From: Clive@cj4386.demon.co.uk (Clive May)
Subject: Re: A story we can all create..
Date: Sat, 17 Nov 01 01:17:25 GMT

Something brushed the Doctor's hair.  He looked up, to see the leg strap of a
bird saddle before his eyes.  He tilted his head back further, and saw
Gorthund's face peering down at him.  He was holding the neck strap of the
saddle that was flapping against the creaking metalwork above the Doctor's
head.

"Doctor!  Grab the strap," Gorthund urged.  "Quick!"

The Doctor loosed a hand to reach.  There was a metallic 'spang' and the
lattice came adrift.  The Doctor made a desperate lunge, and grabbed a
handful of leather strap.  The next moment, he fell free, dragging the
saddle, and Gorthund, down with him.  Gorthund had unwisely wrapped the neck
strap about his wrist.

As they tumbled into emptiness, the Doctor was a little disconcerted to
notice that Gorthund did not seem overly concerned at the disaster.  He was
grinning broadly.

"Hang on, Doctor," he cried through the wuthering of the wind.  Scrabbling at
the saddle, he clasped it to his chest.  He slipped the neck loop under his
thighs, and reached for the back edge of the saddle.  "Get a foot in the
loop, and hang on tight, Doctor," he urged.

The Doctor hastily did so; and Gorthund gently eased a knob set in the back
edge of the seat over a smidgin.  The sudden deceleration almost ripped the
Doctor loose.  He tightened his grip on the saddle strap.  They were still
plunging earthwards; but the killing acceleration had eased back.

"A personal PMPG field unit," exclaimed the Doctor, peering at the controls
set in the back of the saddle.

Gorthund nodded uncertainly.  "If you mean what keeps the city afloat," he
surmised.  "Then yes, it's the same magic."

The Doctor was nodding in agreement.  He asked: "What's the lift power
potential?  Not much I'd warrant, on a unit as small as this?"

Gorthund looked down at the ground far below.  "Not enough to stop us hitting
that hard, very hard," he admitted.  "But it should slow us down enough for
them to get a patrol around to sweep us up.  - at least I hope so." He began
peering hopefully around at the flocks of wheeling birds.

The Doctor, marvelling over the compact piece of technology, had all but
forgotten their danger.  "I wondered how it was the birds could lift the
weight of a man?" he mused.  "The power to weight ratio equation just cannot
work; and with that wingspan, the birds are so highly geered, it's a wonder
they can get aloft at all.  I think...."

"Look!" cried Gorthund, pointing to an arrowhead of birds side-slipping down
the sky in their direction.  "There's Kepla with help.  Hang on, Doctor, it
won't be long now."

Below them, the ground was rushing up at them with distressing speed.


For a long moment, Cain watched Bella slaking the feeding frenzy.  He grinned
without humour.  "Well?  That's my two most pressing problems sorted...  one
permanently, he observed dryly.  "And by the looks, the other one's gonna be
on hold for a good while too." Picking up a small case from under the
table,he arose and moved to the door, careful not to step in the gore.

Babydoll was leaning against the wall, cleaning her knife, and watching the
feeding frenzy with a whole lot less detachment than Cain.  Her face was
grim, her mouth pulled into a thin-lipped grimace of distaste.

As Cain went past, he jabbed a thumb at the mess, and grunted: "Get that lot
cleaned up, Babe?"

Babydoll snapped out of her fascination.  "Me?" she asked indignant.

"Yes you.  With Bella's little performance there, you don't suppose you'll
get any Servii to step in here until the place's been exorcised by one of
their Shamans, do yer?  And that lot's gonna get real high, real soon in this
heat."

"She made the mess," Babydoll pouted.  "She should clean it up."

Cain paused to regard Bella crouched over the former War Captain Murgonj.
With the dark cloak flared out over her, she looked like a giant bat hovering
over its prey.  Eager hissing and slurping noises bubbled in her throat as
she sucked down the Servii's life blood.  Growing aware by some animal
instinct that she was the focus of attention, Bella paused in her feeding.
She raised her head from the gory feast to regard them over her left
shoulder.  Blood smeared her lower face, running in red rivulets from her
pointed chin.  In her bright eyes, an agonised vestige of humanity, all but
overwhelmed in a tide of beastiality, pleaded for surcease.

