Subject: Desert of Fear: part 40. Date: Sat, 22 Jan 2005 21:44:09 -0000 Desert Of Fear. Part 40. 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 air was bitter with alkali dust stirred up by the recent wind storm. Lit up by the war fires burning under the World's Edge, the night time sky pulsed with a sullen red glow. Materialising out of that hellish gloom, the Spirit of the Servii came to ensure a long delayed destiny. Two hundred feet tall, and wearing the form of Xelerina the slave girl, it strode down out of the High Desert. At its back crowded ten, a hundred, two hundred thousand eager warriors, all their bitterest enmities rendered an irrelevance by the calling of the Great Crusade. They marched in silence, raising a great cloud of dust. It billowed above the marching ranks, like a great flame, a fitting war banner for such a host. The only sound was the tramp of feet, an occasional bellow from a refractory Gurvuk, and the jingle of harness. This silence was far more unnerving than their wildest war yells might have been. The Trinnian waited to receive them. They had not been contracted to face down beings of God-like power; but they had taken coin, and honour demanded they stand their ground. The giant Apparition reached the walls, and stepped over into the Vale, floating down into the great rift in the world. It was unmindful of the hell of shot and shell the defenders poured into it. As it sank from sight, the first wave of the on-coming Servii washed up against the walls; and the defenders were forced to turn their attention to the horde. The manifestation of the Servii Spirit having passed them by, the Trinnian poured fire into the massed ranks with renewed spirit. Here was an enemy they could understand. Here was an enemy they could fight, and would fight, even though in their hearts they already knew that the cause must be lost. Even if the promised reinforcements of Golden Apes came now, it would not suffice to turn back this avenging tide. The Trinnian rolled out their cannon again, and fought on with a sullen defiance. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Most of the screaming had died away long since, leaving only the muted sounds of the jungle at night. A thin mist of gun-smoke hung over the battlefield, gleaming pale in the moonlight falling between the widely spaced trees. The shadowy forms of the surviving Servii moved through the bitter mist. They were indulging in their post victory rituals which meant, as far as Babydoll could make out, combing the battlefield for the enemy wounded and despatching them with much gory ceremony. It wasn't that Babydoll held any strong objections to this; she just wished they wouldn't make such a song and dance over it. She was resting with her back propped against a tree, nursing the shotgun across her lap, when the sky beyond the rising ground lit up with a blinding flash. By the time the ground heaved, she was lying prone behind a boulder, blinking the spots from her vision, her mouth open to minimise damage from the pressure wave. A second later, the thunder of the explosion rolled over her. There was a stunned pause, which stretched out until broken by the sound of debris raining down among the trees. Something struck a nearby tree with a wet thud. It rebounded and fell to the forest floor directly in front of Babydoll. As her vision cleared, she was confronted by the smoke blackened head of a Trinnian, lit by a shaft of silvery moonlight. The fierce visage was regarding her, its three eyes wide in shock. The mouth was twisted in a grim smile. Despite herself, Babydoll recoiled from the sight. She got up and made her way over to where Cain was crouching with a few of the Servii, careful to avert her gaze from the still living remains of the Priest. "Cain? What the smeg was that?" she asked. It was a rhetorical question; Babydoll could make a pretty good guess as to what it was, and who had been the cause; but the question served in place of the one she wanted to ask, but couldn't bring herself to voice - "will Bella be alright?" Cain turned one of his unpleasant smiles upon her. The shadows gave it a malign life all of its own. "They won't be bringing any more reinforcements through that way," he said. "I can always rely on Bella to do a thorough job." Whether it was meant that way or not, in her present state of growing uncertainty over so many things, the implied criticism stung. Anger rising, Babydoll turned away. Why did she care so much what Cain thought of her? Things like that had never seemed to matter to her before. She determined to seek out Bella. She had hardly gone two steps when the person she sought materialised from among the trees. The small woman was moving slowly, without her normal graceful glide. She looked a little ragged. Babydoll started to go to her; but was halted abruptly when Bella, sensing eyes upon her, paused to glance at Babydoll. Bella's stare was hard, almost threatening. The tableaux held for a second, before the smaller woman turned away, and went to Cain. Again, the implied rejection hurt, worse than the last time she had been wounded. Babydoll stood looking on at the pair as they conversed in quiet tones, struggling with an inchoate jealousy and feeling more wretched than she had after that hideous encounter with Sonia. "What's happening to me?" she asked. