Bride Quest

An adventure of the Fourth Doctor, Sarah Jane Smith and Harry Sullivan.

by Clive May (clive@cj4386.demon.co.uk)

The copy right of all things pertaining to the concept and characters of Dr
Who is the property of the BBC.  This story is a work of fan fiction; it has
been written simply for the pleasure it gave me in writing it; and no money
has or will change hands with respect to the story.

The story and original characters are copyright Clive May 2001.

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Thirteen

enmass, trapping the Khan's small group between the two furious forces.

"Doctor!  Do something!" Sarah screamed.  She ducked a wildly swinging sword,
and drove her shoulder into her attacker.  She straightened, hoisting the
surprised youth across her back.  He fell with a grunt on his head, and lay
still.

Harry hammered his fist into the face of another attacker, and swayed aside,
watching the man fall on his face.  Rubbing his abused knuckles, he stepped
over the prone form, grabbing the Doctor's sleeve.  "Doctor?  Do
something!.."

"I already have, Harry," the Doctor answered. "It'll need time for it to take
effect.  We've got to hold them off for a few..."

A man ran at the Doctor, waving a sword, and screaming a Drylander war cry.
The Doctor twisted aside with the grace of a dancer.  Three feet of razor
steel ripped through his belling coat.  He stepped in close, before the man
could recover his balance.  Grabbing hold of the man's other arm, the Doctor
pulled him inclose.  Spinning him about, he put a boot to the man's backside
and heaved him forcibly into another, who had Harry back peddaling madly.

The ring of steel around the Khan broke apart under the Drylander onslaught,
spilling Nylan and the Khan into the path of the two mobs of armed men.  The
Doctor swept up a pair of swords, and ran to their aid.  The two men were all
but surrounded, battling in desperation for their lives.  The Doctor hit the
Drylanders like a whirlwind of flashing steel,  his blades whistling as they
clove the air.  Grinning like a lunatic, he disarmed two men with consumate
ease.  The others fell back in dismay before the blistering, double-handed,
assault.

"Khan," he shouted over the noise.  "Khan!  This is useless.  We'll be cut to
pieces in a moment.  Youve got to talk to them.  Make them see sense.  Only
you can stop this madness."

The Khan acknowledged the Doctor's words with a little nod.  He sent the
sword of an opponent sppinning away, then risked a glance at the Doctor.
"They'll not be minded to listen to sense.  Not now.  Even if you could get
their attention.  Their blood's up - and no mistake!"

"I've fixed a little surprise to cool their blood," the Doctor shot back.
"But it needs a few minutes to work.  And you let me worry about getting
their attention.  Just be ready to talk when I make my move."

The Khan nodded his understanding.  Some of his body-guards, who had been
scattered by the weight of the Drylander charge, had gathered themselves and
now came back to the defence of their Lord with a will.  The Doctor pulled
back, and looked for his two companions.

"Harry!  Sarah!  Come on!" he shouted, and ran to where Demereen sat
oblivious to the mayhem, cradling the lolling head of Kulaan in her lap.  She
was pressing her red-soaked skirts to the wound in her love's body in a
futile attempt to staunch the flow.

"Shiv!" the Doctor cried, as he went to his knees beside the pair.  He
dropped the swords, and dragged Harry and Sarah down beside him.  "Shiv!  I
need you....Now!"

In a flicker of movement, the little woman was there. Her eyes wer wide, full
of a savage sadness at her impotence to prevent this senseless slaughter.

The Doctor draggd a metal ring from his coat pocket.

"What's that?" Harry inquired.  "Can you save the boy?"

The Doctor was acutely aware that Demereen was staring at him with a sudden,
unlooked for hope, in her brimming eyes.  All about them, madness
reigned. The clear ground where they knelt was quickly being eaten up by the
trampling feet of the struggling Clansmen.

"I don't know.  There's a chance.  But there's not much time - SHIV!  You
must help me now!  I can't do it without you!"

The little woman went to her knees beside him.  She looked into his face, her
expression questioning.  Then, as though stung, she jumped up, pulling away,
shaking her head emphatically.  "No!  You must not ask that of me.  The
temptation is too much. I have already ruined this world.  Please?  Do not
put that kind of power in my hands.....Please!"

