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

A story of the Fifth Doctor, Nyssa, Tegan and Adric.

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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Eight.


The Doctor turned from the door and ran back down the steps to the two Brood
Sisters standing, afraid and uncertain,  before the archway. "Get me outside!
Now!" he demanded.

"We can't," they cried in unison.

"Why not?" The urgency in the Doctor's voice drove them back a step,
against a metal panel, which now sealed off the entrance to the Gate.

"The Devil Metal." Oriana said, waving a hand at their surroundings in a
gesture of vague helplessness.

"...And the bifurcation - don't forget the bifurcation,"
Gabriela cried, struggling with a barely surpressed panic.

"We would need the boost of the Gate engine." Oriana explained a little
calmer than her Sister.  "It's the metal plates;" she went on.  "They have
dwarf star alloy in them..."

"...They shield us from the Vortex." Gabrila cut in.  "We cannot go Between
from here."

Orianna said: "Unless we can open the Gate, there can be no path for us
past the Constant - not from here."

"And even if we could go?  we wouldn't," Gabriela stated firmly.  Her pale
hands snaked out, entwined together with Oriana's, seeking comfort in the
unity of the Brood. "Not while we are in the future shadow of the
Constant..." she added, calmed by the physical contact.

"If we go Between now..." Oriana began.

"...The Constant would eat us." Gabriela ended.

"How long?" the Doctor demanded.

"At least ten -" Orianna began.

"Fifteen minutes," Gabrila overrode her.

The Doctor scowled.  He looked beyond the frightened Sister-Selves to the
archway, filled with the slab of alloy.  Moving to it, he ran a hand over the
slick surface.  The "feel" was unmistakable - Dwarf Star Alloy!  It would be
playing hell with the Brood pair's perceptions.  He could not blame themf for
their reluctance.  A Lassiter-Munro Constant, by its very constancy, was
invisible to the Brood's perceptions.  They could not see them until they
were enmeshed in the irrevocable tramlines - and then it was too late!  They
had all just had one very lucky escape.  Daring the same Constant twice would
be utter folly.  Apart from which, he was not certain he could get the door
open.

He turned from the closed arch.  "This way!" he cried, leading off up the
other stairway at a dead run.

"But," cried Gabriela "we can't go that way - the Devil Metal..."

"And Kendron forbids the Sisters!"   said Oriana.

But the Doctor was gone, leaving only a faint and fading  patter of running
footsteps echoing eerily in the dark as a discordant counterpoint to the
alarm.

Orianna and Gabrila exchanged fearful glances, nodded simultaneously and,
hand in hand,  scampered after him.  The wailing of the alarms pursued the
trio into the bosky light filling up the stairwell.

In desperation, the Doctor raced down interminable tunnels cut in the living
rock, seeking some way out into the garden.  His long strides carried him
along at a reckless pace, but to no avail.  Precious second, by precious
second ticked by, becoming minutes; and still no exit into the garden.
Fluttering in his wake, like two scraps of midnight fleeing the dawn, the two
Sister-Selves chased behind.

As he approached yet another intersection, Oriana lunged, and grabbed his
arm.  The Doctor skidded to a halt.  The look he turned upon the woman was
hot and angry.

"What is it?" he demanded.  "Tegan --"

"Is beyond our help by now, Time Lord," Oriana hissed at him.  "Wait here!"
She released his arm, and moved to the corner.  She peered round, then
beckoned him forward.

The Doctor looked.  Along the turning to the right, about twenty yards
distant, four men stood before a high arched entrance.  Bright sunlight
flooded through the opening and spilled across the floor.  Oriana drew the
Doctor back.

"How did you know?" the Doctor asked.

"Can you not *feel* the turbulence in the stream of time?" she asked,
incredulous at his insensitivity.  "Even with all this vile metal crushing
our soul, we can still hear the void screaming - can you truly not, Time
Lord?"

The Doctor nodded slowly - there *was* something.  He stuck his head out
for another look.  He glanced left.  About ten yards further down that way,
a flight of steps descended into darkness.  He was half minded to make a
dash for it, but Orianna's hand on his arm stilled the impulse.  Apart from
which, despite his mounting fears over Tegan, his curiosity was piqued.

"It would be wise to see," Oriana advised, as though she were telling him his
own thoughts.

The two Sister-Selves moved in front of him, touched hands briefly, then
regarded him with two pairs of black eyes.  Orianna smiled faintly and
nodded.

"Be ready, Doctor," she instructed him.