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- The Doctor spun about, a grim look on his face. In two strides, he was at the console. His hands flew over the controls, setting switches and dials. The central column began a slow rising and falling; the ubiquitous hum of the TARDIS deepened; and the source-less light which inhabited the room flowed out through the open doors. He snatched a thin probe like a silver knitting needle from his pocket. Holding it out like a knife, he advanced through the portals. Siharal stood at the entrance peering in horror at the mass of pulsating green faces. Holding the probe before him, the Doctor went forward with a relentless determination towards the bodies of Jo and Prak. They lay side by side like a pair of toppled jade statues, faces set in a mask of shock and agony. As the Doctor pressed forward against the intangible pressure of the green glow, the overlapping faces gave back reluctantly. The closer the doctor came, the more the creature retreated, pressed back by the energies emitted by the probe. Jo's feet emerged from the wall of faces. Stooping, the Doctor touched the probe to the hard green flesh of her ankle. Jo's face, shimmering in the green glow over her body, convulsed in silent agony. The intrusion drew back from Jo's body as though stung. The crystalline sheen drained from the skin, leaving a death-like pallor in its wake. The Doctor swept up the girl. He turned to dash into the TARDIS, only to find Siharal at his back. "I'll take her. You get Prak," Siharal commanded. Much of his customary authority was firmly back in place. The Doctor did not argue. He surrendered the girl. The next moment, he was reaching to touch the probe to Prak's foot. The intrusion withdrew; but this time the thing was reluctant to give up its prize. It flowed out to either side, to encircle the Doctor and cut off his retreat. Meanwhile, dashing past the closing green walls, Siharal re-entered the TARDIS. To his surprise, he saw Rhanda watching him from hear the console. "What's happening?" she asked. "I don't know," Siharal answered her. He laid Jo down on the floor. "Look after the girl," he commanded. He rushed back to the portals. Paying no heed to the wall of green faces pressing in to either hand, he reached out his arms. "Doctor! Doctor!" he shouted, "give me Prak. Quick! Before it's too late!" Without hesitation, the Doctor flung Prak through the narrowing gap. Knocked off-balance by the force of the thrown body, Siharal stumbled backwards into the console room, just as the press of green faces merged together before the doors, cutting off the Doctor's retreat. Siharal set the young Skyborn upon the floor. Rhanda, who was kneeling beside Jo feeling for a pulse at her neck, looked up. Her face was grim. "This one's dead. She's not breathing." Siharal put a finger to Prak's throat, feeling for a pulse. There was no tell- tale pulsing of the vein. The skin had a cold, glassy feel to it, from which Siharal recoiled. "Prak's dead, too," he said, turning to Rhanda. The young woman was pressing rhythmically upon the girl's chest. After several thrusts, she leaned down, took the girl's chin in one hand, pinched the nostrils closed with the other, pressed her mouth over the girl's, and filled the girl's lungs with her breath. "What are you doing?" Siharal demanded. "A resuscitation technique I learned once," Rhanda explained as she resumed pressing rhythmically upon the girl's chest. Siharal had never seen or heard of any such procedure; and he wondered where this frighteningly competent young Temple Guard Officer had come by such a technique; but that was a question for another time. He watched her a few more seconds, then set to try and emulate Rhanda's actions on the young Skyborn. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- The Doctor found himself in a contracting sphere of clear air. Overlapping faces pressed closer with each passing second, slowed only by the warding power of the probe. Once its power was exhausted?... The Doctor tried not to think about that; instead he directed his mind to finding a solution. Because if he failed to come up with something in the next few seconds, it would not be only his own life which would be forfeit, but this entire system, and perhaps even the galaxy. His own death did not concern him overmuch. What appalled him was the kind of havoc the Parasite might be able to wreak upon the universe if it assimilated his knowledge and experience. The galaxy would not stand a chance. A green tentacle lashed out at him. He parried the thrust with the probe. With a silent shriek of agony, the Parasite recoiled from the contact. It gave the Doctor the ghost of an idea. He moved in the direction of the antique console, which could only just be made out through the shimmering faces. The Parasite grew even more agitated; but it drew back away from any contact with the probe. The mass of green tinted faces danced before his face, screaming a soundless paean of hate. The visages of Jo and Prak, who had been foremost in the press, had faded suddenly when the young man and Jo had been carried through the portals of the TARDIS. Now, just as the Doctor was inches from reaching the console, the face of Jo fluttered. An expression of unutterable panic further twisted the vision of the girls face a moment before the face winked out of existence. Prak's flickered out a moment later. The Doctor reached the console. Fending off a furious assault by lashing tentacles with the probe, he ripped off a side panel. Kneeling, the Doctor began to work one-handed at the wiring whilst dividing his attention between that task and fending off the ever darting tentacles with the probe. He was acutely aware that time was running out. A particularly tricky manipulation claimed a larger part of his attention, so he did not see the green tendril which sneaked past his defences, darting for the skin of his neck. