Chapter 9 - Far from the Treetops...

There were no more embarrassing falls, though Toe stumbled twelve times, muttering each time how she wished girls' wings worked too. Back-tracking to the fork, they took the right-hand route instead, which lead them on a downward tilt at a roughly twenty-five degree angle. After forty-eight metres, the passage showed increasing signs of artificial enhancement, including increased lighting (artificial, only a quarter of which worked) and by eighty metres, the tunnel was more artificial than natural.

Sherlock caught something on the air and held up his hand for everyone to stop and be silent. There it was, a soft humming, but not the electric hum of machines, this was more natural and changed note (A, B, A, A, C, E, A, though it was out of tune. A song, a living creature, no more than sixty metres away). He continued forward, only pausing to glare at Toe when she tried to speak. Sherlock moved forward as silently as he could, avoiding loose stones, though it seemed completely negated by the Doctor's complete and utter lack of concern. Time Lord he may be, subtle he was not.

The end of the tunnel came into sight sooner than expected (the walls were not limestone then, but very similar), opening up to a large cavern (twenty metres high at its peak, roughly thirty-five by twenty-seven metres wide). The light in cavern was natural (the entrances were well hidden, but he could see seventeen possible entry points) with a large (relatively) underground lake covering three fifths of the room on the left of them, helping to reflect and light the room. Two metres and eighty centimetres from the shoreline sat what Sherlock could only describe as a nest of old (half mouldy from the looks of it) clothes, feathers, fur and grass (apparently anything soft that come to hand). In the centre was the source of the humming; around it, Sherlock could just about make out the stirring that was most likely the babies (he could only make out two… no, three. Others possibly dead).

He supposed the children would call it Queen Gonian, though he gave more credit to the Doctor's description and understood why he compared them to Homo erectus and Homo sapiens. The vague anatomical structure was the same as the Toceps, but with distinct differences (smaller cranial capacity, by 120 cm3, cheekbones less prominent and os frontis almost non-existent in the skull), though the most obvious, and arguably important, difference was size. When standing, Sherlock estimated it would come to twice the height of an average Tocep and, on an educated guess, he believed that the bones and muscles would be denser if they had not wasted away.

Sherlock remained in the shadows of the tunnel, peering out at the scene. This was interesting, not just comparing two different living evolutionary routes almost side by side, but working out how they were going to get rid of the creature to get to the Tocep babies (which he presumed was the Doctor's intention).

"Queen Gonian," Toe breathed from where she was crouched on the floor, making Sherlock roll his eyes. "What is she humming to?"

"The offspring." Toe looked up confused at Sherlock's blunt reply. "The babies of kidnapped Toceps like your mother."

The girl let out an entirely unnecessary gasp and grasped the Doctor's hand. "We have to rescue them!"

"Don't worry, we will," he reassured her. "I promise you, just stay here."

He started to walk past Sherlock, who hissed, "Where are you going?"

The Doctor looked surprised, as if it should be obvious. "I'm going to talk to her."

"Do you really think she's going to just hand them back?" This was ridiculous, even by the Time Lord's standards.

"I have to give her a chance. I always give them a chance."

"Does it ever work?"

"Sometimes… Occasionally… Once, maybe twice."

"Well, I see the error of my ways now," Sherlock bit out sarcastically. "If it's worked once or twice then by all means ruin our element of surprise. Who knows, you may take that total up to two or three times."

"I have to give them that option. When you travel with me, you play by my rules." He gave Sherlock a meaningful look before slowly strolling towards the Gonian.

It was utterly ridiculous; the man was single-handedly increasing their chance of failure by fifty-six per cent (although he did assume in his calculation that the Doctor would not give away Sherlock's own position: the Time Lord was not quite that foolish). If this was how he usually conducted business then it was a small wonder that he was still alive. Ah, but Sherlock had no idea how many times the man had regenerated from near death, Sherlock was guessing it happened a lot. And yet he still persisted in this manner. What a blindingly optimistic view of the universe the man had. Was it a trait shared by all Time Lords? He doubted they'd survive long as a species if that was the case. Or perhaps that was why they'd evolved to regenerate, to compensate for their deadly naivety. No. He doubted any species universally shared a characteristic that was so objective. No species was that uniform.