Turning his one good eye on Babydoll, Cain shrugged.  "That's fine by me.
"You just go right ahead and tell her.  It's your funeral!" He stepped
through the door into the glaring noon-day sun.

Babydoll muttered several comments about Cain's parenthood, which were too
close to truth for comfort, and followed the Time Lord outside.

Rahaaz's raiders had set the blue box on its base in the middle of the court.
Cain walked all around it, observing it from every angle.  Babydoll lounged
against the wall beside the door.  Cain was playing to the gallery again.  He
could be a right poser when he had an audience.  Rahaaz's men began to crowd
closer, curious to see the Overworld Wizard at work.  All were openly making
the sign of warding off the Evil Eye.  Cain was putting on a good show of
acting the powerful Overworld Wizard to the hilt.  The savages were lapping
it up.  Babydoll sighed and drew her dagger.  Feigning indifference, she
began to pare her nails.

When he finally deigned to come to the doors, Cain set the case down and took
out a grey disk attached to a coiled lead.  The Time Lord approached the
TARDIS, and placed the disk against the side, where it stuck with a little
click.  Taking a small headset from the case, Cain slipped it over his ears.
Then he picked up the control unit, and began to set dials.  The Servii
clustered closer to watch the Overworlder magic.

"Hey!" Cain suddenly exclaimed grinning.  "Whadderyou know!  It's an old Type
Forty."

"And that makes a difference?" sighed Babydoll.

"sure does, Babe.  If it was a later model I'd not be able to do this..."
With a flourish, Cain jabbed a button and said: "Open Sesame!"

The door swung in.  Cain set down his box and grinned all around at his
attentive audience.  For a moment, Baby doll thought he was actually going to
take a bow.  Instead, he strode to the TARDIS, pushed the door wide, and
stepped inside.

Had she not been so preoccupied with her feasting, Bella might have warned
Cain about the perils of walking blithely into that particular 'old type
forty'.

A second later, all hell broke loose.

Somewhere, a Servii yelled a warning.  The hot sun was suddenly blotted out.
Babydoll looked up, to see six giant birds in the sky.  Before she could
react, the riders opened up with some kind of energy weapon, pouring a
crackling blue death down into the ranks of Rahaaz's raiders.  Six small
canisters fell away from the birds.  Even taken completely by surprise, the
Servii reacted with the savage instincts of born desert raiders.  Before the
canisters had dropped ten feet, those Servii who had survived the initial
onslaught, blazed back at the attackers with their muskets.  The air was
suddenly blue with gunpowder smoke.

Babydoll, by conditioned reflex, flung herself out of the path of a bolt of
crackling blue energy.  The blast boiled the stone work where she had been
lounging an instant before.  In a single rolling movement, she came to her
knees, and hosed a long burst from the machine pistol at the near-side rider.
The young, lightly armoured, woman warrior was smashed sideways from the
saddle by the hail of lead.  The bird also took several hits.  It began to
lose height in a sudden swoop, but flew on with the bullet riddle corpse
dangling by an ankle from a stirrup.  The bird managed to clear a low watch
tower; but the body of the woman was smashed against the stonework.  The foot
tore away, and the bloody parcel of meat left a long smear of red down the
stonework as it tumbled.  Screaming murderous war cries, several nearby
Warriors fell upon the body, hacking and slashing it into bloody ruin.