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- A shape moved out of the trees to the left. Babydoll started violently, her wandering thoughts dragged back to the immediate peril of their situation. She swung up the shotgun, her finger already tightening on the trigger, before she recognised the compact form of Zangkai, the Servii Standard Bearer. She let her breath out in an explosive rush. "Dammit! Pay attention," Baby doll warned herself under her breath. She was supposed to be acting as rear-guard. The survivors of the battle under the World's Edge were making a forced march to the river. With half the Lords crazed forces on their heels, she needed to stay alert. Here and now was most definitely not the tine to become distracted; but she couldn't seem to get a hold on her wayward thoughts. It was the kiss. The memory kept pushing its way into the front of her mind. It would crowd out all other considerations, given half a chance. She could still taste the odd mixture of ice-cream and blood; but it was not the flavour of Bella's mouth which troubled her so; it was all the things she had so assiduously buried before leaving the Back-Doubles which Bella's brief and brutal caress was forcing her to confront, which was giving her so much trouble. As if drawn by invisible strings stronger than her will, Babydoll's gaze filtered back to Bella. The slender woman had stopped some twenty yards ahead in a patch of bright moonlight shining between the widely separated trunks. Spotlighted by the shaft of silvery moonlight, Bella reached up and swirled off her cloak. She handed it up to Cain, who rolled it and draped it over a shoulder. The way the moonlight gleamed on Bella's profile made Babydoll's breath catch; and the way the slim shoulders bunched and stretched... And the way.... "Damn it!" Babydoll swore, and turned her gaze aside. As the pair moved off again, Babydoll's attention slid back to Bella. It was almost as though the shadows were caressing her slender body. Bella did not walk, Babydoll realised with a delicious tightening of her stomach, the woman floated. The sensuous sway of her hips as she moved held Babydoll in a trance of fascination. With an effort, Babydoll wrenched her gaze from the slender figure of Bella gliding through the patches of moonlight. Her gaze settled on the huge figure walking at her side, in a desperate effort to distract herself. Considering the hulking form of Cain brought her no peace of mind. The overwhelming malign force of the man's logic as he had explained the whys and wherefores of torturing the priest made her uneasy. He had been right... "Damn him!" His assessment was spot on. All her military training, all her subsequent experience, told her he had been right; she could feel the correctness of it all right down in her bones... And yet, she didn't want him to be right! She didn't like any of this one little bit. Then again, like had not been something which had concerned Babydoll overmuch until now. What mattered in the past had been getting the job done, getting paid, and whooping it up with her boys in the company bars and pleasure domes. What mattered now?... Once again Babydoll could not stop her gaze drifting back to Bella. To reassure her waning faith in her former rock-solid world-view, she tightened her grip on the shotgun. It didn't help with her confusion. A weapon had always been a natural extension of her arm. The familiar smooth hard feel had always made her heart race, sent little frissons of sensation to tingle along her nerves, expanded her awareness, and made her body taunt with anticipation. Now, the smell of oiled wood and metal, once such an exciting smell, made her feel faintly nauseous. Why Cain was hell bent on reaching the river she did not know. What Cain had in mind when they got there, Babydoll did not know either; and disturbingly, for once, she was not eager to find out. "I don't want to do this any more," Babydoll reiterated her thought of earlier that day. She was distracted from her confusion by an iridescent silvery glow which came up before the party in the gloom under the trees. It shimmered and shifted; and soon the effulgence was accompanied by the sound of water lapping. The gentle noise of the river rose slowly over the other night- time noises of the jungle. As they neared the river, the sound of the water swirling through the gnarled roots of the bank side trees made it seem as though the river was chuckling over some great joke, laughing at the folly of the Servii, these lovers of the dry and open deserts, invading its damp and closed domain. The Servii certainly had no love for either the river or the jungle. Babydoll could not quite force the word "afraid" from her mind at sight of the ferocious desert raiders treading among the trees. There was an extra swagger to their stride which suggested bravado rather than confidence to Babydoll, who had a good eye for the fighting spirit of soldiers, but "afraid?" Somehow, she could not quite bring herself to label their demeanour as "fear." She finally settled upon "fretful," and left it at that. The ghostly shimmering of moonlight on water took on a green tint as the party moved through the last few hundred yards to the riverbank. Here, the ground trended down steeply. The going became difficult due to the underbrush, which had been sparse under the trees, but here grew waist high. The rank vegetation was liberally spiked with rounded boulders of varying sizes, each one a potential twisted ankle, or worse. Cain suddenly leaned over and swept Bella into his arms. He pressed on through the greenery to the very brink of the river. Here, he stood Bella down on a flat boulder right at the water's edge. The sight of Bella