They dropped out of the time-stream and into a high orbit around Devia, but Anna never knew it. Gallifreyen technicians disengaged her from the dan drive and carried her to her room. Alan was waiting, but she didn't remember that either. Alan did. Now, several hours later, he grinned ruefully at her across the conference table. Most of the bruises had faded already, but looking at the ones remaining made her uncomfortable.
"We have scanned the planet," announced Dr. Vivandrakana, the Gallifreyens' head scientist. "There is no sign of the Doctor's TARDIS. There are, however, emanations from a TARDIS that is definitely not in our records."
This bit of intelligence distressed the other Gallifreyens; Romana frowned. "That's not possible. Even the antique Type Ones are registered. Are you certain, Viv?"
Vivandrakana shrugged. "I've submitted a request to consult the Matrix. Something might turn up there, but I doubt it. Registry files have never been a matter of deep security. My theory is that it's one of Rassilon's prototypes."
Stunning information for the Gallifreyans - they stared at him, speechless.
"What about the other danships?" Alan asked. "I thought you said they were on their way, but our long range scanners aren't picking up anything - not that I've found anyway."
Romana shook her head. Anna got the impression that nothing was going according to the Timelords' plan. "The danships, all three of them, dropped off our monitors on Gallifrey about ten minutes ago -- just disappeared a few systems short of Earth. The pattern of temporal disturbance suggests they dematerialized."
"Then we'll just have to wait for them to re-materialize," Alan said reasonably. "They are coming to Devia. I doubt they've any other destination in mind."
"They'll be coming into an interesting situation," Anna pointed to her own research, coming up on the screens in front of them. "There's been fighting in and around several of their largest cities, although it appears to be winding down. Some small skirmishes here and there continue to pop up across the countryside, but they're fairly isolated. Whatever has happened here is over -- or very nearly so, but I think we should send a team to the surface before the Dev get here. "
"Too dangerous," Romana said automatically.
"Maybe so," was Anna's even response, "but I'm going anyway. Danner and Palas are down there -- and the Doctor. We've learned all we can from the ship. With all the chaos down there, now is our best chance. When the Dev do reappear, who is to say they're going to cooperate with us?"
Romana looked across the table at the other Gallifreyens. There were nods. She sighed and shrugged. "Very well. But be careful."
****
Cautiously, the Doctor opened the TARDIS door. Bastar and Kam, his hapless alorin assistants, were where he had left them, hovering above the console. Their mouths dropped.
"Works fine now!" he announced cheerfully. "How are those readings, Kam?"
"S -- s -- steady, sir!"
"What happened?" demanded Miyel. "What did you do?"
"Nearly killed myself," he replied airily. "One of the neurals was *completely* out of sync, but everything went right in the end, thankfully. The Sher'dana has her own danship now, Lady Miyel. It awaits only her direction."
Miyel smiled, clearly relieved. She kept glancing toward the door that led to the Challenge. "Very good, Doctor. You are an obedient servant. Benara will be pleased. You! Slaves!"
The alorin, abruptly terrified by her attention, bowed low.
"Leave us!"
They obeyed at once. She turned to the Timelord, drawing the whip from her belt. "Now, Doctor, shall we join the Sher'dana? Challenge is almost over. Perhaps we'll be in time to witness the death blow."
"What death blow? Benara promised she would spare Palas' life!"
"Did she?" Malice was in Miyel's bright smile. "Perhaps she has changed her mind. Benara is sometimes -- capricious."
Curling languidly around her heels, the whip made sinuous patterns against the floor. Her smile widened. The Doctor turned and hurried through the door.
The open space on the other side took him by surprise, even though he had expected something like this from his quick examination of Vis' rather eccentric conformational program. Miyel gave him no time to consider the paradox, however. A hard push between his shoulders set his steps toward the Eye and one of two short towers.
"Stay here!" Miyel ordered, pushing him against the tower wall.
The Doctor saw at once that the situation was grave, indeed. Another tower stood some distance to the right; Palas was barely upright atop it. Blood ran from her nose and mouth. Her flesh was gray, stretched tightly across sharp bones. All that held her in place was a glittering rope, binding her against the slender post at her back.