He watched the Doctor move further into the cave. The man did have a way with people/species, Sherlock would admit that much, but that didn't mean that kidnappers (master-mind criminals, there was no way this creature could make it all the way up into the treetops to abduct women unnoticed. He doubted it had the intelligence to even mastermind the whole campaign, oh, now that was interesting. Who did then?) would release their victims because he had a friendly little chat with them. Judging from the bones shattered around (from what he could see of the size and shape, they belonged to at least some of the abductees. He didn't know enough about Tocep physiology to say how many of the late women lay scattered around), it literally ate intruders for dinner. He would have to put his own plan into action.

The Doctor managed to walk three metres and seventy two centimetres before the creature noticed him. Its head snapped up and it crouched low while it watched the man cautiously. The Time Lord held up both hands to show he was unarmed (he doubted the creature would know the number of places and ways he could be concealing a weapon) and took another two steps forward. The creature shuffled forward, its hands on the edge of the nest so that the arms barred the infants from easy reach.

The Doctor stopped and squatted, resting on the balls of his feet. "Hello," he said softly. The creature only watched him. "I'm the Doctor and you must be Queen Gonian." Still the so-called queen did nothing, but her body went taut. Sherlock was still growing accustomed to the different physiology of creatures on this planet, but everything in the creature's body language told him that this was not going to go the Doctor's way. "You've got some babies there."

The tension shot up. "My daughters," the creature finally spoke. The voice was deep, a sound he would expect from a heavy-set man. A dryness and gravelly quality was present that could be ascribed to disuse. He expected she hadn't spoken for years at a time.

"They're not, are they? You took them from their mothers."

"They took my daughters," the creature growled out. "We lost and they took my girls and smashed in their heads."

The pity was clear on the Doctor's face, though Sherlock didn't know why he bothered. It was a useless emotion that did little to help the situation. Her loss did not excuse her actions, and worse things happened in wars. "I'm sorry," but his voice was surprisingly strong, "but they are long dead. Taking daughters of women who had nothing to do with that isn't going to bring your children back." Touche, Time Lord, perhaps not as foolish as Sherlock had presumed.

"They killed my blood."

"That doesn't make what you're doing right."

This was useless. She clearly wouldn't be reasoned with, why the Doctor was even bothering was beyond him. The creature stalked forward, carefully stepping over the sniffling babies to stand protectively over them. Sherlock smirked: bad move. The previous position was safer. He bent down next to Toe, his voice low when he spoke to avoid drawing attention to themselves. "The Doctor's plan won't work."

Toe glanced nervously at the Time Lord, who had risen to his feet. She looked worried, although there was no need; he was sure the man could look after himself. "What do we do?"

'Queen Gonian' took another step towards the Doctor, who took another step back to keep the two metres distance between them (Sherlock could now clearly see that the creatures body stretched to two metres and sixteen, maybe twenty centimetres).

"She's distracted, go and take the babies away. One at a time will do."

Toe's eyes flew wide, voice rising by two decibels, but thankfully not loud enough for them to be detected. "Me? Why me?"

"You're small, easy to slip under the creature's notice and female. She wants daughters so I doubt she'll hurt you."

"You doubt?"

"Educated guess based on logic and a wealth of experience. She wants daughters, you're a girl therefore she won't hurt you." (Of course, Toe may be too old and regarded, like the mothers, as more of a tasty snack, but there was no need to tell the girl that) "If you're careful, she won't notice. You can sneak in and take the babies back while the Doctor distracts her."

The girl looked back at the Time Lord and the Gonian. The beast had moved further away from her nest as she stalked the Doctor. It was a good opportunity to slip in unnoticed, if only the girl would stop dawdling. She steeled herself (several deep breaths, straightening her posture and gripping her dress) before giving him a curt nod and shuffling off. She skirted left, towards the lake and away from the Gonian, who was fully distracted by the Time Lord wittering on about not letting her get away with this or some other melodramatic claptrap (good, it kept her attention focused on him). Sherlock also edged forward, keeping himself in and close to the shadows, moving no more than a metre at a time. He didn't want to ruin this by becoming the object of focus before the appropriate time. The creature would notice sooner or later, unless the Doctor killed it first, which he severely doubted. No, it would turn round and notice the missing babies, or the lack of mewling, it was just a question of how long (also in part down to how well Toe played her part). Worst case scenario: he would have to use a new plan.