standing in the moonlight staring out across the river at the remains of a ruined city made Babydoll's breath catch. The stab of jealousy she had experienced when Cain had swept up the girl was swamped by a more powerful emotion. For the first time in her short life, Babydoll was touched by a sense of the romantic; but before the unfamiliar emotion could really get to her, she became aware that Bella was pointing across the river, directing Cain's attention to something a hundred and fifty yards upstream. Babydoll came up behind the pair. She looked to where Bella was pointing. Rising above the crumbled and jungle grown ruins of the Lord's City, the Pyramid of the Lord stood against the stars. Its entire bulk was glowing a deep emerald green. "Whatever the hell's going on over there?" Babydoll asked of no one in particular. Cain glanced at her, an odd, grim amusement gleaming in his one good eye. He seemed about to make some acerbic reply, when he suddenly clutched at his head. He let out a long agonised groan. The large man swayed; and Babydoll instinctively put out a hand to steady him. With a sound like a giant TARDIS being strangled with white hot wires, the glowing green pyramid faded slowly from sight. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- As the ancient TARDIS dematerialised, all about the doctor, the seething green faces went still. He stood up, and peered round at the masks of hatred glaring blindly at him. For the Parasite, time was stopped. Taking his time now, the Doctor made a few adjustments to the controls before pressing a large button. The note of the TARDIS changed. Slowly, the raw chaos of the Vortex surfaced through the faces. The Parasite was sucked into the maelstrom and the eye-defying madness appeared to recede into an infinite distance. Surrounded once more by the stone walls of the control room, the Doctor reset the destination for the original point in space from which he had recently departed. After one quick perusal of the settings, he strode to the TARDIS and went inside. There was still the segments of the Parasite on the City which needed removing; but dumping it into the vortex would not be such an easy matter, as by now, it would be inextricably intermingled with the structure of the City. If there was no other way, then the City would have to be pushed into the Vortex to save the galaxy. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Between them, Babydoll and Bella lowered the big man to the ground. They knelt in the litter of the forest floor, one on either side of the unconscious Cain. Bella leaned over and placed a palm on his head, while Babydoll watched anxiously. "What the smeg's up with him?" she asked. "Backwash from that out of phase dematerialisation. Time Lords are very susceptible," Bella answered absently. The smaller girl's eyes were closed. There was a look of intense concentration on her face. She looks so beautiful, Babydoll realised suddenly. So startled was she by that unbidden thought, she almost missed Bella's next words. "There!" Bella exclaimed, "I've managed to stabalise his neural activity." A look of relief spread over her face, hardly visible in the gloom. "Will he be alright?" Babydoll asked. Bella's eyes opened. For just a moment, Babydoll fancied she caught the faintest of reddish glows in the girl's eyes, before they faded back into pools of shadow. "He'll be fine... Just as soon as that TARDIS comes back." "TARDIS?"Babydoll asked. "The pyramid," Bella explained. "The entire construct is a very specialised TARDIS. Unless whoever took it brings it back within the next couple of hours..." she waved a hand to indicate the comatose Cain stretched on his back, "Cain is going to literally lose his mind." After a statement like that, there were many questions Babydoll knew she ought to be asking. The trouble was that she had ceased to care about the answers. The vision of Bella kneeling across the body from her, framed by soaring trunks, before a backdrop of silvery shimmering light dancing on the river, had simply made everything else in the world irrelevant to Babydoll. Still on an adrenalin high from the fighting earlier, she was suddenly filled with the kind of courage which had died in a little dell hidden in the farmlands of the Back Doubles. Then a spontaneous kiss had ended it...... And then, pressed up against the study wall in Cain's TARDIS, another kiss had revived that courage. Tentatively, she reached down a hand and lay it over Bella's hand, which was feeling for Cain's heart beats. The girl started and looked up in time to receive Babydoll's inexpert kiss, half upon her lips and half upon her left cheek. Still a little appalled at her own bravery, Babydoll pulled back... And a terrible cold weight froze the butterflies in her stomach at the expression on Bella's shadowed features. There was a long silence, disturbed only by the night sounds of the jungle, the gurgling of the river, the quiet voices of the Servii clustered nearby, and the even breathing of Cain. Then Babydoll said, her voice a mixture of dread and rising alarm. "Isn't that what you wanted? Bell... I thought... I thought..." She faltered into an uneasy silence. For the life of her, she could not quite place Bella's expression. Anger? self- loathing? fear? resignation? regret? it was all of these - and more, Babydoll realised at last, melded together into an acute anguish. Babydoll found it hard to credit that so much emotional pain could be contained on such a small thing as bella's beautiful face. The noises of the jungle filled up the silence. At last, bella looked down to study their clasped hands, Bella began to speak in a low