"The boy is dying," the Doctor reminded her quietly.  "It is his only
chance."

The little woman hesitated, half risen.

"What is it?" Sarah demanded urgently.  "What are you going to do?"

Demereen's hand clutched at the arm of the Shivan.  The little woman
shuddered, and tried to pull away.  "Please?  Shiv?" Demereen pleaded in a
terrible voice.  "Please!"

The Shivan looked from Demereen, to Kulaan, to the Doctor, and to the
battling clansmen.  Her face was a contorting mask of anguished indecision.
Then, her expression cleared to serenity.  She gave a slight nod of her black
maned head, and fell back to her knees.  "It shall be!  Goddess preserve the
universe from me!  But it shall be!"

The Doctor held out the Time Ring.  "Everyone touch the ring." he commanded.
Many hands reached out, fingers curling about the metal band.  Power surged,
was channelled and directed by the Shivan and the Doctor working in tandem.
Rigid rules enforced by the Time Lords flexed, and bent to the Doctor's
desire.  The fabric of reality parted.

At the very last moment, the Doctor drew a small canister from his pocket.
He squeezed his thumb down on the top, before flinging it down on the ground.
With a thunderous roar, the firework erupted in to a halo of twinkling stars
and swirling coloured smoke.  The fighting stopped abruptly.  With all
attention focused on them, The translation took place.

Into the shocked stillness, the Khan's powerful voice called for parley.
Many heads jerked in his direction.  The men facing him, only feet away,
looked like they were still spoiling for a fight.  Their eyes were still
blazing with battle lust.  Undaunted by the danger, he strode into the
no-mans land that had opened between the two forces.  In the centre of the
cleared space, he stopped, and drove his sword into the earth.  Folding his
arms, he sent up a silent prayer to the Goddess that the Doctor knew what he
was about.

One man took a step towards him, raising his sword to strike.  The Khan made
no move to defend himself.  He inquired conversationally: "Will you not make
an end of this madness?"

From the river, the hoarse cry of a skulking crane rose.  The man, with sword
poised on high, paused, his nostrils flaring as he scented the air.
Suddenly, he grinned, lowered the sword, and asked: "Can you smell Vellas?
You know?  I'd swear I can smell the Medicine Tree?" He giggled, and tried to
sheathe his sword.  After three attempts, he gave up and stuck it in the
ground, almost slicing off a toe or two.  He held out a wavering hand, still
giggling, and said: "Kamlak Garan, Timber Wolf Clan."

The Khan went to shake, but missed the outstretched hand completely.  This
amused everyone mightily.

Up-wind of where the Khan stood, the Clansmen were falling about in
riotous merriment.  Women were being grabbed and whirled into impromptu
dancing.  Further up-wind still, the canisters of gas planted by
the Doctor continued to fizz their cargo of gas into the steadily blowing
Breath of the Holy Mother.

Some of those farthest away, were still spoiling for the fight; but they
could not make any headway through the press of their own Clansmen.  In a
very few minutes, the gas had reached them, and they too had fallen to
laughing and capering about under the light of the new risen sun.  A riotous,
impromptu festival was blossoming among the people of the Kulak.

So it was that, on a morning when the death of hundreds looked certain, more
than two dozen new lives were conceived in an excess of festival zeal,
brought on by the Doctor's machinations.

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The Doctor swept up the unconscious form of Kulaan, and flew from the console
room.  In his hearts, he knew it was too late.

The Shivan rose, looked around, her face alive.  She trotted quickly to the
console, and touched it.  Lights flickered on the board.  Placing both palms
flat on the top of the console, Shiv closed her eyes in concentration, and
exerted her will.  The Rotor began to rise and fall.  The time display
faltered.  The seconds went to 14, then to 15, flickered to 16, back to 15,
and froze there.  A grin of satisfaction lit the Shivan's sharp features.

Behind her, Sarah and Harry stalled in awkward attitudes, caught by the
time dam, in the act of rising.  Demereen still sat on the floor in a pool of
Kulaan's blood.

