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eponymous_roseTitle: The Deepsky Atlas (5/?)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
eponymous_rose
Word Count: 2251
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Adventure, Humour
Characters: Fourth Doctor, Harry Sullivan, Sarah Jane Smith
Summary: The silent lighthouse has many voices, the sun is setting, and the tables - as they were bound to do at some point - are turning.
Part One: Circinus
Part Two: Caelum
Part Three: Eridanus
Part Four: Setus
THE DEEPSKY ATLAS
CHAPTER FIVE
It was hypnotic, really, the sand swirling so far above the ground, flowing in long, rippling waves until it split into turbulent eddies near the lighthouse wall. Harry leaned as near to the window as he dared - it was certainly shaking enough under the onslaught of sand and wind to make him a bit wary - and watched the shadows outside resolve themselves into impossible shapes, then fade away again.
Hypnotic.
He recalled having heard about motorists dozing off while driving on winter roads, lulled by the patterns formed by blowing snow on the asphalt. It was easy, in a place like this, to understand why.
A hand clapped down on his shoulder; Harry jumped and spun round, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process. Caelum stood behind him, implacable, his distractingly piercing gaze fastened quite firmly on Harry.
Suddenly a bit on the nervous side, Harry glanced over the warrior's shoulder, hoping to spot Sarah or the Doctor, but realized that, while he'd been staring out the window, they must have continued their explorations without him. Utterly typical. He resolved to disappear without warning the next time they were approached from behind by a madman. A madman with a sword. He swallowed and forced a sickly grin.
"I did not startle you, I hope?" Caelum's voice was harsh, each syllable emphasized as though he were having to force out the niceties.
Harry could still feel his heart pounding. "Of course not," he said, and laughed unconvincingly. "Of course not, old chap."
"I must-" Caelum paused, straightened, and then his words were rushing out at a rate that, coupled with his gravelly voice, made them nearly impossible to understand. "I must apologize for my conduct towards your companion."
Harry felt a surge of anger that he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to control. Madman or not, some things were inexcusable. "Well, you-you pointed a bally sword at her! It's Sarah you should be apologizing to, not me!"
Caelum bowed. "If that is your wish," he said, and turned away, down the dimly lit corridor.
"Er, wait!" Harry called. Obediently, Caelum turned. "Look," Harry said, "not that I'm not grateful, but why are you treating me like this?"
Either Caelum was becoming more emotive, or Harry was getting used to the almost-expressions that flitted across his face - the swordsman looked downright baffled. "I have already informed you. I attacked you dishonourably when you were attempting to assist your companion, so my sword is yours by right."
"Ah," Harry said. He was quickly coming to the conclusion that conversations with Caelum had a habit of acquiring a ring of epic finality that made them nearly impossible to continue, but he struggled valiantly on. "And where your sword goes, you follow, I suppose?"
"It is so," Caelum said, and bowed his head. "I will now apologise to your companion."
"Sarah," Harry said, because the least the chap could do after threatening her life was to use her name now and again. "Her name is Sarah Jane."
"As you say," Caelum said, and started walking again.
Harry glanced back at the window, found himself lulled again by the whorls of rising sand, and only jolted back to awareness when a particularly powerful gust of wind rattled the window. "Lovely weather we've been having," he muttered to the wall, and turned to follow Caelum down the corridor.
Fortunately, the man's pace was as measured and drawn-out as his speech, so it was the work of moments to catch up with him. "Look," said Harry, "I've still got a few questions for you-"
Caelum froze, and Harry nearly ran right into him. "What-"
Harry glanced up at the warrior's face, and it was abruptly quite plain that something was terribly wrong. After the half-frowns and minute flickers of expression, the look on Caelum's face was a firm statement in bright print, signed and witnessed, attesting to the fact that things were a bit on the iffy side.
He grabbed Harry by the arm - his grip was powerful enough that Harry found himself cataloguing the latest set of bruises - and tugged him into an empty room to their left. Immediately, Harry felt a surge of panic; after all, the kitchen had been large enough, but this small space was far too reminiscent of the room that had come so near to caving in around them only hours earlier.
Twisting, Harry tried to remember back to his brief training with UNIT, back to how exactly he was supposed to go about breaking such a strong grip. He expected the manuals didn't have much to say about long-lived warriors with particularly firm handshakes. In the meantime, the hair at the top of his head felt like it was prickling, like it was expecting the first chunk of ceiling to fall, and he was beginning to feel distinctly claustrophobic.