The two women turned away in a swish of silk and stepped into the
cross-corridor.  As one they let out a scream that rang, not only in the
echoing passage, but also in the Doctor's time awareness.  He reeled back
and clutched a hand to his head.
 In a whirl of blakc silk, and the patter of running feet, they were gone.

Abruptly, the stone corridor cut from the living rock was filled with
shouting and the pounding of booted feet.  The Doctor flattened himself
against the wall.  He counted the men as they ran past.  There was one at
least left to guard whatever it was.

The Doctor smiled thinly and stepped into the corridor.  He realised with a
little frisson of distaste that he was going to enjoy this.  Someone was
going to be sorry about Tegan.

He strode quickly down on the soldier, with such an air of assurance that he
got within five strides before the startled man reacted.  The guard shouted
something and dragged out a sword.

The Doctor bowled the cricket ball over-arm.  The hard, red missile struck
the man on the temple.  He went down where he stood, without a cry.  The
sword spun from his hand, to skid across the stone with a metallic clatter,
its polished blade glittering in the light streaming from the doorway.

The Doctor bent and made a cursory inspection of the guard.  Unconscious --
and he was going to have a really nasty bump.  Blood was trickling down the
side of the man's head.

The Doctor picked up the fallen sword and retrieved the cricket ball.
Rising, he stepped into the dazzling sunlight streaming from the room.

And stopped short, utterly amazed,  at what he found there.  The sheer naked
daring of it took his breath away.

The doorway, through which he had entered, was set in one corner of a
pentagonal space.  It would not have been correct to call it a room, for it
was not exactly inside anywhere.  Where the five walls should have been,
there was instead a marvel of reality manipulation.  In the centre of the
space was a large clear sphere with a round door facing him.  Inside the
globe was a circular platform raised on four short legs.  Opposite the
opening a pillar of metal rose to around head height for a person of an
average frame.  A small tapering spike of green crystal was held over the
exact centre of the platform by a short arm.  The Doctor had a very nasty
suspicion he knew what it might be.

It was not that curious engine, however,  that caused his amazement.

He turned his gaze to the miracle of temporal and spatial engineering, where
the five walls should have been.  To his immediate left, was the court of the
fountain at Little Deeping.  He could hear the breeze among the beeches,
 and fancied he could smell the scent of flowers.  To his immediate right,
was the Orion Gate.  Next on the left, was a derelict Gate Station, wreathed
in a mica mist - the Du Lac Station?  Yes, he was certain.  The reality
presence to the right, facing him at an angle, caused him to catch his
breath.  There, a giant scintilating blue sphere of water hung against a
backdrop of diamond brilliant stars.  In the background, just to the left of
the shimmering sphere of water, was a bright yellow sun.

But it was what lay beyond the engine in the centre of the chamber that
caused his hearts to beat out a discordant tattoo.  How *that* had been
managed, the Doctor could not imagine; but that it had been accomplished,
without being discovered, defied credibility.

That last reality phase opened into the Panopticon on Gallifrey, right over
the seals of the Eye of Harmony.

Seeing this chamber, he knew now how it was that Tegan had survived the
Vortex - she had never been through it.  Instead, she must have passed
directly from reality to reality via this monstrous construct.  Also, it
explained the Constant - whenever this thing was activated, another would be
created - this whole sector must be getting stiff with the wretched things.
If for no other reason, the Construct had to be shut down, and quickly.

He turned his attention back to the transparent sphere in the centre of the
 chamber, a nasty suspicion growing.  He was in no doubt as to its function -
it was a telekenetic amplifier, and one tuned to a specific user.  He glanced
at the shining globe of water hanging against the stars, his face grim; but
what concerned him more was that he was certain he knew who, or rather what
that user might be.

A slight noise behind him brought the Doctor back to the exigencies of the
present.  He glanced back to the door, half expecting it not to be there.  It
was, and a man in black leather uniform was just rising from an inspection of
his unconscious comrade.  The man drew a wicked looking blast weapon from his
belt, and levelled it at the Doctor.

"You come out of there.  Right now!" he commanded.

The Doctor was in no mood to be ordered about, especially when he held a
finely balanced sword, and the requisite skill to use it. Also, he fancied he
had the mark of this one.  By his stance and cat-like grace, the doctor
surmised, this man was a skilled sword; and, by his bearing, proud of his
prowess; and after all, if he was hard pressed, he would always have recourse
to the blaster.

The Doctor presented the point to the guard.  The challenge could not be
misunderstood.  The soldier considered a moment; then, with a savage little
grin, he thrust the pistol back into the belt, and drew his own steel.