Shiv had completely forgotten them.  The contemplation of forbidden
possibilities was consuming her attention.  The light of an unholy glee was
shining in her face at this Goddess given chance to set the thing right, that
her indecision had so disastrously undone in the long ago.  It was the only
temptation that was bigger than her loving heart.

She gave in to it without a second thought.

Placing hands back on the console, Shiv exerted her will.  The viewing screen
lit up with a formless pattern of shifting grey.  Shiv squeezed her eyes shut
in concentration.  The screen began to blink rapidly as Shiv rolled back the
view of time the scanner could show.  The flicking slowed, became a steady
pulsing of light and dark, marking the round of the seasons, as the dive into
nether time slowed.  For a brief instant, the screen showed a vast city of
elfin towers set in spacious parkland, stretching away to a meeting with the
benighted sky.  Arching over the city, was a silvery halo of stars.  The
artfully symmetrical confection of elegant architecture was made beautiful by
a million, million multicoloured lights illuminating the pleasant boulevades
and sweeping avenues of the city.

Shiv's dark eyes filled with tears, as she gazed upon the mighty metropolis
of Anthro-Shivan.  The sight of the Dreaming City, capital of the Dala World,
at the peak of its power and majesty, brought a sudden ache to her heart, for
this was the place where she had come to birth in the long, long ago.  With
an effort, Shiv broke the spell the sight cast upon her soul, and moved to
zoom in on the tallest tower, at the very heart of the city.

Suddenly, the hum of the TARDIS spiralled up in alarm.  The picture jerked
spastically; and the beautiful city imploded into ruin in an instant.  The
broken stumps of once stately towers now rose from a riot of greenery choking
the boulevards and avenues. The brightly gleaming stonework was greyed with
age, and pitted by centuries of the scouring wind.

Shiv snarled an angry oath, and glared around at the walls of the room.  The
TARDIS hum was unapologetic.  It grew slightly reproving.  Shiv shruggd off
the reproof.  Once more she applied herself to the console.  The scene
blurred into the pulsing light and dark pattern.  There was the briefest
glimpse of the city in its glory, before the picture jerked again.  When the
view stabilised, it showed a green country, rolling away to a distant
horizon.  A lazy river wended through the lush meadows.  Horned creatures,
like fat cattle, grazed contentedly on the luxuriant vegetation.  The only
sign of the city, was a few daub and wattle huts, clustered on the north bank
of the river.  The huddle of squalid hovels held no hint of the beauty and
greatness of the mighty capital that would rise here in the centuries to
come.

The Shivan snarled in fury.  The TARDIS hum grated with a warning harmonic.
Ignoring the hostility in the sound, she muttered.  "You will show me!  You
WILL!"

Again, she applied hands to the console, pitting her vast strength of will
against the time machine's determination to thwart her heart's desire.
Possessed entirely by her own obsession, she was deaf to good sense, and the
 dire warnings of catastrophic peril. She ruthlessly beat down the machine's
opposition.

The picture cleared for the third time, showing the city of the Anthro-Shivan
at the moment in time shiv desired.  It lay under the soft silver light of
twin moons.  Centred in the screen was the tallest tower, spearing
starwards from the heart of the city.  There were two figures standing at the
edge of the roof, a male and female.  Shiv stroked the console, and the view
grudgingly zoomed in close.  The male was gazing out over the city, his hands
held out, his black mane and grey robe riffling in a gentle breeze.

"...And after my virus takes effect, we shall have time.  All the time we
need for wisdom to grow," he was declaiming.  "Time enough to discover the
profound greatness that lies within us, awaiting only the gift of eons that
my virus will grant us.  And when we have attained the light of wisdom, why,
then my dear Dala-Shiva, I shall lead a crusade to the stars, to bring the
wisdom of the Anthro-Shivan to the Galaxy.  There will be such an age of
golden peace as has never been dreamed of.  We shall reign like gods among
the peoples.  And it is I, Anthro-Dalo, who shall bestow this gift of
enlightenment of the golden age of peace to the peoples of the Galaxy."