Caelum leaned in close, and again his sword seemed to have jumped into his hand without any conscious effort on his part. "Stop struggling," he hissed, and Harry stopped, because it was difficult to argue with a statement like that, all things considered. Besides, the longer he stood in the room without finding the ceiling rather unceremoniously deposited on his head, the better he felt.
"What is it?" Harry said, and Caelum shushed him in a way that was bizarrely reminiscent of Harry's old nan. He lowered his voice and tried again. "What did you hear?"
"You," Caelum said in a whisper that was nonetheless perfectly clear to Harry's ears, "are evidently not a warrior."
And then Harry heard it, heard the impossible rumble of voices - many voices! - echoing in the corridors. "Now, just a minute!" he whispered. "You said you were the only one here."
Caelum's eyes were haunted. "I am. This is impossible."
"Well," Harry murmured, more to himself than to Caelum, "at least it's familiar ground, then, eh?"
And then Caelum gave up on his more subtle methods of hushing Harry in favour of clapping a hand over his mouth. "Do you ever stop prattling?" he whispered, and before Harry could reply the voices suddenly increased in volume, accompanied by the shuffling of feet and the rustling of long robes.
They lurked in the doorway as the procession - a whole procession, dozens of people in this abandoned place! - passed through the corridor, murmuring softly amongst themselves in words Harry couldn't quite catch over the noise of the sandstorm at the windows, and over the sound of his own rapid breathing.
The figures rounded a corner up ahead, and it wasn't until they had passed mostly from earshot that Caelum released Harry. "Let us follow," Caelum said, and Harry, rather in spite of a sudden shakiness around the knees, found himself doing just that.
They followed the procession at quite a distance - there were several moments where Harry was quite convinced they'd lost the group, but Caelum proved himself to be a sort of stoic bloodhound, keeping them just out of sight of the intruders without losing their tail. In spite of himself, Harry was quite impressed; the warrior would probably make a very fine detective if he could curb his more violent tendencies.
It took Harry some time to realise that they'd been heading downwards - the floors slanted in ways that probably reflected some bizarre futuristic architecture, and there were surprisingly few flights of stairs - but soon they were facing a set of windows that seemed to be approximately at ground level.
They'd nearly caught up the strange procession, and Harry didn't need Caelum's prompting to remain as silent as possible. "This is the lowest floor," Caelum whispered. "There is no lower. Where are they going?"
Harry resisted the urge to shush him - he'd heard of finding friendship in times of danger, but he doubted Caelum would have a particularly good sense of humour over the whole thing. In silence, they watched the procession separate into individual members, men and women and-and some sort of unidentifiable creature that appeared to be half-man and half-vegetable, all wearing robes of white and beige.
From his limited but growing experience, Harry was learning to be wary of people who murmured and dressed in long robes.
And then one of them touched a stone on the wall, and there was an alarming creak. Harry automatically registered the position of the stone - after all, secret passages were becoming something of a matter of course; a little knobby thing where you least expect, and hey-presto, there you were in a mysterious laboratory. He turned to convey this to Caelum, and so nearly missed what happened next.
The floor gave way under the procession.
As Harry started forward, a series of solid thumps announced the mysterious figures' inelegant arrival in the basement. The stone floor rolled solidly back into place.
"We must follow," Caelum said, pushing past him.
Harry frowned and tried to estimate how far the robed procession must have fallen. "Shouldn't we see if there's another way? Discretion being the better part of valour and all. For all we know, this could have been some sort of suicide pact!"
Caelum's eyes were large, and he was staring at Harry in some surprise. Harry was beginning to wish he'd go back to the stoic lack of expression - it was much less alarming. "Then you did not hear?"
"Didn't hear what?"
Caelum had his sword in one hand, and was probing at the wall with the other. Harry moved to stand beside him, deciding that, if he was going to risk his life, it may as well be with the chap with the sword. "The man who led them. He spoke of two prisoners."
"Sarah and the Doctor," Harry breathed.
Caelum's eyes met his. "There was also talk of a sacrifice. We must follow and try to prevent this."
Before Harry could respond, the floor promptly disappeared under his feet, and he was falling, falling, and instead of the room caving in on him he had the confused impression that he was caving in on the room-
He landed, on his back but not uncomfortably, on a large mattress of some sort, and was nearly bounced to his feet when Caelum landed beside him, in a perfect crouch. Trying to regain equilibrium, Harry stumbled after his companion - Caelum was already scanning the area, sword at the ready, but he relaxed almost immediately.
"They have passed into the chamber beyond," Caelum said.
"Well, good," Harry said, and started forward with the half-formed idea of rescuing Sarah and the Doctor through careful discussion and wit - or, failing that, with a few well-placed thumps from Caelum.