voice. "It's not that. You know it's not that. It's too late now for that. It was too late before you were born... It was too late for us even before your grandmother was born. I have a confession to make. I can do it now, now that..." She glanced over at the place where the pyramid had stood appeared to change her mind about that, and looked down at the rugged features of the comatose Cain. "Now While he is like this I am free to say the things that must be said." She looked up, deep into Babydoll's fearful gaze and lifted Babydoll's hand to her lips. She planted a longing kiss upon the fingers enfolded the hand in both of her own, pressed it to herself, and began to speak again. "A long time ago, a long, long time ago, I was contracted to kill Cain. I didn't do it, as you can see; but there is a penalty for disobedience and the price of my absolution remains Cain's blood. The price is too much; but I cannot endure the penalties forever. And.... And..." Bella suddenly crushed Babydoll's fingers to her lips, threw the hand from herself and rose like a snake uncoiling. She turned and took a few steps towards the shimmering river, stopped, and stood a slender form against the silver light of river and stars. Babydoll rose, stepped over the prone Cain and moved up close behind the smaller woman. She laid a hand upon the pale skin of the naked shoulder. Bella was trembling. "What is it, Bell? What's the matter? What is this all about?" Babydoll asked more afraid for some reason than she could ever recall being waiting for the jump off before action. Bella drew in a long, calming breath before speaking. "Babyd.... Mary.... When the time comes to kill me, please do not hesitate. Promise me you will not hesitate... When the time comes." Ripping into the silence which followed, came the shrieking agony of the pyramid's return. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- The heavy sound came again. Zangkai signed for the Skyborn to stay back while he edged forward through the bushes screening whatever it was making that noise. Zangkai was concerned that it was down-wind of their position; not only could he not scent the creature, but their own scent was being carried towards the thing. From the ponderous sounds it was making, the creature was huge, possibly as huge as a gurvuk. Zangkai had a nasty suspicion that it was a Gurvuk-Na, one of the wild cousins of the Gurvuk. The ferocious creatures hunted in packs, and were quite useless as beasts of burden due to their uncompromisingly savage nature. Zangkai was just reaching to part the bushes to get a look to confirm his identification, when there came a sudden scrabbling sound beyond the bushes. A frightful cry, pain- wracked and piteous, split the smothering air of the jungle. The cry was cut off abruptly by a rhythmic slapping sound. Had he been in his beloved desert homeland, and the noise had come from behind a great boulder, Zangkai would have had no hesitation in striding around to discover whatever the creature might be. In this frightful alien land, however, he decided that discretion was the better part of valour. He raised the new rifle that Cain had supplied, intending to shoot the creature, unseen. Before he could squeeze the trigger, Marduk did something which almost got him killed. With a low cry of "no!" he pushed up the rifle barrel. Zangkai rounded on him savagely, intending to vent all his loathing of this horrible jungle upon the smaller man. Fangs gnashing, he swung up the rifle with the intention of clubbing Marduk into some respect for the Servii; but the man was ignoring him; he had already turned his back. Marduk carefully parted the screen of bushes. Revealed in the moonlit glade beyond was a Skyborn bird. Its white dappling was almost glowing in the silvery illumination. The bird still wore a saddle. Even in the poor light, the leather looked weather worn and frayed. Dangling from the bird's hawk-bill was a Giant River Rat. The bird was thrashing its head from side to side, beating the life out of the unfortunate rodent against the bole of a tree. Managing to check his rage, Zangkai asked, "What durst a filthy flying creature of the Skyborn here? Why should it not be despatched forthwith?" Among the Servii, the Skyborn Birds were as hated as their riders. Besides which they were far too tough, even for a Servii's fangs, to make really good eating. "It's obviously a feral bird, gone wild from our flocks," Marduk said; "but we can use it." "How? What use be it to us if it be wild?" Marduk looked up into that hideous three-eyed gaze and said quite blandly. "I can charm it. We have an affinity for our birds that you barbarians could never understand." That was true, Zangkai mused. The attempts to ride the birds had ended in such carnage that the Servii had soon given up on it. The birds hated the Servii with a genetically induced viciousness which matched the Servii's own hatred, a particularly poisonous brew simmered in the pot of long and bitter experience. Zangkai seriously doubted the Skyborn's ability to tame the creature. The sight of the bird bashing the life out of the rodent seemed to predict the outcome of any attempt to approach it. However, Zangkai was not a Servii to stand in the path of a Skyborn bent on such a courageous action, especially as he could not lose by Marduk's foolhardiness. If, by the grace of some benign God Marduk succeeded, they would get the use of the bird for whatever the Skyborn had in mind. If he failed, as seemed all too likely... Well, the world would be rid of one more of the Skyborn vermin. Marduk began to make a low clucking noise in his throat. Instantly the bird stopped thrashing