He turned his head and saw the bodies - naked, alorin corpses heaped carelessly behind Benara's tower. His hearts lurched at the sight of one body in particular, dark-haired, half buried in the heap. Miyel watched him, reveling in his distress. Anger rushed to supplant grief, but this was neither the time nor the place to act on it. The Timelord schooled his features to impassiveness and damped his psi output. There was nothing left to do but hope that the rest of his plans did not fail as spectacularly.
"Doctor!"
The Timelord tilted his head to see Benara smiling down at him. A fine trickle of blood showed beneath one nostril. She was pale and shaky, but otherwise unharmed. There were three alorin yet living in the walled circle at her tower's base. The pen beneath Palas' was empty.
"I would prefer that Vis was here to witness his own ultimate failure, but you will do. When this abomination is destroyed . . . " she gestured scornfully toward Palas, " . . . the danships will be all that remains of his heresy. And, thanks to you, they too will cease to be."
"You swore you would spare their lives!"
She laughed. "I am the Sher'dana of Devia," she retorted. "I will do as I please!"
"I thought as much!" returned the Doctor. "We are not all as trusting as Vis, my lady!"
From the corner of his eye, the Doctor saw movement where he did not expect it. He managed, somehow, not to show his surprise and the resulting surge of hope. Instead, holding Benara's darkening gaze, he stepped away from Miyel into full view of the tower. Something changed; there was a subtle difference in the song of the Eye. Benara, too, sensed it.
"Have a care, Doctor!" she cried, wariness replacing triumph. She motioned impatiently to her watchful attendants. They started toward him. At the edge of his vision, a pale shape vanished into the waving grasses.
The ground shook slightly and the warwitches faltered. Thunder rolled along the endless horizon. Behind him, Miyel gasped. A vortex appeared in the sky, churning the clouds, pulling them into a great, seething spiral. Another vortex appeared, farther away, then another. Lightning of all colors ran between them. The Eye's song became a howl.
From the heart of each vortex came a beam of crimson light. They met above the Eye, became one, and plunged deep into the heart of the fallen star.
"I thought I'd save you the trouble of hunting them down, my lady!" the Doctor shouted. "I brought the danships to you!"
***
Cthilian opened his eyes. Fever still sang in his blood, his bones ached with dull persistence, but for the moment, he was lucid.
"That's better, isn't it?"
There was a canopy over his head, deep blue and fringed with gold. Light slanted through a nearby window, warming the quilts heaped upon him. A tall, blond dana stood beside the bed, hypodermic needle in her hand
"I -- Lady Anna!" Weakly, he struggled to sit up. Cool hands pushed him back . . . and made him shiver with desire. "Lady, what are you doing here?"
"It's a long story, but at the moment, we are waiting for this Challenge thing to be over." The human high dana sat on a chair beside his bed. "Lord Sulinar has located the Sanctum, but can't get in. The Timelords, however, are working on that. Wrist, please."
"But how -- how did you get here? Is the time corridor open again?"
She shook her head. "No, actually, Cthilian, we came here aboard the danship."
"The ship? HERE?"
"So to speak - it's in orbit about twenty thousand miles above the planet. Wrist?"
"I don't know what's going on, Lady." He quickly pulled out his hand and watched anxiously as she took his pulse. "All I remember is the tunnel and Ksirin holding a knife to Djan . . ."
"Don't!" Her voice sharpened. "If you stress yourself, it will only precipitate the return of your symptoms. You've already had too much of the medication."
"Djan? Is he unharmed?" Cthilian tried not to sound as anxious as he felt, but Lady Anna smiled.
"He's fine, Cthilian, and asking to see you. Constantly," she added under her breath.
"May I see him?"
"I don't see why not, but first, there's someone else who wants a moment of your time. A Lady Shieann?"
"No!" He tried to keep the panic from his voice. "I - it would not be wise."
His voice trailed away as Lady Anna's eyebrows rose. "Lady Shieann is quite insistent." There was a gleam in the human's eye that he mistrusted absolutely. "Shall I tell her to go away?"
"N -- no. No."
"Good. I'll send her in."
Cthilian lay rigid beneath the quilts as Lady Anna left the room. His heart was pounding. He heard the door open and light footfalls cross the room to his bedside. Not daring to look at her, the ir'dan swallowed.
"Cthilian?"
"Lady?" he whispered.
"The Earth dana says that the fever is abated for a while. That your mind is clear."