The warrior grabbed him by the shoulder. "Don't be foolish," he said. "We will not be able to assist your friends by getting killed. The men carry daggers - the shape beneath the robes is unmistakeable."
"Listen," said Harry, "I can't just leave Sarah and the Doctor to be murdered-"
"That is not what we will do," said Caelum. "We will listen, and then we will consider, and then we will act."
This seemed reasonable enough, but Harry wasn't entirely against abandoning his initial plan if the need arose. "All right," he said, and together they proceeded towards a faint glow, and the sound of voices grew.
And then one voice broke out above the others, with such clarity that Harry stumbled to a halt, certain they'd been discovered. Caelum pulled him into a dark corner, and he realised that one of the robed fellows was giving some sort of speech.
"We have not been discovered," Caelum whispered.
But Harry was rather more interested in what the robed figure was announcing to his assembly. "The sacrifice," the man boomed, "shall be carried out by tomorrow dawn. Already the victims are here with us - two strangers to serve the great Dorado's cause. We are truly blessed to have them."
Caelum slipped out from the corner, beckoning for Harry to follow, and together they tiptoed unseen behind the backs of the nearest figures, ducking into a convenient alcove.
"Their deaths will be slow, of course," the man continued, and the crowd seemed rather delighted at this prospect. "Pain is pleasure."
Harry, who rather disagreed with that particular point of view, was peering over the shoulders of the nearest vegetable-creature, but there was no sign of Sarah or the Doctor - just a large, round stage with a sort of podium in front, one that was probably amplifying the leader's voice to echo around such a massive antechamber. In fact, there was no sign of any sort of prisoners, but there was such a restless anticipation in the air-
Caelum stiffened. "Where are they?" he breathed, in a voice so low that Harry scarcely heard it at all.
"Why," the man at the podium said, "they are in this very room."
The figure before them turned, suddenly, a rictus of a grin spreading across his faintly cabbage-shaped head. The woman next to him turned, and the man beside her, and suddenly the whole assembly was staring right at them.
"The sacrifice of two," the leader said, with a dramatic sweep of his arms. "And they've come straight into our arms."
Caelum raised his sword menacingly, at which point the nearest dozen robed figures pulled out wickedly curved daggers.
Harry swallowed. "Er," he said, and his voice was small in the sudden stillness. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to settle this over a cuppa?"
Author:
eponymous_roseWord Count: 2251
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Adventure, Humour
Characters: Fourth Doctor, Harry Sullivan, Sarah Jane Smith
Summary: The silent lighthouse has many voices, the sun is setting, and the tables - as they were bound to do at some point - are turning.
Part One: Circinus
Part Two: Caelum
Part Three: Eridanus
Part Four: Setus
THE DEEPSKY ATLAS
CHAPTER FIVE
It was hypnotic, really, the sand swirling so far above the ground, flowing in long, rippling waves until it split into turbulent eddies near the lighthouse wall. Harry leaned as near to the window as he dared - it was certainly shaking enough under the onslaught of sand and wind to make him a bit wary - and watched the shadows outside resolve themselves into impossible shapes, then fade away again.
Hypnotic.
He recalled having heard about motorists dozing off while driving on winter roads, lulled by the patterns formed by blowing snow on the asphalt. It was easy, in a place like this, to understand why.
A hand clapped down on his shoulder; Harry jumped and spun round, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process. Caelum stood behind him, implacable, his distractingly piercing gaze fastened quite firmly on Harry.
Suddenly a bit on the nervous side, Harry glanced over the warrior's shoulder, hoping to spot Sarah or the Doctor, but realized that, while he'd been staring out the window, they must have continued their explorations without him. Utterly typical. He resolved to disappear without warning the next time they were approached from behind by a madman. A madman with a sword. He swallowed and forced a sickly grin.
"I did not startle you, I hope?" Caelum's voice was harsh, each syllable emphasized as though he were having to force out the niceties.
Harry could still feel his heart pounding. "Of course not," he said, and laughed unconvincingly. "Of course not, old chap."
"I must-" Caelum paused, straightened, and then his words were rushing out at a rate that, coupled with his gravelly voice, made them nearly impossible to understand. "I must apologize for my conduct towards your companion."
Harry felt a surge of anger that he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to control. Madman or not, some things were inexcusable. "Well, you-you pointed a bally sword at her! It's Sarah you should be apologizing to, not me!"
Caelum bowed. "If that is your wish," he said, and turned away, down the dimly lit corridor.
"Er, wait!" Harry called. Obediently, Caelum turned. "Look," Harry said, "not that I'm not grateful, but why are you treating me like this?"