One up from that was take a leaf out of the Doctor's book when he distracted the 'chimera'.

Toe reached the nest and was taking a hold of the first babe (with more care than required). She quickly backtracked, offspring in her arms and eyes hooked on the queen (silly, she should look where she was going). Sherlock saw it before it happened (slight dip in the ground), but the child didn't (no point calling out a warning, success probability would drop by twenty-five per cent). As she mis-stepped, she stumbled, just about regaining her balance, but the motion was enough to cause the baby in her arms to let out a cry. 'Queen Gonian' and the Doctor's heads snapped round to her, rooting her to the spot. The hall froze (besides the sounds of the gurgling infants).

"Toe," the Doctor began, "back away slowly."

The girl didn't need to be told twice. Slightly trembling under the Gonian's gaze, she stepped back quickly (almost more of a stumble, betraying her panic, one of the problems with working with children). The creature turned on the spot (Toe's breath quickens, eyes widened. Her fear increasing, near full blown panic), a small growl in its throat that made the child blunder backwards even quicker. In three strides Sherlock had crossed the distance between them and plucked the baby out of her arms. He didn't wait for the creature to launch after him, he ran.

The Doctor shouted his name (alias), but he was too far down the tunnel to hear anything else he said, the sound of the Gonian crashing after him drowning it out. However it gave a clear indication of how far behind him she was (taking into account his margin of error from earlier, seven metres and closing). Perhaps he had slightly underestimated the strength left in her wasted muscles. The hole that he had nearly fallen down was 101 metres away; he could make it that far before she caught up. By thirty-five metres down the passage (half way down this tunnel), the gap had closed to five metres. Ten metres to the fork in the tunnels and the gap was down to four metres. He jumped a stalagmite, the baby in his right arm voicing a shrill objection (why would anyone want this sound in their ears day and night?). There was a thud and a crack behind him, the creature must have run into the stalagmite (stone had cracked, not the creature, though there was a change in rhythm of its sprint; it had been injured. Good, would slow it down and stop it from catching him).

By the time it burst into the fork, the gap had closed to three metres. He spun round 270o, digging his foot into the floor as he launched himself down the left path. The Gonian shot past, slamming forwards into the wall. It took twenty seconds for it to shake off the daze, realise which way Sherlock had gone, and follow. Thirty-one metres to go and a gap of ten metres. The baby in his arms continued to wail, not entirely happy with the rough journey it was taking. The creature behind him shrieked (thirty metres from the destination) and put in an extra burst of speed, closing in to seven metres. Three metre reduction every ten metres, he could work with that, though a little closer than he wanted. It was confirmed at ten metres to go when there was only four metres between them. It might jump at any moment, close the gap in one bound and hope that it didn't squash the babe in his arms (creature of that size and physique, state of health could make the jump at three metres). Though she may have forgotten to take that into account - it was a primitive being - or be overcome by rage.

Five metres to go, gap had decreased by another one point six-five metres. Only four metre left, three…two…one…

Sherlock braced himself, this time knowing what was coming. With the last step, Sherlock plunged into nothing, just as the Gonian sprung over him, down into the hole that had caught him by surprise earlier. He expected it, but for one moment (in a short fifty centimetre drop) the sensation was horribly familiar, so like dropping from St. Bart's roof, and his world spun. His hand connected with rock, his fingers locked into place and pointless memories were banished back to where they belonged. He positioned his feet so that they slammed into the wall and not his body (impact make baby cry harder and, oh goody, it was sick on his shirt).

Above them the Gonian shot over the edge. It only lasted one point seventy-seven seconds and then plunged down and across the hole with a high pitched (above a high E sharp) scream. It crashed into the opposite wall with a thick crunch (hard to tell exactly, but he estimated three broken bones and nine fractures, the sound too distorted and the light too poor to tell clearly. He could only make out the rough shape of the creature). It slid down the wall (no move to stop itself, possibly unconscious or arms and hands too injured, though survival instinct should over ride that), which would cause damage to the skin (a human's would scrape and peel away). Three point four seconds later there was a heavy thud (mmm, the hole was seventy-two metres deep then), most likely dead. If not, it would be very soon.