He nodded, a short, jerky movement. The Need flowing out of her was doing terrible things to his self-control. Cthilian wanted to reach for her, pull her into the bed with him. The inappropriateness of those thoughts made him cringe.
"Ir'dan." Her voice was soft. "I am in Need."
He heard the ancient, ritual words -- understood them, and could not believe it.
"Lady," he pointed out "we are both in Need."
"I know," she said and then confounded him by sitting on the bed, well within his reach. His pulse hammered in his ears. Against his sides, his hands knotted tightly into fists.
"The chances," Cthilian said finally, carefully, "are very great that we would bond."
"I know that, too."
He wished desperately for Lady Anna to return. Had Lady Shieann slipped past the point of reason? She looked coherent enough, but he was not very experienced in judging these matters.
"Surely there is another ir'dan who is pleasing to you, Lady, and not in Need?"
"Likely, you're right, Cthilian." But still she did not move.
"Please don't do this, my lady," he begged finally. "You are in Need now, but what will happen when you are not? When the fire of aloridan is past?"
The vision of such a future was all too vivid. A beautiful, noble lady bound forever to some clanless slave, resenting her dependence upon him. Wishing him out of sight and mind. Year after lonely year, living at the edge of her life, a source of embarrassment and shame. It did not bear thinking about.
"You would have bonded with Katha, would you not?"
He felt the pain of that and closed his eyes. "Yes, lady, but that was before I knew everything I know now. She was ordered to lie with me and beget the Sil iri'dan, wasn't she?" Cthilian remembered Kel Raynig's angry accusation. "I was the stud asha, wasn't I?"
Lady Shieann was silent. He did not look at her - could not.
"She never loved me and I - *oh, Vis!* Did she even care about me a little?" It was impossible to keep the anguish from his voice. The ir'dan sat up, hands knotted in his lap, eyes burning. He refused to weep. That much pride he had left. "Or was it all pretense -- all the things she told me?"
"Cthilian, I don't know. Katha could not speak of it to us. It was too dangerous, surrounded as she was by Benara's friends. If it is any comfort, yes, I believe she cared about you. She trusted you to get Djan to Mzara, didn't she?"
He had nothing to say. The anger he fought to deny exploded within him. It was her son Katha wanted safe, and he had been the only means to accomplish that. Poor Cthilian, her besotted, alorin lover, believing everything she said to him, ready to lay down his life for her. A fool once, but not again.
"I am a slave," he said flatly. "If you order me to serve you, I cannot refuse."
"I will not do that," she said quietly. "If you truly wish it, I will go elsewhere."
Lady Shieann rose, reached out a hand, but at the last moment, drew it back. "I am not Katha," she said when the silence between them stretched too far. "She had ambition -- I'm afraid I have none. You will have a home in Mzara, Cthilian, no matter what happens between us. Djan is your son and he needs you. Mzara will not deny you that. And for what it is worth, Cthilian, I would have been proud to have you as a consort. You are kind and steadfast, and you have great courage. Katha was a fool."
And she was gone.
***
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"
Benara tore at the rope around her waist, Palas forgotten. She ran from the tower, looking always skyward. The ships had not moved. They hovered, keeping their distance, anchored to the ground by their energy umbilicals. Pushing her warwitches aside, she flew at the Doctor. He caught her hands as they clawed for his face. The Challenge had taken much of her strength and he easily held her off. Abruptly, the wild rage was gone. She pulled away, expression smoothing.
"To be honest, my lady, I'm not sure," he replied frankly. "Being inside a TARDIS and all- - the mathematics said it would work. Of course, mathematics was never my best subject. End this Challenge, now. You've larger problems than Palas."
"My problem is you, Doctor. I feel no Prime danae in those ships. It seems l'Shylian alone had that capability and you can see what it was worth!" She gestured scornfully toward the human. "You Timelords have been far greater trouble."
Benara lifted her hand and immediately there were warwitches around him. "Vis tried to stop me from returning our world to its true glory; now you are here to do the same. Do you expect me to believe this a coincidence?"
"No," he replied frankly, "I believe you are mad."
She smiled. "You think you can bait me into forgetting about the Exiles. I'm afraid not, Doctor."
As the warwitches seized him, the Doctor glanced toward the opposite tower. Palas slumped against the obelisk, head fallen forward, body limp. Another roll of thunder crashed over the plain. The Sher'dana started, looked up at what small portion of the vast ships could be seen.