The voice of Rahaaz boomed out over the uproar, issuing a challenge.
"Standeth thou cursed airborne cowards!  Standeth thou and faceth thou the
wrath of Kahaaz, mighty War Captain of the Servii!" the War Chief boomed,
incidentally promoting himself to 'War Captain' in the zeal of his
indignation.  Kahaaz cut a majestic figure amid the smoke and confusion.  He
stood, legs braced apart, laughing wildly in the savage battle joy, as he
blazed away at the attackers with an ancient Webley revolver in each clawed
paw.  When the hammers fell on empty chambers, he hurled the useless weapons
with such force, they sailed clear into the next court.  He grabbed up a
primed musket from a fallen warrior, took aim, and discharged it at a bird.
The wounded creature rapidly lost height.  It veered, flew smack into a
corner tower, and collapsed brokenly into the court.  The elite Skyborne
warrior leapt clear from his dying mount, clutching a pistol in one hand and
sword in the other.  He had time to blast down one charging armoured warrior,
before he was swept away in a maelstrom of flashing steel and flying gobbets
of flesh.

Servii war cries resounded in the enclosed court, filling the air with
pandemonium, to which was added the screams of wounded and dying.  A thick
haze of gunpowder smoke swirled crazily in the down draft from the birds'
arrowing passage over head.

Taking the scene of carnage in at a glance, Babydoll adjusted her aim, and
sent a long burst raking after the remaining raiders.  The stream of lead
chewed chunks from the parapet of a wall as the birds disappeared from sight.

The six canisters struck.

There were six muted explosions, and the air was thick with a choking yellow
gas.  Babydoll snatched the bandana from her pouch and held it over her face,
backing for the doubtful safety of Cain's office.  She had to skip over the
sprawled form of Bella, lying crumpled in the shadows beyond the entrance.
The Thing must have been sensitive to the backwash of the blue energy bolts?
Running to a side table, Babydoll grabbed up some more ammunition and
returned to the doorway.  As she was reloading, more dark shapes loomed
overhead in the yellow mist.  Muskets were going off in a desultory fusillade
all over the court.  Vaguely she was aware of some kind of net arrangement,
hanging down from the mist, and tangling around the TARDIS.  The next moment,
in a mighty downdraft, the blue box had been drawn up out of sight.  Cursing
volubly, she let off a long burst at the unseen raiders hidden by the mist.

And as suddenly as it had begun, it was all over.

The thinning mist revealed the blue box gone, a score of Servii dead, and War
Chief Rahaaz standing amid the fallen, staring at the sky, his jaws working
with rage and frustration.

Babydoll re-holstered the gun.  This was not looking too good.  The Servii
had very firm ideas about those who failed; and however you looked at this
little debacle, Rahaaz had screwed up real good.

She'd better get the door shut and barricaded, if she was dead set on seeing
another sunset.  Bella was sprawled right in the way.  Babydoll really did
not care to touch the Thing, even when it was unconscious.  However, there
was no time for squeamishness.  She bent, sliding her hands under Bella's
arms, and hauled the slight woman from the doorway.  The bulging belly,
swollen tight with Murgonj's blood, pulsed obscenely.  Gagging, Babydoll
averted her gaze from the sight, and dumped bella unceremoniously in Cain's
chair.

She hurried back to the door.  Things were hotting up outside.  Rahaaz was
backed in a corner, a blade in both hands, as he desperately tried to beat
off the attacks of would-be War Chiefs.  Things did not look too promising.

Babydoll drew the machine pistol, and considered taking a hand; but that
would be certain suicide.  Rahaaz's victory, should he win, would be
worthless if a mere female had assisted him to it.  Biting her lip, she
slammed the door and began to barricade it as best she could.

The noise of the desperate struggle aroused Bella.  Her eyes fluttered open.
Babydoll was relieved to seen they had turned green again.

"Wha?  What happened?" Bella asked, easing herself upright.

Babydoll poured a tall glass of Cain's evil brew.  She took a cautious sip,
grimaced at the taste, and downed a long pull.  She said: "Wee were attacked.
Those airborne rats have snatched that TARDIS."

Bella glanced uneasily at the barricaded door.  "Are we safe in here?"

Babydoll took another long pull from the orange brew, screwed up her face,
and set the near empty pot down.  She began checking the machine pistol.

"For the moment," she said.  "But our Gallant War Chief has lost serious
face.  He's gonna have to fight for his Chieftainship."