The Doctor launched a blistering attack.  Instantly, he had the man back
peddling, defending desperately, white faced.  A slight smile played with the
Doctor's lips as he went once more through those practice routines he had
learned so long ago.  For a moment, he was back in the practice arena with
Dana's lithe female form dancing before him, the practice blade flickering in
her hand as she touched and touched again with seeming impunity, while he
floundered and swiped ineffectually.

She had been a good teacher, and he an apt pupil.  With the advantage of
her training and his extra speed, the man was no match for him.  He closed
in to relieve him of the pistol by cutting the belt.  Then he would remove
the sword.  It was a simple plan.

Unfortunately, lost momentarily in his reverie, the Doctor lost the thread.
The man was very good.  Understanding upon the instant that he was hopelessly
outclassed, he hurled the sword at the Doctor to gain a second's grace.
Leaping back, he dragged the blaster from his belt.  He aimed it at the
oncoming Doctor's chest and fired.


It was hard to say who was the more surprised -- the Doctor or the soldier,
when the weapon failed to work.  The man stared at it stupidly, squeezing
the trigger until his knuckles showed white.

When Orianna hit him with a bar of metal, this time there was no doubt as to
who was more surprised.  The guard stared at the Doctor for a long moment,
his expression one of puzzled reproach, then dropped.  Orianna threw aside
the bar of alloy, as though it was something unspeakably nasty.  She wiped
her hands repeatedly on her silks.

"We didn't hit him too hard, did we?" Gabriela asked from the doorway.

The Doctor knelt.  "Sufficient to the need," he said, and prised the pistol
from the man's white-knuckled grasp.  He studied it with a thoughtful
expression on his face.  The emblem blazoned on the handgrip was familiar,
the simple depiction sparking intense memories in his long mind.  It took the
hand of Orianna on his shoulder to break the spell.

The Brood sister was swaying slightly with a pained expression on her face.
When she spoke, the strain attenuated her voice to a thin creak.  "Lord?  is
something wrong?"

"Huh?  Eh - no - what is it?"

"We must not stay here," Orianna declared.  "The universe is screaming.  It
screams in agony.  This place is unnatural, twisted."

Fretful in the entry, Gabriela stood with hands pressed over ears.  "We can't
stand it!" she cried.  She had not been able to bring herself to cross the
reality threshold into the construct.

The Doctor glanced up, aware of the suffering in the voices. Orianna had
retreated back across the threshold to stand, hand in hand,  with her
fretting Sister-Self.  Both their faces were pale and drawn.

"No, of course not," he agreed, his mind still else-when.  Rising, he took a
slow look all around the reality construct.  His gaze took in the clear
sphere in the centre.  Something ought to be done about that, something
drastic.  His jaw set with decision.  Moving to the sphere, he took the
cricket ball from his pocket. He bent through the opening, and carefully
placed it out of sight under the platform.  He straightened, and moved back
to the two Sister-Selves hovering in the entrance.  "We must see about
Tegan," he said in grim tones.

"There is a way out to the rose garden," Orianna told him.

"Down this way." Gabriela pointed off along the passage.

"Hurry!" they urged.  Then, in a swirl of silks and streaming hair, both
women took off at a dead run.  The Doctor slipped the blaster out of sight,
and dashed after them.

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In the rose garden, the deadly moment was unfolding to its terrible
conclusion.

Before the sword could bite deep, Harmony's own blade was there, deflecting
the stroke.  The clang of steel on steel rang loud in Tegan's head.  Time
started again.  She reeled back, a hand flying to her throat.  Scarlet
bubbled between her fingers.

Seeing the opening in Harmony's defence, a soldier leapt in.  He cut
viciously at her neck.  She was wide open on that side; but at the last
possible instant, the officer deflected the blade, with a graceful flick
of his blade.

"Hold!" he commanded.  Instantly the rest of his men stood back - though they
remained wary, with swords held ready.

Tegan dropped to her knees, ashen and shaking, still clutching at her
throat.  Blood was still seeping between her fingers.  She cried out in a
thin, hysterical voice, "Oh God!  I'm dying! Oh God! I'm dying!"

Two men grabbed her.  One of them pressed a wad of cloth over the
red-fingered hand at her neck.

The officer saluted Harmony with his blade.  "That was well done, Lady;" He
said, acknowledging the bravery of her actions in exposing herself to death
to aid her friend.  The man understood what she had been about; and although
he felt a great admiration for the swordswoman's self-less action, he did
have his orders.

"Will you yield now, Lady?  We have your friend, and any sacrifice you make
now would be to no purpose.  Will you see sense and yield?"