"Some secrets Vis did tell me," she said. "One was how to open and close the Eye. Now what, Doctor, do you think will happen if I close the Eye now?"
He said nothing, but his hearts sank. In that moment, she struck - blasting into his mind with incredible force. Gasping, he staggered and pushed her out. She was gone at once, but she was laughing.
"As I thought!" she crowed. "Thank you, Doctor!"
****
Danner crouched in the grass, trying to will strength back into muscles that woefully lacked it. His stomach still churned from the horror of waking to find himself buried beneath flaccid, cooling corpses.
Don't think of that. Think of the problem at hand.
He had survived Benara. Had he the time, Danner would have enjoyed the irony. He was exactly what the Sher'dana had spent a thousand years breeding for, the legendary Sil iri'dan. However, it was unlikely she would ever know. It was plain that the Doctor had pulled another fast one. Those were danships up there, wreaking havoc with the clouds and the pulsating energy source that was the Eye. Benara seemed a bit upset, too. Danner had witnessed her dash from the tower. Her rage was a hot-spot against his inner eye.
Palas, on the other hand, was fading from his awareness and that scared him. The pull from the redhead was weakening, lending the force of adrenalin to his recovery. Keeping as low as he could, head down, he doggedly resumed his slow, painful crawl toward the tower.
He had never tried recharging another dana so soon after the first, didn't know if it was even possible. In the back of his mind, a frightened voice cautioned that he might -- just might -- be killing himself. He had barely the strength to move, let alone endure the violence he faced if he reached her.
Another tremor; Danner braced himself. If he collapsed, he would be unable to get up again. His surroundings dimmed, his frenzied pulse hammered in his ears. He crawled, one hand after the other, one knee after the other, tall grass brushing his face, fingers digging deep in the dry soil.
The tower was within reach. Had anyone seen him yet? He hard the Sher'dana shrieking, halfway expecting the warwitches to come after him. But no one came and he at last reached the back of the tower. Danner tried to mount the first step, but failed. He huddled there, trying for patience. He could feel his strength leaking back, but it was so slow in coming.
A moment, only a moment. Keep her busy, Doctor.
He tried again and made it. The first step was behind him, and the second. Danner was sweating now, arms and legs shaking so much he was in terror of sliding back to the ground. Another step. He could see Palas hanging in the ropes above him, very still.
A body lay chained to the slab at her feet - the last of her luckless alorin. Danner tried not to look at it or imagine the poor man's final moments. Careful to keep out of sight beneath the low retaining wall, he crawled to the obelisk and pulled frantically at the cord binding her in place. It gave way and she crumpled to the floor in front of him.
Finally - finally - he was recovering. The debilitating weakness faded by the second. He reached for Palas, rolled her over. Her eyes were closed, shadows like bruises beneath them. Lowering his head, Danner kissed her, the merest touch against her bruised lips. He felt his own desire sluggishly reawaken. Out of his sight, Benara was laughing.
"C'mon, Palas. Wake up!" he whispered. He kissed her again, forcing her unheeding mouth open. There was a sudden start; her eyes flew open.
"Good," he began, "now . . .AH!!"
Steely hands seized him. He was slammed onto his back beside her last victim. His head hit hard against the stone, and stars filled his vision. Wide, golden eyes held his with fevered intensity. There was no recognition in them, only voracious, unreasoning, irresistible hunger.
***
The Doctor stopped struggling. His
sudden docility earned suspicious scowls from his captors, but Benara,
satisfied that he was no danger, turned her back on him and approached
the Eye. Passing through the circle of danae, the Sher'dana
dropped to her knees beside the surrounding wall. Slender arms lifted
above it and held, motionless. She bowed her head. Desperately,
the Doctor looked toward Palas again. Danner should be there
by now - provided the blackstone had not collapsed of exhaustion.
The tower was empty. It was all he could do not to hug the surly warwitch holding his arm. Now - hope that Danner reached her in time.
A subtle shift in the danships' energy beams drew the Timelord's attention back to Benara. Her fingers danced across the top of the wall - a hidden control panel, most likely. Sudden discordance disturbed the Eye's song. His alarm deepened.