The breeze, ruffling a sheaf of papers on the parapet, distracted the great
man from the expounding of his grand vision.  He paused, standing in silence
for a long time, regarding the pleasing symetry of the dreaming city spread
out below.  At length, he sighed, and picked up the papers.  Giving them a
cursory glance, his mouth twisted with irritation.

"And because of this....this nonsense? you tell me I must postpone the
destiny of the Anthro-Shivan? Pah!  There is nothing here but mere
supposition and shaky conjecture," he declared.  "You may be a prodigy, and
the most able student at the Bio-Tech of your generation, Dala-Shiva -
indeed, you have shown great promise as a potential Academician - but you are
NOT yet worthy even to be an Acolyte to that august body.  This is merely
arrant theorising based on a false premis.  It is without worth."

He gripped the papers in both hands, tore them across, and cast them
dismissively at her feet.  He turned away, flinging wide his arms to
encompass the beauty of the city spread below them.

While the great man resumed the expounding of his grand vision, waxing
arrogant and lyrical on the wondrous gifts and bounties his towering genius
would bestow upon a grateful galaxy, Destinyð
stood to one side of the pair, holding her breath.

And behind Destiny, like a fat black spider at the centre of a web of time,
stood the Time Lords of Gallifrey, who had a keen interest in the outcome of
the next few seconds.

For the moment to act had come.

Two steps to get behind the unsuspecting would-be tyrant, place hands in his
back, and one good hard shove...

And the galaxy would be safe from Anthro-Dalo's overweening insanity.

But love was there too, as Destiny's betrayer.

So Dala-Shiva did not take those steps.

Then...

....But now...

Shiv laid an imperious hand on the console.  Power fluxed.  The hum of the
TARDIS sharpened with stern warning.  Shiv's hand leapt from the board.  She
screamed in pain. Compassion bloomed in the hum of the TARDIS.  Shiv glanced
all around, her face a mask of fury. "I don't want your pity," she screamed.
"I want it changed!  I WILL HAVE it changed!"

She laid her hand down with grim resolve.  Power fluxed.  Shiv screamed in
agony.  This time, the spastic jerking of her body threw her clear across the
room.  She smashed into the wall beside the inner door, and slid to a sitting
position on the floor.  Her face contorted with furious rage, while blue
sparks crawled in her black mane.  She balled her hands into fists.  The air
about the intense little woman shimmered.

"It will be so!" she screamed.   "I will make it so!"

The rotor rose jerkily, as though against a great pressure.  The light of
triumph flamed in the little woman's face.  The TARDIS hum rose in a
despairing shriek.  Shiv held out one clenched fist towards the screen,
muttering.  Slowly, she opened her hand.  The frozen picture on the screen
shattered into a billion glittering points of light.  They quickly swirled
around to form the double spiral of the galaxy.  Laying across the heart of
that swirl of stars, was the midnight shadow of a six fingered hand.  With
remorseless intent, the black hand closed over the pulsing lens of light,
the talon tipped fingers tearing into the writhing mass of stars.  Long
streamers of stars ran from between the black fingers, like rivers of silver
blood from the mortally wounded galaxy.

Staring first at the screen, then at her own six fingered hand, extended to
grasp, Shiv's face relaxed into a rueful smile.  The point was well made.
Thoughtfully, she lowered her outstretched hand, all the fury
draining out of her.

"Alright," she said in a small voice.  "Alright.  Let it be.  Let it be." The
hum of the TARDIS took on a quality of mercy. Consolation, and a gentle
regret, was suggested in the now soothing sound.

Shiv jumped up, glanced at the trio poised awkwardly around the bright patch
of red, and went in search of the Doctor.  If the TARDIS would not permit her
to redeem her mistakes, there were still things in the present in which she
might interfere without the Doctor's machine seeking to thwart her
desire.

She found him in the medical area, studying the information screens set at
the head of a glass walled tank.  Inside, floating in a green dim, was the
body of Kulaan.

"Will he live?" she asked.

"There's a chance," answered the Doctor, turning to study her. "That was a
good idea, getting the old girl to dam time like that - how did you do it?"

"We have come to an understanding," Shiv said, choosing her words with care.