Either Caelum was becoming more emotive, or Harry was getting used to the almost-expressions that flitted across his face - the swordsman looked downright baffled. "I have already informed you. I attacked you dishonourably when you were attempting to assist your companion, so my sword is yours by right."
"Ah," Harry said. He was quickly coming to the conclusion that conversations with Caelum had a habit of acquiring a ring of epic finality that made them nearly impossible to continue, but he struggled valiantly on. "And where your sword goes, you follow, I suppose?"
"It is so," Caelum said, and bowed his head. "I will now apologise to your companion."
"Sarah," Harry said, because the least the chap could do after threatening her life was to use her name now and again. "Her name is Sarah Jane."
"As you say," Caelum said, and started walking again.
Harry glanced back at the window, found himself lulled again by the whorls of rising sand, and only jolted back to awareness when a particularly powerful gust of wind rattled the window. "Lovely weather we've been having," he muttered to the wall, and turned to follow Caelum down the corridor.
Fortunately, the man's pace was as measured and drawn-out as his speech, so it was the work of moments to catch up with him. "Look," said Harry, "I've still got a few questions for you-"
Caelum froze, and Harry nearly ran right into him. "What-"
Harry glanced up at the warrior's face, and it was abruptly quite plain that something was terribly wrong. After the half-frowns and minute flickers of expression, the look on Caelum's face was a firm statement in bright print, signed and witnessed, attesting to the fact that things were a bit on the iffy side.
He grabbed Harry by the arm - his grip was powerful enough that Harry found himself cataloguing the latest set of bruises - and tugged him into an empty room to their left. Immediately, Harry felt a surge of panic; after all, the kitchen had been large enough, but this small space was far too reminiscent of the room that had come so near to caving in around them only hours earlier.
Twisting, Harry tried to remember back to his brief training with UNIT, back to how exactly he was supposed to go about breaking such a strong grip. He expected the manuals didn't have much to say about long-lived warriors with particularly firm handshakes. In the meantime, the hair at the top of his head felt like it was prickling, like it was expecting the first chunk of ceiling to fall, and he was beginning to feel distinctly claustrophobic.
Caelum leaned in close, and again his sword seemed to have jumped into his hand without any conscious effort on his part. "Stop struggling," he hissed, and Harry stopped, because it was difficult to argue with a statement like that, all things considered. Besides, the longer he stood in the room without finding the ceiling rather unceremoniously deposited on his head, the better he felt.
"What is it?" Harry said, and Caelum shushed him in a way that was bizarrely reminiscent of Harry's old nan. He lowered his voice and tried again. "What did you hear?"
"You," Caelum said in a whisper that was nonetheless perfectly clear to Harry's ears, "are evidently not a warrior."
And then Harry heard it, heard the impossible rumble of voices - many voices! - echoing in the corridors. "Now, just a minute!" he whispered. "You said you were the only one here."
Caelum's eyes were haunted. "I am. This is impossible."
"Well," Harry murmured, more to himself than to Caelum, "at least it's familiar ground, then, eh?"
And then Caelum gave up on his more subtle methods of hushing Harry in favour of clapping a hand over his mouth. "Do you ever stop prattling?" he whispered, and before Harry could reply the voices suddenly increased in volume, accompanied by the shuffling of feet and the rustling of long robes.
They lurked in the doorway as the procession - a whole procession, dozens of people in this abandoned place! - passed through the corridor, murmuring softly amongst themselves in words Harry couldn't quite catch over the noise of the sandstorm at the windows, and over the sound of his own rapid breathing.
The figures rounded a corner up ahead, and it wasn't until they had passed mostly from earshot that Caelum released Harry. "Let us follow," Caelum said, and Harry, rather in spite of a sudden shakiness around the knees, found himself doing just that.
They followed the procession at quite a distance - there were several moments where Harry was quite convinced they'd lost the group, but Caelum proved himself to be a sort of stoic bloodhound, keeping them just out of sight of the intruders without losing their tail. In spite of himself, Harry was quite impressed; the warrior would probably make a very fine detective if he could curb his more violent tendencies.
It took Harry some time to realise that they'd been heading downwards - the floors slanted in ways that probably reflected some bizarre futuristic architecture, and there were surprisingly few flights of stairs - but soon they were facing a set of windows that seemed to be approximately at ground level.
They'd nearly caught up the strange procession, and Harry didn't need Caelum's prompting to remain as silent as possible. "This is the lowest floor," Caelum whispered. "There is no lower. Where are they going?"