Harmony thought about it for a moment, then allowed the sword to slip from
her fingers.  A man stepped in and relieved her baldric of the throwing
knives, took the knife at her left hip and slipped the blast pistol from the
holster.  He stepped back,  covering her with the blaster.

Harmony smiled wryly at him.  "The charge is exhausted," she said.  When he
continued to point the blaster at her,she shrugged, and turned to see how
Tegan was.

Chalk pale with fright, she had ceased to struggle and was pressing the
handkerchief to her neck.  The once white linen was dripping red spots onto
her blouse.

"May I see to my friend?" Harmony asked the officer.

The man nodded and stepped back, but remained watchful while Harmony went to
Tegan.  The men holding her relaxed their grip.  Harmony gently pulled down
the hand from the wound.  She was relieved to see that it was little more
than a deep scratch; already the flow of blood had slowed.

Harmony grinned encouragingly at her.  "You'll live, Tegan.  It's only a
flesh wound." She untied the leather thong binding her hair and looped it
about Tegan's neck.  Gently,she tightened it onto the wadded up linen.
"There.  That'll hold it in place for now.  You'll be fine.  I've had worse
cuts sharpening my blades." She gave Tegan another grin of encouragement,
before straightening to address the officer.  "What now?"

The man sheathed his sword, and waved a hand towards the west end of the
terrace.  "If you would be so kind, Lady?"

Supporting a still shaky Tegan, Harmony led off along the gravel pathways
towards the western end of the terrace.  The troop fell in around the two
women.  Gravel crunched underfoot as the troop ushered them towards a dark
archway in the rock wall.

Passing into the dark maw of the entry, they found a passage sloping up
steeply into the rock.  After twenty paces, there was a heavy metal door.  At
the door , the officer pressed a plump hand to a plate at the side.  The door
clanked and swung inwards.  Both Harmony and Tegan blanched.  They were
forced back a step by a hideous eruption of sound and stench which flooded
from the darkness beyond.

"Inside with you, Ladies," the officer urged firmly.

Hanging back was not possible.  They were hustled through the door.  The
metal panel swung to behind them, settling into place with a very final
sounding clang.

They found themselves in a long corridor.  The right wall was blank rock,
glistening with moisture.  The grey surface shone eerily in the dim
illumination cast by a single glow globe, set half way along the passage.  To
the left, a palisade of bars marched away parallel to the rock wall, crusted
with a scabrous mold.  At the far end of the narrow way, a flight of steps
led up into darkness.

Behind the bars, there was a large ill lit area, about fifteen feet deep.
The floor there was covered with filthy straw.  Many half-seen shapes moved
in the gloom, their motions expressive of insupportable suffering.  Some
drifted back and forth in a dreary shamble.  Others were slumped on the floor
, digging at the filthy straw whilst weeping.  One was hunched in a corner,
dragging curled fingers through a great mane, tangled and matted with filth.
Another was standing in a far corner, determinedly beating her fists against
the unyielding stone.  Blood squelched from her ruined hands, ran down wrists
and dripped to the rank reeds.  All were moaning in a persistent monotone.

Buried deep in that sound of sorrow was the faintest of wheezing sounds,
reminiscent of a TARDIS straining to take flight into the Vortex.  More than
the lamentation of the women, that sound grated against Harmony's nerves like
a file grinding on iron.

No stranger to horror, yet even Harmony recoiled from the spectacle and
sought succour in the arms of the Source Priestess in her soul.  That other
Harmony opened like a flower of love and compassion in her heart, receiving
in and smothering all her pain.  In that moment Harmony let go of her
resentment of that other and joined the Priestess in determination to end
this insane cruelty.

The officer moved to the door, took out a large key and unlocked it.  He
pulled the iron grill open, motioning for the two women to enter.  Tegan hung
back, as the dark drifting shapes beyond the bars turned in their direction.
Black eyes blazed in the haggard countenances, touched by insanity.  They
began to drift like wraiths towards the open door.  Some of Lobo's men drew
swords, and held them out threateningly.  The tormented women ignored the
sharpened steel, clustering close to the door.

Tegan drew back from the opening, aghast.  "You can't put us in there!" she
cried.  "You can't!"

From inside the filthy cell, the women took up Tegan's cry.  "You can't!  You
can't!  You can't!" they chanted back at her in a single voice, distorted by
the sound of straining TARDIS engines.

Tegan shrank back against Harmony, who slid a comforting arm across her
shoulder.  "you can't put us in there!" she appealed to the officer. "The
Brood are deep in the Hunger.  They will tear us to pieces!  You can't put us
in with them."