The Doctor regarded her a long moment, then he nodded.  "I see?  She's a good
girl; but she's never been that obliging to me." He moved to peer into the
green gloom of the tank.  "At least it's given the boy a fighting chance." He
paused, and turned to consider the little woman. "If only the chances
were as good for the rest of the Kulak people?"

A weighty expectation was suddenly in the air.  Shiv shifted uneasily under
the Doctor's regard.  She knew what was coming, and could see no way to
eschew it.  She waited with dread for the Doctor's revealing.

With an expression of grave apology on his face, the Doctor took some Vellas
leaves from his pocket, and held them out to the unhappy Shivan.  She jerked
as though shot, and backed away.

"NO!" she exclaimed.  "Not the Shivan's Bane!  You cannot ask that of me.  If
you understood the cruelty of it, you would not ask it of the Shivan."

"I know what I ask of the Shivan, Little Mother, " the Doctor said gently.
"Unless you use the Vellas to check the fertility of the Terrans, they will
destroy the world with their growing numbers.  Vellas may not prevent
entirely the coming disaster; but it might give them time to find a better
solution.  It will give your foster children a fighting chance to save
themselves and the planet.  Can you not find enough love in your great heart
to brave the Shivan's Bane?"

For a long time, the medical area was silent, save for the quiet hum of the
TARDIS. The occasional peep and click from the equipment sounded loud in
the stillness.  A slow gurgling came from the regen-tank, underscoring the
 quiet pregnant with anticipation.

At last the stillness broke.  The Shivan stirred.  She reached out a
six-fingered hand, and drew a thoughtful finger down the length of the Vellas
leaf.

"the Oldest and Fatherless understands the cruelty of what is asked," she
said.

The Doctor nodded.

The Shivan looked up suddenly into his face, her dark eyes bright.  She
scrutinised his expression as if she might discover the answer to the
riddle of existence there. She spoke at last, an unwonted hesitation in her
 voice.

"There is something I must know.  A truth only the Oldest and Fatherless can
say.   Will you tell me Doctor."

The tone in the Shivan's voice warned the Doctor of the soul dark importance
of this thing the Little Mother would know of him.  On his response, he knew,
rested the fate of the Kulak - a thing too important to betray with words, so
he nodded mutely.

"Would it have made any difference if I had pushed Anthro-Dalo to his
death?"  The Shivan's voice was a dread laden whisper.

The Doctor knelt, to put himself on the same level as the Little Mother.
Tentatively, he reached out a hand, laying it on her shoulder.  He looked
into the angular face; the sharp features were beset by a terrible anguish.
Gently, he squeezed the plump shoulder, endeavouring to impart his depth of
feeling for the endless centuries of sterile loneliness the Shivan had
endured because of the things his people had done to them in the long ago
out of fear and expediency. Those things did not admit of undoing.  The
cruel consequences that flowed from his people's ruthlessness were set in
time.

"Little Mother.....There was nothing you could have done," he assured her
gently.  "Pushing Anthro-Dalo to his death would have only made matters
worse.  My people were resolved on neutralising the threat you posed to their
position.  They thought to cripple your power with Anthro-Dalo's virus.  Had
you pushed the tyrant to his death, that would not have been possible, as
your own research would have realised the true dream of Anthro-Dalo, not the
perverted disastrous outcome my people planned for you.  Had you shoved him
from the roof, Your race would have been marked for deletion from the time
lines."

Nothing stirred in the medical area for a long time.  Then, of a sudden, a
deep shudder ran through the shoulder under his hand.  Tears silvered
her dark eyes, and flooded down her cheeks.

"The Shivan thanks the Oldest and Fatherless for his honesty," she gritted
out in  a strangled voice.  Then she rallied and went on:   "And the Shivan
will brave the Shivan's Bane."

The Doctor drew the distraught little woman into his long arms, and held her
gently against his chest.  He rocked her gently like a babe, giving what
comfort was possible for the little woman.

That was how a surprised Sarah found them, the Doctor kneeling on the floor,
his great arms enfolding the little woman in grey robes.  Nearby, lay some
withered leaves with a pungent scent.  Quietly, Sarah withdrew.  Meeting
Harry in the corridor, she deftly steered him away from the scene in the
medical area.




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