the rodent. It raised its head to peer around. Its large eyes glowed a baleful yellow in the moonlight. Continuing to make the noise, Marduk very slowly pushed through the bushes into plain sight of the creature. A crest of thin feathers rose on the bird's head. It dropped the rat. Eyeing the man stalking towards it, the bird crouched low to the ground. The wary bird half spread its wings as it readied to spring. Marduk stopped, and stood still as a rock. The only movement was the working of his throat as he changed the clucking to a low crooning. For many long seconds, the bird remained tensed to spring. Then it relaxed ever so slightly, and turned its head to regard the little man standing fearlessly before it, first with one great eye, then the other. Slowly, the crest settle back onto its head. The bird rose to its full height, and seemed to lose all interest in Marduk. It put a huge clawed foot on the rat, and tore the creature in half with its beak. Marduk relaxed. He strolled casually up to the bird. Whence he was close enough, he reached out a hand and began to smooth down the neck feathers. A moment later, he was settled in the saddle, a huge, though somewhat relieved, grin on his face. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- "I should go with her," Bella said. There was an odd eagerness, even desperation in her tone. "Why?" asked Cain. A hint of suspicion gleamed in his one good eye. There was something about Bella's request which worried him. You could not live with a person for decades, do the kind of insanely dangerous things they had done together, trusted their lives to each other, and not come to know that person through and through. It was evident that Bella was aware of his suspicion; and she seemed to be trying to hide her chagrin at having burst out with the request. There was a long thoughtful pause while everyone watched her standing on the rock idly stroking the bird's neck. Then she looked directly up into Cain's one good eye. It was almost as though she was challenging his trust in her, when she said , "I have to go. I can see much better at night than any of you; and you are too heavy for the bird to carry with Geta; and this bird is not going to fly for anyone here but Geta or Marduk." Cain could not fault her there. They needed information on what was going on in the ruined city. They needed it now; He couldn't go himself. Bella was his next best choice; but she could not go alone; and calling Old Harry out of his pit this close to the Lord would be about as sensible as pouring petrol on a forest fire. At last, Cain nodded slowly. "Ok, Babe," he assented slowly. Babydoll watching Bella, could swear that both relief and sadness passed through the slender woman, though Babydoll could not have said how she knew. After Cain had issued some instructions on what to look for, Bella mounted behind Geta. The rest stood back as Geta ordered the bird into the air. The great beast took a number of running steps, the last couple splashing up water, and launched itself at the sky. Immediately, it banked to the right, and faded into the dark down stream as it beat its way up into the sky. The sound of mighty wings thrashing the air was soon drowned in the burble and chuckle of the river. Babydoll moved up beside the big man, who continued to stare after the vanished bird. "Something the matter, Boss?" she asked. He did not move for so long she thought he was going to ignore her. Babydoll had all but given up on getting an answer when he swung round on her. "Check out the perimeter," he ordered brusquely. "They can't be far behind us, even with that Priest fogging our back trail. I don't want them to get close enough to rile up Rahaaz and his boys. We're too exposed here; and there's nowhere to fall back. Rahaaz and his boys will never swim the river. I don't want them charging such a large force. I need at least some of them alive. Now get to it." There was a real snap of authority in that last command; and Babydoll found herself obeying it unconsciously. As she faded back into the jungle to check on their pursuers, Cain continued to stand at the river bank staring across the noisy water at the now dark pyramid. It seemed like a conical hole in the sky. "Don't do it, Bel," he whispered to himself. "Don't make me have to kill you... Too." ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Taronadundar was not happy. "Join us. There are always openings for a top rank tech like yourself. We'll pay you well for your time and trouble. But best of all, you get a trip off this mausoleum of a world, and to see something of the wonders of this galaxy. Your mind is rotting away here." A trip off Gallifrey was the one temptation the tall, blond haired tech could not resist. For someone of his position in the scheme of things, a trip off-world was all but impossible. He stared around himself at the vast crowded space of the engine room. Most of the view was lost in darkness; and those parts of it which were illuminated by the working lights were tarnished, decayed and falling to bits - and that was not taking into account any of the half melted mess someone had made of the main generators. The sight of the wreckage was not the sort of thing Taronadundar had expected to be viewing when he'd listened to that scrawny old Time Lord. The strange fellow had worn none of the usual identifiers of house or family. Taronadundar had thought that odd, but given it little real consideration. The ancient Cardinal had spoken so persuasively that Taronadundar had been convinced that this work for a grouping of Time Lords, of whom he'd never heard, would get him off Gallifrey. So here he