If Sherlock had had any doubt in his plan, he would have breathed a sigh of relief. Instead he looked down at the still crying babe. In the gloom, he could just about make out its scrunched-up face. He pulled a face of his own. He would need to off-load the child onto someone else soon. He had no idea how to handle children (he knew the theory, though he had never been able to succeed in practice on the rare occasions that babies had been shoved into his arms).

A soft blue glow crept over him, casting the baby in slightly clearer light. Knowing what he would see, he looked up at the Doctor leaning down over the edge (for less than a second the man made a peculiar expression that Sherlock couldn't understand). The alien opened his mouth (a joker, likes references, it was obvious where this was going) and Sherlock rushed in to beat him to the punch. "Don't bother," the detective drawled, "I've already thought of every single cliff-hanger pun you could possibly come out with."

(&)

Seilan just had time to duck out of the way before the cube rushed over the top of his head. He quickly pivoted in time to see it shoot across the junction and slam one of its corners into the wall. The impact caused the cube to spin as it continued flying down one of the tunnels. Any hope he had that it was just continuing on its way was dashed when it brought itself to a stuttering halt mid-air. It hovered there for a minute before shooting back. Its flight was no longer strong and straight, but it bobbed around, dipping low and swinging side to side. He could see the serious damage done to the casing; it must have battered its way out of the cell. There were no cracks, but huge dents, and one corner had completely caved in.

Seilan leapt into the air as it came close to the woman. He charged; slamming into it before it could come close to his mother. He winced, that had hurt. A lot. They never mentioned that in the stories, but it was worth it as it the object was knocked off course and into the wall. "Run!" he cried as he clung on to the cube as if his life depended on it.

The box struggled and tried to push its way back to the mothers. Beating his wings furiously, Seilan tried to push it away, back down one of the tunnels. For several seconds there was a furious pushing war, before the cube stalled. The opposing pressure disappeared and with nothing pushing against him, Seilan shot forward, tumbling through the air and down the passage. He was vaguely aware of his mother shouting his name, but he had no time to think or react before he crashed into the wall again. He wasn't sure how but, even as the air rushed out of his lungs, he still managed to hold on as the cube bounced from one wall to the next.

The box hummed, stuttering back into life, trying to assert its control over their course. Once, they almost gained a steady flight, but then the thing's power cut out again; not for long, just a second, but it was enough to start the cycle again. Seilan groaned as his head spun and his stomach rolled. He was sure he was going to be sick and his wings ached from being battered and strained with exercise. Each beat was harder and each spin disorientated him further. He flapped his wings, but he had no idea if it was actually doing him any good at all. He was so dizzy that he could be flying them back home for all he knew. He could be out in the open sky and he didn't think he'd notice. He didn't know where he was or what he doing, just that he had to keep the cube from escaping.

"SEILAN!" The shout cut across his thoughts. "SEILAN! Let go!"

Let go? He really didn't think that was a good idea. If he did, then he'd lose the cube, it would go back to mother… but it was so tempting.

"I have you covered. I can take care of this, so drop the box."

And something in the voice compelled him to listen, to do as he was told. So, he did. He released his opponent and sank down to the ground. Taking several deep breaths, he closed his eyes and tried to set his world straight again. A high-pitched whirling met his ears and a moment later there was a heavy thud. Cracking his eyes open he saw the cube lying on the ground before him, lifeless.

(&)

It had been awkward, but not difficult for the Doctor to pull Sherlock up from his hole, constantly reminding him to be careful of the baby in his arms. Really, Sherlock was neither malicious nor sadistic. He took no pleasure in causing pain to others (who had done nothing to deserve it). Up on his feet again, he tried to hand the bellowing baby back to the Doctor, but the man was already moving swiftly away. He held the baby out in front of him at arm's length. "Doctor?"

The Time Lord hummed and turned his head back without breaking step.

"Do you mind?" He waved the child a little.

The Doctor grinned. "Mind? Not one bit. You take her, you look after her."

He glowered a little at the man. "I don't know what to do with a baby."

"Oh, she's just a little scared and grumpy. I'm not surprised after the way you've been running around with her. Just hold her close and comfort her. She'll calm right down."

"I'm not a nursemaid."

"Nah, but you'll do. Go on then, you just going to let her cry out?"