Deep grumbling vibrated the plain. A low, chorus of moans ran through the circle of danae. Benara leapt up, spun about, hair flying, eyes wide and wild. Behind her, the Eye's black shell re-emerged from the torn earth, began to close.
"Benara! No!" the Timelord cried, horrified. "Please! There are hundreds of thousands of Dev on those ships! Your own people!"
"Fool! The Exiles are no longer Dev!" she cried. "I care nothing for them!"
The shell was one quarter closed. The beams from the ships flickered and the plain groaned. Surrounding the Eye, danae screamed; several fell and lay, writhing. Benara ignored them, spinning back around and resuming her rapid entry of commands.
Lightning shot across the plain. A dana in its path shrieked and died. The warning was enough to save Benara's life. She flung herself sideways as another energy bolt impacted against the wall. Scrambling to her feet, she turned toward the opposite tower.
Red hair tumbling around her face, Palas faced her nemesis across the windy grassland. The Doctor's initial surge of relief turned at once to concern. The human did not look well. She clung to the obelisk as if it was a lifeline. There was no sign of Danner.
"Not done yet, eh?" Benara cried.
The return attack caught Palas squarely, hurled her back. Only her convulsive grip on the obelisk kept her standing.
"Get her!" Benara screamed at the warwitches. "I've no time for this!"
Palas got her feet under her again, turned to face the witches racing toward her tower. Four of them suddenly cried out and collapsed. The others leapt over the bodies and kept coming.
Benara bent over the wall and doggedly continued. More quakes rattled the plain. The Eye's shell was half-closed now. The energy beams from the danships flickered again and began to narrow.
Palas had her hands full, using what dwindling strength she still possessed to hold off the warwitches swarming up the tower. Benara hesitated. The Doctor started running, but realized almost at once he would not reach her in time. Frantically, he dug in his pockets. If he could find his screwdriver, he might be able to modulate the Eye's tonal frequencies, alter the signal just enough to prevent total disaster. It was, at best, a feeble hope.
His fingers closed around something hard and smooth. Not his screwdriver, but there was no more time. He tripped on the supine form of a warwitch, and flung the object with all his might. There was an audible crack, a startled squawk, and the Sher'dana collapsed neatly over the wall.
The Timelord bounded forward. He kicked the cricket ball out of his way, and hauled the unconscious Sher'dana from the wall, revealing the Eye's controls. A red line was crawling slowly across a narrow screen; the closing sequence was almost complete. Dropping to his knees, the Doctor began entering code. The Eye rumbled, energy output fluctuating madly. Hair rose on the back of his neck, soft voices teased him. Gritting his teeth, he forced his wandering attention back to his task. A few more keystrokes, a twist of a knob -- the red line stopped, began to recede.
A sharp blow on the back of his head knocked him forward. Crying out in surprise and pain, the Timelord twisted awkwardly to face his attacker.
Miyel!
Face contorted with rage, she reached for him, hauling him to his feet by his cravat before he could gather his scattered wits. There was a knife in her hand, the razor edge glittering in the Eye's baleful light. He reached desperately to break her hold, but was abruptly, unexpectedly released. Her eyes met his, wide and disbelieving. The next moment, she was falling forward, her momentum taking him down, as well. For a moment, he lay beneath her, dazed and bewildered.
"Ow! Owowowow!"
With a mighty shove, the Timelord pushed off the limp body and sat up. Danner was hopping up and down beside the Eye's control panel, holding his bare foot tightly and swearing. Miyel was dead, head bent at a grotesque angle. The Doctor lifted his eyes to the blackstone, who sat abruptly on the wall beside the Eye's controls.
"Cricket's your game," he shrugged, "football's mine. I recommend shoes, however."
"Danner!" From the tower, Palas
called anxiously. Danner waved, too tired now to speak. The
Doctor laid a hand briefly on the blackstone's shoulder and tried not to
look at the bodies that littered the plain. A great evil was gone,
but the price, as usual, was staggering.
Still, with the passing of every storm came
sunshine. A few yards to the left, the air shimmered. Another
pocket of instability rippled near the rightmost tower. As they watched,
a tall Dev materialized, several Protectors at his back. By the tower,
another group appeared, danae among them. They looked confused and
apprehensive, but filled with hope. The Eye hummed happily, throwing
its radiance against the clearing sky.
The Exiles were home.