was, out among the stars. He sighed wearily, and hefted his case of tools. Someone had done a real number on the drive generators. Without the kind of heavy engineering back up he knew he could expect on this job, even with his level of skill in repairing machinery, there would have been little that he could have done to get this hunk of junk into some sort of order. Maybe afterwards, when the engines were running again, he would get to see some of the sights of the galaxy he had been promised. Taronadundar moved to a nearby panel. The bright colours of his loose coverall were muted in the uncertain light. Setting his box down, he took a firm grip on a handle recessed into the access door of a chest-high metal cabinet. He had to lean on it with some weight before the handle clicked down; and the panel popped loose from its mounting. With both hands, he took a hold on the flaking metal and lifted the panel away. There was a sudden fierce crackling in the metal, which made him jump back. Flickers of greenish lightning danced along the edge of the panel, spitting off a shower of rust. A thin tendril of green light struck at his hand; but Taronadundar dropped the panel before it made contact with his fingers. The metal cover clanged noisily on the floor, just missing his toes. He scowled, and brought a small com unit to his mouth. "Jaranodo, what in Rassilon's name are you playing at? There's power in the cable linkages in the number one engine room. Check and make absolutely certain those circuit breakers are out will you? I need to make a start on those power line interfaces on the number one lift unit." He paused for a response; but when the only response was the hiss of static, he asked, "Jaranodo? Do you hear me?" There was no response. Taronadundar glared at the com unit, fiddling with its tiny control panel, not noticing the thin tentacle of green light questing towards his ankle. Then a tingling along his nerves brought his head snapping up. There was a TARDIS about to insert itself into the contimuum in his vicinity. He was still staring around at the shadows, wondering where it was going to materialise, when the green tentacle wrapped itself about his ankle. Taronadundar's scream of agony echoed from the metal walls, before it was drowned out by the wheezing of the TARDIS materialisation. By the time the blue box had fully materialised, the thing which still looked like Taronadundar, except for the greenly glowing eyes, had melted back into the shadows. In its hand it clutched a high powered welding laser. Holding a red box from which projected a small silver antenna, the Doctor stepped warily from the TARDIS. His hair was combed and neat. He was elegantly attired in velvet smoking jacket and ruffled shirt, having taken the opportunity to change his clothes and tidy up, while the TARDIS brought them back to Avis City. He waved the scanner around. It emitted an urgent beeping. The Doctor smiled grimly. He glanced back at Siharal and Rhanda, who were just emerging from the blue box. "It's here. Stay close... And be careful," he warned the pair. Rhanda looked suddenly pale. "You don't have to remind me to be careful, Doctor," she said with feeling. "You should stay inside the TARDIS," the Doctor suggested. "You'll be safe from the Parasite in there, while I check on its progress." Rhanda stiffened at the suggestion. It was almost as though she saw the suggestion as some sort of denigration of her reputation. "I'll be alright," she assured sharply. The Doctor gave her a long, searching look before he turned back to the scanner read-out. Siharal was peering around at the hulking machinery. His expression said very clearly that he was still having some difficulty with the concept of instantaneous travel. However, he was unable to dispute the evidence of his own eyes; for he definitely recognised the ruined number one engine room. Rhanda, after a quick look around, directed her attention to the TARDIS. She touched a hand to the box. "It's still a blue box," she said, a note of surprise in her voice. She glanced around at the scene of dilapidation, before she bent a puzzled look upon the Doctor. "Why is it still a blue box? I thought..." The Doctor shut off the scanner with a snap, and slipped it into a pocket. "The Chameleon Circuit is jammed," he said tersely. "I keep meaning to fix it, but just cannot seem to find the time... Which is just as well, since the Lord's Pyramid has a disruption field of a particularly nasty design guarding it." "What's a Chameleon Circuit?" asked Siharal. "A feature of the TARDIS which enables it to blend in with its surroundings," the Doctor explained. "My TARDIS circuit got jammed in the shape of what you see there. It can be a bit of a nuisance at times; but in this case, it was what saved us from being torn to pieces by the field." Aware that he now had a very attentive audience, the Doctor went on with his explanation. "The field acts upon the protean structures of the Chameleon Circuit. It uses its plasticity against the intruding TARDIS. The field takes control and reforms the plasmic shell into something entirely inappropriate for the situation, which is just about any form other than the primary plasmic shell, when the TARDIS is in the Vortex. The kind of disruption field around the pyramid has been outlawed for millennia. If the High Council ever got word that one was in operation here, I would say that there would be some very unpleasant consequences." The Doctor pinned Rhanda with a hard look, containing a deal of accusation. To her credit, Rhanda returned his gaze levelly. Siharal raised an eyebrow. "Unpleasant consequences?" he echoed. The by-play between Rhanda and the Doctor had not gone unnoticed. Siharal fell to wondering what it all meant. This was the third time the Doctor had directed enigmatic and pointed remarks at Rhanda; and the third time that the Temple Guard Officer had ignored them. Still glaring hard at Rhanda, the Doctor said, "they might just decide to remove this entire system from the space-time continuum." In the shadows, the thing which had recently been Taronadundar, took careful aim with the laser welder at the trio by the blue box. