"Here we go again, brother", Theta said, foot on the edge of their newest battlefield. The Dalek forces had been pushed back almost across the star-system, but there was still a fair way to go. Koschei shrugged, the drumbeat eating into his subconscious like some sort of parasite. They both gripped their weapons slightly tighter, feeling nervousness tinge every breath they took. Theta had been fighting for a long time, and at the age of 93, had become quite a prized asset in Gallifrey's army, despite his youth. Koschei on the other hand was more a madman rather than a fighter. But they still both dreamed of the stars above, what was beyond the daily bloodbaths and suffering.

The whistle shrilled out for them to charge the opposition, a dormant Dalek camp that had been throwing off all sorts of rogue Dalekanium energy pulses since the war began. But they had never been able to get close enough to find out what it was. Theta ran ahead, his spear out in front of him like a knight riding into a joust. Every soldier in the Gallifreyan army had three weapons given to them as soon as they signed their military contract: a spear, Mercy gun and Azgora blade. Every Azgora blade had its own conscience, stopping the user from killing unfairly, and every one was named. Theta's was named Pravda, an ancient Gallifreyan word for justice, while Koschei's was named Bloedlus, meaning bloodlust. The blade was a dull silver that was engraved with the name and the phrase "Men oxirigacha kurashadi", 'I will fight until the end'. The handle was a pale burgundy leather, bound with string.

Koschei's main weapon of choice was his Mercy gun. They were small and golden shaped machines that were very difficult to destroy, so made the perfect handheld weapon for war. For the usual soldier the first bullet shot would just disable the enemy, the next would kill them. It gave them time to think whether their victim wasn't worthy enough to live. But he had found a way to bypass the stun system, so the first shot always killed.

The scouting battles never lasted very long, all of Gallifrey's forces were protecting the Citadel. Rumours were spreading across the galaxy that the Daleks were planning to attack as soon as their defences were weak. The camp was completely empty, not a Dalek in sight, so the small scouting group went home, maybe slightly disappointed not to be with the adrenaline of blood. Koschei did feel something was wrong with the camp, the energy figures just didn't add up, but kept it to himself.

"Another great battle, my friend", Theta said as he threw his weapons on his bed. They had taken up residence in one of the military dormitories near the edge of the Citadel. It was comfortable, but simple. It had deep red walls, the colour of Gallifreyan armour, and the floor was wooden, covered with a Gaoi beast hide.

"If you can call it a battle. There's something not right about that camp. It just doesn't make sense".

"I'm sure there's nothing to worry about, the Council always help out".

"Like they did with me?" Theta sighed.

"I'm sure we've had this conversation before Koschei. The drums will go, they are just... metamorphosing".

"I need a walk", he said, grabbing his jacket off his bed and heading for the door.

"Let me come", he replied. "What? I like to see the stars".

"You spaceman you".

"Never know. Maybe one day".