For a long moment, the two women listened to the sounds of clashing steel,
musket shot and yelling war cries coming from beyond the too, too flimsy
door.  "That's them kicking up that ruckus, sorting the matter now in the
good ol' traditional Servii way - by fighting each other to a standstill.  If
our gallant captain goes down, with Cain not here, it'll be curtains for us."
Babydoll drew a finger across her throat in a graphic gesture.  "At least for
me, that is."

Bella raised an inquiring eyebrow at that.

Babydoll nodded at the corpses.  "They'll probably want to make you some sort
of tribal Goddess after that little performance," she said drily.  Tossing
the bandana at Bella, she added.  "Here.  Clean yourself up.  All that shit
down your face is giving me the willies."

A violent hammering thundered against the rickety door.  Some of Babydoll's
hastily contrived barricade shifted loose.

"We've got to do something," cried Bella.

"Right," agreed Babydoll.  She moved to a side table and gathered up some
extra ammunition for her machine pistol.  She moved back to the table, placed
the ammunition to hand, drew her knife, and stuck it in the worn surface.
Then she leaned her backside against the edge, and compulsively checked the
mechanism of the pistol again.

The ferocious hammering in her chest was matched by the thunderous pounding
on the door.  She licked suddenly dried lips, swiped sweaty palms on her
thighs and prepared to take as many down with her as she could.

The door buckled under a powerful blow.  A hinge tore free from the jamb.  "A
short life, and a merry one," she muttered resignedly, hefting the gun.  "Oh
well?  One out of two's not a bad batting average for a no account kid outa
the Back Doubles." And she grinned wolfishly.

Bella rose from the table, looted a long knife from Murgonj's corpse and came
to stand at Babydoll's left hand.  In answer to Babydoll's glance of inquiry,
Bella shrugged and said: "Don't much fancy being a Blood Goddess to a tribe
of green-skinned, barbarian savages at the arse end of nowhere." She shifted
the knife to her left hand, wiped her right on the cloak and held it out to
Babydoll.

She said: "I know we haven't exactly been bosom
pals...But?...Well?...Friends?"

Babydoll hesitated only a moment.  "Why not?' She shrugged and clasped the
proffered hand.

The hammering on the door increased.  The wooden door buckled inwards,
splintering as it fell.


Windstrider drifted lazily westward, seven hundred feet over the silver
river.  The air was pleasantly warm as it blew through Soolisa's hair and
over Prak's face.  With the warm body of his mate cradled in his lap and the
sunlight sparkling from the shining water, Prak's mind drifted back to the
pleasant memories of his nuptial flight with his princess.  Consummating your
joining bird-back was not a requirement of the law; but the true Skyborne did
not consider themselves 'properly' wed until they had shared their love among
the clouds.

Prompted by the fond memories, Prak leaned down and nibbled at Soolisa's ear.
His hands clasped about her waist, seemingly of their own accord, moved up to
cup her small perfect breasts.  Soolisa stiffened, then wriggled around to
face her mate.  If Prak had any sweet words of love, they remained
un-whispered.  There was a sickly green gleam shimmering in the deep brown of
Soolisa's eyes.  Even before he was certain he had seen it, Soolisa's mouth
came down on his in a brutal kiss.  He was vaguely aware of her hands on his
chest, then she heaved against him.

Prak went over backwards off Windstrider.  He made a despairing clutch at the
tail feathers, only to have them slide through his grasping fingers.  A
moment later he was tumbling earthwards, trailing a horrified scream.

Soolisa quickly squirmed around to seat herself in the saddle.  She checked
Windstrider's trained response to salvage his rider.  She made the bird bank
in a wide circle, while she watched Prak's plunge to earth.  It did not take
long.

Afterwards, she turned Windstrider into the north.  Along the horizon, the
edge of the world loomed like a mass of dark storm clouds.  She set the bird
to climbing steeply.

Well!  That's my next bit.  I haven't enjoyed writing so much for a long,
long time.  Thanks BRAD - both of you!