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- "What the smegging hell's up with those big green bastards," Babydoll grumbled to herself as she ducked under a whistling club. She moved in close. Gagging on the rank stench of the fur, she rammed the barrel of the shotgun under the chin of the Golden Ape, and squeezed the trigger. Her last shell went off with a deafening boom. The ape's head blew apart in an explosion of red pulp. Babydoll wrenched the twitching body around to her right in time to block a spear thrust, before shoving the body into the path of another ape, and taking a step back. In the momentary respite from the press of screaming apes, she shot a worried glance at the ring of Servii standing in the moonlit clearing behind her. In the middle of the group stood the slave brat. Her diminutive figure was dwarfed by the Servii. They had been guarding the girl like she was the crown jewels all the way from the World's Edge. The desert raiders seemed transfixed by the girl, standing still as green statues, completely oblivious to the marauding apes. Babydoll swayed aside from another spear thrust, rammed the barrel of the empty gun into the face of the ape, and heard the crunch of bones. The ape's head snapped back. It gave a gurgling scream of agony. Broken fangs and hot blood sprayed over Babydoll's face. She backed up another step towards the tree against which she had chosen to make her stand. More apes were crowding forward, scrambling eagerly over the bodies of their dead fellows. Babydoll reversed the gun to use as a club, wiped the dark blood from her face, and shot another glance at the ring of Servii. They had chosen a bloody inconvenient moment to have a religious experience, she thought. Any moment now, an ape was going to notice the group of Servii; and the jig would be up for good. Then she had no more time to dwell upon the odd behaviour of the Servii. From her left, a huge bull ape with a golden mane came crabbing at her, clutching a stout, stone headed spear. At the same moment, from her right, another leapt in with upraised club. Babydoll raised the shotgun to block the club. The two weapons came together with a staggering impact. The gun was jarred from Babydoll's grasp. It went spinning away out of reach among the crowd of apes. A mighty roar of triumph went up from the maned bull, who thrust at her exposed middle. Dragging out her dagger, Babydoll tried to wriggle aside. In the instant before the spear took her an inch above the belly button, an image of Bella flashed in her mind. Then the breath was punched out of her as the spear went home. It was no help that the tree was close at her back. Instead of being able to fade back and lessen the impact, her back went against the tree; and she was pinned against it by the spear. A blast of agonising pain ignited sparks in her head. The world got very distant for a moment; but her combat trained reflexes went right on fighting for her. By the time her vision had cleared, the bull was staggering back, clutching its throat in a futile attempt to stem the bubbling tide running through its fingers. Babydoll sank to her knees, clutching at her abdomen. The poly fibre body suit, with its integrated ceramic plates, was more than adequate to stop any penetration by a stone tipped spear; but the force of the blow would at the very least leave her badly bruised, and most likely with internal injuries. Babydoll sucked in an experimental breath, trying to gauge how grievously she was hurt; but the apes gave her no time. Gripping its club with both hands, an ape sprang at her. The snarling creature swept the weapon on high, intending to smash in her head. Where the smegging hell was Cain when you needed him? Babydoll thought bitterly. Tightening her grip on the dagger, she prepared to duck inside the arc, and disembowel the creature. It wouldn't be enough to stop the mad animal from smashing her spine; but at least she'd get one more of the mangy creatures. The three eyes of the ape were glaring down at her through its upraised arms. The mouth was agape in a snarl, fangs flashing. Hot breath, feotid and spittle flecked, blew in her face. She tensed to drive the blade up into the exposed groin. Then, for no apparent reason, a look of puzzlement came over the snarling face. The expression rapidly turned to terror. The club dropped from nerveless fingers. The ape sprang away, its eyes starting from its head, the hair all over its body standing up as though it had been electrocuted. Uttering a thin scream, it fled, tearing and shoving at its companions in its desperation. All the apes were in headlong flight. Slowly, using the tree for support, Babydoll got to her feet. She winced at the cramping pain in her middle. She invoked the pain control techniques instilled by her Merc training, and turned to se what had panicked the apes. Had she not been so winded, she might have joined then in their headlong flight. As it was, she was compelled to stand there, leaning heavily on the tree, staring in superstitious horror at what was unfolding in the glade. -----------------------------------------------------------------------