's part of the job description to put your preservation over mine. I think I'll worry regardless.

Speaking of job descriptions, I've told no one but Agent K about my previous occupation. I'd like to continue to keep it quiet. For some reason people tend to be a trifle suspicious of spies. Here, I'm just a technician.

I'm surprised you told K.

It wasn't my intention.

There were a series of bombing at the edge of the village. It turned out to be Creepers, but at the time we suspected terrorist attacks. I offered my assistance. [More like started forcibly thrusting his unwanted assistance upon them and was told by K that, as a civilian, he needed to back off.]

In the course of which, I had to explain to Agent K what exactly my background was and my professional experience with such things.

…oh. [Wynter may not exactly twig Narvin's decision to force his way anywhere, but…] You couldn't do that… ah, discreetly? [Isn't that what spies do?]

I suppose it's a bit small...? [He looks around, wondering if that's it.]

Agent K would have noticed my meddling, no matter how discreet. In a village like this you can't have two people investigating the same thing without them running into each other.

I didn't tell him initially, but eventually it grew prudent to do so to avoid becoming a prime suspect.

I suppose so. [Wynter isn't particularly attached to Narvin's secret, so debating further didn't seem worth it.]

I'm Agent K, current chief of import security.

You got your uniform and everything all squared away yet?

Agent K?

For the most part. [There's still this thing with Narvin to deal with.]

Force of habit. Chief K here. [Which still feels odd to say. He's never felt entirely at ease with a word like that, since there's so much riding on his morality and his choices.]

Alrighty. Well, come on in and we'll talk about some things, get you in order.

[He's noticing that thing with Narvin there, but he's guessing it's none of his damn business unless someone gets a black eye so he'll just keep quiet.]

Right. [Which doesn't answer his question, but he didn't actually ask his question, so he considers them even.]

I will report as soon as I'm ready.

[He makes that a promise with a nod before disconnecting.

When his meeting with Narvin is over, he's not exactly relaxed, but he turns up promptly. If he'd learned anything from his time in the Guard it's to turn up to meetings you've arranged come hell or high water.]

[Agent K's office is somewhere between quaint and clean and outright utilitarian. Everything is neatly organized. The desk and holographic computer seem lonely, and the stack of computerized tablets on it are lined perfectly. All the pens are properly placed in their pen holders and he's sitting there in his beige duds (which, strangely, feel more comfortable to him than the black suit sometimes because they remind him of his father) and black beret.]

[He looks up from reading something when Wynter comes in and stands and extends a hand.] It's a pleasure to meet you, Wynter. I still hope getting yourself situated is goin' pretty well.

[If the trappings, or lack thereof, would have pinged a human's interest, it was nothing unusual to Wynter. The only humans he'd met were on Gallifrey or on the Barge, and well, on the Barge, nobody could really be said to work.

When the hand is extended to him, it takes a beat before he remembers his training and clasps it.]

Thank you, sir. [He lets out a sigh.] It's... more complicated than I expected, but I seem to expecting the Simple Life wherever I go, so I imagine it's more my fault than anything.

I can pretty confidently say there's a lot less to saddle you up with than is back home.

[He smiles a little blandly at that- he wears a smile well, but he does it so rarely that it passes quickly.] So, yeah. We have a little bit of a problem- sorry to be dumpin' on you so quick, but I figured it'd be best to get it out of the way.

[Well, he's not wrong, so Wynter returns the smile.]

Oh, no. I'm happy to get going quickly. What is it?

We had somethin' happen a little bit ago. You might have heard about it- this place had technology called spawners. The spawners came into widespread use after the technology was adapted for domestic purposes. But there are still original examples of this tech throughout the planet, and some types of it don't work.

Someone turned on one of the spawners, that produced the skeletons you may or may not have been warned about. Someone that's an import. The problem is, we don't know who or why. At the very least they violated resort sanctioned areas. Charges can range from reckless endangerment and trespassing to first degree murder considering their intentions.

The bigger problem is some asshole leaked the info. There are some quiet rumors spreading, possibly getting exaggerated, but I want you to be on the lookout for the safety of your fellow officers and imports.

[He frowns thoughtfully. He doesn't want to assume to investigate, not on the first meeting anyway.]

You're worried they'll panic, or they'll try to use these other spawners for themselves?

More worried that they'll mistreat our people.

But if you find out anything, even for sure that someone didn't do it, let me know. Sooner or later this mess has gotta be figured out, and there's not that many of us still around.

If we can at least say it's not one of those that stayed, but one of those that went back home? We'll have some sorta resolution.

I'll certainly keep an eye out.

Thank you for that.

Think you'll be able to get yourself settled in pretty easy? Without too much worry about the local Gallifreyans that are still around? [Or from the import ones, for that matter.]

[Wynter honestly isn't certain about what K is trying to say.]

I have no enemies, if that's what you're asking.

[Considering Narvin seemed to have a hard time adjusting to the idea that Gallifreyans didn't have time travel here, he has to be sure.]

Sometimes it doesn't take enemies to feel uneasy. I thought I'd just check. You're dismissed, and good luck to you.

[Granted, it's a bit weird, but unlike Narvin, Wynter's job was more or less cause to effect and the only time where that wasn't the case, he was killed, so he's just going to ignore it.]

I suppose. And thank you, sir.

Security, huh. That makes both of us. Hope you're as good as you say you are.

[Boone doesn't assume anything based on how young someone looks. All he knows is they could use more people right now.]

I'm Boone. Patrol.

I have the experience to back it up. [He nods at the name.] Boone.

Experience helps. What kinda work did you do before you got here?

I was Castellan, in charge of, the Chancellory Guards. They're in charge of the security of the Capitol on my world.

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