Sherlock took a deep breath to stop himself from strangling his annoying alien companion. A stubborn part of him wanted to fight for the sake of fighting, but there really was little point. So, as they turned the corner to take the tunnel back to where they had left Toe and the nest, he pulled the wailing child close to his chest. He pulled from his memory palace the images he'd seen of parents calming their children (if Sherlock was going to do something, he was going to do it well). He was half surprised when the crying quietened to a mere simpering. He continued his awkward movements, hoping that the Doctor would just come and take the baby back off of him. There was something in the Time Lord's manner that suggested that this was the man's form of payback for… something. He had the same air to him that John had when he was upset over something that Sherlock had done.

His plan of action was the most likely cause, but whyever would that be? Everyone was safe, uninjured (more or less) and alive (besides 'Queen Gonian'). Perhaps that was it, the Doctor didn't want the kidnapper to die due to some moral superiority complex that he had. No, they'd killed the chimera and the Doctor had as good as admitted that his opponents rarely took the peaceful route. Didn't matter, he would deal with any problems it caused further down the line.

Back along the tunnel (obviously from the 'nest cave') he could hear cries (due to distance rather than emotion) increasing in volume (anxious, something was going wrong). It was difficult to pick it apart (too distorted by echoes), but they didn't seem to be adult (too high pitched). Toe. The Doctor was apparently thinking along the same lines as he quickly picked up speed until he was sprinting down the corridor. Sighing in the knowledge that he would undoubtedly make the baby burst into full wailing again (she'd yet to completely calm down), Sherlock tore after his companion.

Twenty metres until his destination he could make out the shouts (no words, yet) well enough to know that it wasn't Toe (pitch and tone wrong), but… Seilan? Looked like he had found his way back to them after all, now that was a pleasant surprise, it would save them having to look for him. Had he found the other victims? He didn't hear any adult voices (Options: not found them, unable to free them, they were dead, or simply trailing behind the boy. All of similar likelihood, perhaps second and third a little more probable than the others).

"Seilan!" The Doctor, once again, confirmed his conclusion. "SEILAN!" The boy continued to shout out. "SEILAN! Let go!" Sherlock was only ten metres away now. "I have you covered. I can take care of this, so drop the box."

There was a soft thud, followed by the familiar whirr of the sonic screw driver (new note: D flat, unfamiliar function to him, though the baby in his arms was making it hard to tell). Sherlock burst onto the scene to see a (metal?) box (thirty centimetre cube) drop heavily to the ground (badly damaged. Three major cracks and at least four dozen smaller abrasions. Six dents, including the largest one on the top, closest side to him that appeared to have caved in on itself. It seemed to have tried to force its way out of something. Well, that helped piece together some of the puzzle of what Seilan had been up to while they were busy). The Doctor flipped up his screwdriver, cutting off the noise and slipping it back into his pocket. The man then walked over and tapped his foot against the box (no reaction), asking Seilan if he was okay as he went. Sherlock drifted closer, absentmindedly trying to stop the baby in his arms from crying (he really must get rid of it) as he watched the Doctor bend down to examine the box (it appeared to be copper, but either it was very impure copper or a new metal).

The Time Lord started to tip the cube over when Seilan called out. "Be careful, that thing took the mothers."

Toe was immediately by his side, clutching a baby (from the markings Sherlock could see, matching Neu's third husband, it was her sister) in her right arm and another (he didn't recognise the markings on that one) on her left, holding them clumsily against her body. "Did you find them, did you find my mum?"

Seilan shot to his feet, looking more than a little queasy. "Mother! I have to find her again, I left them alone."

The Doctor gently took his wrist before he could shoot off. "It's okay. The Detective took care of one danger and you took care of the other one." Sherlock snorted softly. Though he wasn't in the cave, he was certain that the Doctor had done more 'taking care' of the box than Seilan had. What even made the Doctor so sure that there weren't more lying around? Though, with Queen Gonian gone, they didn't have anyone to kidnap for anymore. "This will only take a couple of minutes and then we can all go together."

The boy hesitated, biting his lower lip before nodding.

"Good, now, there's a prisoner in here and we need to get it out."

"It kidnapped Mum," Toe objected.

"But it didn't do it because it wanted to." There was no way the Time Lord could know that; for all he knew, that thing was the mastermind behind this whole affair (highly unlikely, less than a four per cent chance). Toe didn't look convinced either. "We just need to let it go and it will never bother anyone here again."