The guard captain looked regretful, but resolute.  "I must, Lady.  It is the
Lord Kendron's express orders: Anyone arriving via the Gate must go behind
the special alloy.  He is adamant about that.  I would not see the sunset
were I to disobey his express orders.  Now, Lady, please?"

Prompted by the surge of compassion for his plight from the Source Priestess,
Harmony saw that he was obviously not a bad man.  He was only deadly afraid,
trapped in a bad situation.  The perception of the Priestess also showed her
that there could be no arguing with him.

She glanced through the bars at the swaying, hunger haunted Brood Sisters,
and felt a great fear threaten to overwhelm her. Desperately, she sought to
join with the Priestess, and found unconditional welcome. The fear abated;

"Come along, Tegan," she said. "They will not harm you.  I give you the
assurance of a Priestess of the Shining Source - and the word of a Prydonian
- for what that's worth! Come!  The three of us will face it together."
Taking a firm grip of Tegan's hand, she drew her through the door.  The
grating was slammed shut and locked.  The men relaxed.

For a long, thoughtful second, the Guard Captain watched them through the
bars, his disquiet clear on his round face.  Then he addressed his men.
"Back to your posts!" he ordered more sharply than necessary.  Abruptly, he
turned and hurried to the far end of the corridor and vanished up the steps,
followed by his men.

Harmony released Tegan and turned to face the demented Orion Brood.

The Sister-Selves began to close in on the two women, the TARDIS sound
emanating from them rising to a fraught crescendo.

Harmony, in desperation, tore open the front of her blouse and scrabbled for
the talisman.  Without hesitation, she held out the focus of the
Priestess's inner peace to the nearest Brood Sister.  she tried not to think
about the fact that she would be left defenseless before the Darkovah when
the Priestess withdrew from her to ease the suffering of the Brood.  That
thought terrified her; but she did not hold back; for she was cursed with
honour.

"Tegan," she mouthed out of the side of her mouth, reaching her free hand
behind her.  The young woman clasped her hand tightly.  Together, they began
to edge toward the rear of the cell

The Sister-Selves appeared suddenly confused.  They hesitated, clearing a
small space around the two women.  Tegan clung onto Harmony as they backed
away slowly.  The two hard pressed women reached the back wall.  Tegan felt
the chill of the damp stone against her back.  There was no where left to
retreat.

The Brood crowded in a close arc around the two women.  One of the Sisters
darted forward and reached for Harmony, who held out the talisman to the mad
woman in the tattered silks.  The pain wracked fingers brushed the golden
symbol of the Priestess.

At the caress, the woman stopped abruptly.  The insanity drained from the
eyes.  Harmony grunted and stifled a scream of terror as she felt the
Priestess withdrawing from her, exposing her mind to the ravening hunger of
the Darkovah.  She shrank into Tegan's embrace, feeling her resolve wither as
the shielding presences of the Priestess departed.

The Brood Sister stiffened, straightened, as though a great weight were
lifted from her back.  The haggard lines of pain melted from her face.  A
confused personality resurfaced in her features.

As the Brood Sister moved back, another stepped forward to take her place,
reaching a hand to brush the gold talisman.  Once more on a profound
level, there was an exchange of weakness and need for the fortitude, serenity
and peace of the soul of the Priestess.

Harmony cried out in pain and desolation at this renewed departing; but she
would not break the contact until the Priestess had given fully of herself.
Somewhere in the darkest corners of her mind, there was a stirring of the
Darkovah as it sensed an opening.  Harmony recoiled in terror from that
urgent probing, and shrank further into Tegan's embrace. After this second
dividing, her soul was laid naked before the un-tender mercy of the Darkovah.

Tegan was deadly afraid.  She felt certain that Harmony would not endure
through another of those deadly contacts.  She knew also that Harmony would
not turn aside from the task of succoring the Brood.

Her face a twisted mask of pain as the Darkovah's mind-spelling bit deep into
her exposed soul, Harmony motioned the next Brood Sister forth.  Tegan felt
Harmony writhe in her arms as the fingers brushed the Amulet.  The stricken
woman seemed to collapse in on herself, as more of the defensive energy of
the Priestess flowed out to answer the need of the Brood Sister.

The next Sister stepped forward, demanding blessing.

Tegan was certain Harmony would not survive the next transfer.  She lowered
the fainting woman to the filthy straw.  She rose and stood across the body
facing the Brood, resolute in her determination to protect the woman from
further harm, though she had not the slightest idea how she was going to do
that.





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