Harry resisted the urge to shush him - he'd heard of finding friendship in times of danger, but he doubted Caelum would have a particularly good sense of humour over the whole thing. In silence, they watched the procession separate into individual members, men and women and-and some sort of unidentifiable creature that appeared to be half-man and half-vegetable, all wearing robes of white and beige.
From his limited but growing experience, Harry was learning to be wary of people who murmured and dressed in long robes.
And then one of them touched a stone on the wall, and there was an alarming creak. Harry automatically registered the position of the stone - after all, secret passages were becoming something of a matter of course; a little knobby thing where you least expect, and hey-presto, there you were in a mysterious laboratory. He turned to convey this to Caelum, and so nearly missed what happened next.
The floor gave way under the procession.
As Harry started forward, a series of solid thumps announced the mysterious figures' inelegant arrival in the basement. The stone floor rolled solidly back into place.
"We must follow," Caelum said, pushing past him.
Harry frowned and tried to estimate how far the robed procession must have fallen. "Shouldn't we see if there's another way? Discretion being the better part of valour and all. For all we know, this could have been some sort of suicide pact!"
Caelum's eyes were large, and he was staring at Harry in some surprise. Harry was beginning to wish he'd go back to the stoic lack of expression - it was much less alarming. "Then you did not hear?"
"Didn't hear what?"
Caelum had his sword in one hand, and was probing at the wall with the other. Harry moved to stand beside him, deciding that, if he was going to risk his life, it may as well be with the chap with the sword. "The man who led them. He spoke of two prisoners."
"Sarah and the Doctor," Harry breathed.
Caelum's eyes met his. "There was also talk of a sacrifice. We must follow and try to prevent this."
Before Harry could respond, the floor promptly disappeared under his feet, and he was falling, falling, and instead of the room caving in on him he had the confused impression that he was caving in on the room-
He landed, on his back but not uncomfortably, on a large mattress of some sort, and was nearly bounced to his feet when Caelum landed beside him, in a perfect crouch. Trying to regain equilibrium, Harry stumbled after his companion - Caelum was already scanning the area, sword at the ready, but he relaxed almost immediately.
"They have passed into the chamber beyond," Caelum said.
"Well, good," Harry said, and started forward with the half-formed idea of rescuing Sarah and the Doctor through careful discussion and wit - or, failing that, with a few well-placed thumps from Caelum.
The warrior grabbed him by the shoulder. "Don't be foolish," he said. "We will not be able to assist your friends by getting killed. The men carry daggers - the shape beneath the robes is unmistakeable."
"Listen," said Harry, "I can't just leave Sarah and the Doctor to be murdered-"
"That is not what we will do," said Caelum. "We will listen, and then we will consider, and then we will act."
This seemed reasonable enough, but Harry wasn't entirely against abandoning his initial plan if the need arose. "All right," he said, and together they proceeded towards a faint glow, and the sound of voices grew.
And then one voice broke out above the others, with such clarity that Harry stumbled to a halt, certain they'd been discovered. Caelum pulled him into a dark corner, and he realised that one of the robed fellows was giving some sort of speech.
"We have not been discovered," Caelum whispered.
But Harry was rather more interested in what the robed figure was announcing to his assembly. "The sacrifice," the man boomed, "shall be carried out by tomorrow dawn. Already the victims are here with us - two strangers to serve the great Dorado's cause. We are truly blessed to have them."
Caelum slipped out from the corner, beckoning for Harry to follow, and together they tiptoed unseen behind the backs of the nearest figures, ducking into a convenient alcove.
"Their deaths will be slow, of course," the man continued, and the crowd seemed rather delighted at this prospect. "Pain is pleasure."
Harry, who rather disagreed with that particular point of view, was peering over the shoulders of the nearest vegetable-creature, but there was no sign of Sarah or the Doctor - just a large, round stage with a sort of podium in front, one that was probably amplifying the leader's voice to echo around such a massive antechamber. In fact, there was no sign of any sort of prisoners, but there was such a restless anticipation in the air-
Caelum stiffened. "Where are they?" he breathed, in a voice so low that Harry scarcely heard it at all.
"Why," the man at the podium said, "they are in this very room."
The figure before them turned, suddenly, a rictus of a grin spreading across his faintly cabbage-shaped head. The woman next to him turned, and the man beside her, and suddenly the whole assembly was staring right at them.
"The sacrifice of two," the leader said, with a dramatic sweep of his arms. "And they've come straight into our arms."
Caelum raised his sword menacingly, at which point the nearest dozen robed figures pulled out wickedly curved daggers.
Harry swallowed. "Er," he said, and his voice was small in the sudden stillness. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to settle this over a cuppa?"