"It doesn't deserve it."

"Yes, it does. Have you ever done something wrong?"

"That's different."

"If you were made to do something really bad, wouldn't you want a second chance?"

Unfortunately that wasn't how justice worked. The 'chain of causation' was not broken because you were coerced, and what was fair and unfair was an even murkier topic. Always best not to look at something from an emotional point of view.

However, the Doctor's argument seemed to be carrying some weight with Toe. "I'm holding my sister," she said sulkily, "I can't help."

"Watch then. Seilan, I need you to help me open it, okay? Then the prisoner can go free."

The boy nodded; hands at the ready. The box had to have some kind of force field around it; if this alien really was a sentient gas then it should be able to escape from the cracks and minuscule gaps. The Doctor ran the screwdriver along the top edges, in its wake Sherlock could see a crack appear along the corners (a millimetre in width).

"Right, thought so, my fingers are too big. Would you do the honours, Seilan?"

Seilan did as he was asked, just about grasping the edge and pulling. His fingers slipped four times and it took him forty-eight seconds, but he finally managed to get it open by another three centimetres at which point he could slip his fingers into the crack fully and yank it open. He dropped the lid on the floor. Nothing happened. The cube didn't even appear to have anything in it. He would have taken the opportunity to smugly point out that the Doctor was wrong this time, if it were not clear from the lack of surprise on the man's face that he'd expected this.

"It's empty," Toe commented pointlessly, leaning forward to peer into the box. When the two babies got in her way she shoved the unknown one into Seilan's arms with a 'here, you're a boy', to clear her view.

"No, it's not," the Doctor replied, gesturing for them to lean back a little. "Give it some room, it's a little shy. Come on," he said in the tone of a child coaxing a frightened cat. "There's nothing to worry about. We're not going to hurt you; we just want to help you."

Still nothing appeared to be happening and the children were looking between each other, confused. Then, after seven seconds of attentive observation, Sherlock just about caught sight of it. It wasn't much, just a slight shimmering in the air (like steam or heat haze, completely transparent but with a different refractive index to normal air). Four centimetres cleared the top of the box.

"Go on," The Doctor encouraged.

And it did, rising quicker than steam does, until it disappeared into the darkness above them. The children were still looking about them in confusion, eager to catch sight of a new alien, unaware that it had gone.

"SEILAN?!" The shout drifted across the air (female, adult, clearly the boy's mother. No more than fifty metres away, from the tunnel at his two o'clock).

The child was off like a shot. "Mother!"

"Seilan? Where are you?"

The Doctor picked up the box, examining it with a small frown on his face.

"It's not from this world, is it?" Sherlock asked, ignoring the dull, predictable events in the background.

"No, it isn't. Not this time either."

"Where and when is it from?"

"I'm not sure."

A thrill of excitement ran through the detective that rivalled the children's as they ran to their mothers. Something that the Doctor didn't know. Now that was something worth investigating.

"So there is something that you don't know."

"Oh, there are millions of things I don't know. Life would be very boring if I knew everything."

"Do you know what was actually behind this?"

The Time Lord's eyes slid over to him and a proud little smile crossed his lips. "I thought you'd notice that." His eyes shifted back to the nest. "No, but it isn't here anymore, whatever it is. See in here?" He pointed to the inside and a line of dials. "These take readings and transmit them across time and space, although they are a bit cobbled together. Why bother though? Why take readings of pregnant women being kidnapped. Oh well," his demeanour shifted in a heartbeat. "I'm sure we'll find out. These things have a habit of cropping up again."

The baby in Sherlock's arms kicked and gurgled (oh yes, he'd forgotten about that. Really must get rid of it now). Sherlock looked over to where the children spoke to three woman over now (one held the baby Toe had carried, Neu, the other one was the one he'd witness being taken which meant the last one was...). He strode over, making a bee-line to Lan, and dangled the baby in front of her. "This is yours."

She looked surprised, before taking in the girl's markings and breaking out into a smile. "Thank you," she gushed. "Thank you so much. I thought I'd lost her forever… I-" she broke off and took her daughter, fawning over the child until she composed herself long enough to call her son over. Crouching down, she held out the girl. "Seilan, meet your little sister."