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Jun. 6th, 2005 06:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nitro_is_aceIt’s an idyllic scene – green rolling hills, with large spreading trees, a gentle river wending its way through the valley on its slow peaceful way to the sea somewhere far-off in the west. The sound of birdsong is in the air, combined with the slightly less on-key song of a young boy coming from somewhere near the river, hidden by the trees that grow on either bank. A faultless blue sky arcs overhead, exalting in the glory of summer.
Then it is shattered.
A deep, rumbling, squealing sound that is either an ancient horse coughing its lungs out or a poorly-oiled bulldozer attempting to push over a glass house, or perhaps a bit of both, fills the air. If there is the sound of chimes, it is hidden under the other, more abusive sounds. A few yards away from the river, the air shimmers, then resolves into…
A door. Just a door, its hinges fastened firmly in empty air, solid blue except for where a fading yellow notice is pinned, proclaiming that the police call box this door belongs to is not for the use of the general public. The noise abruptly stops once the door appears, and silence falls. Complete silence – both the birds and the boy have been shocked into muteness by the unexpected sound. The sound is broken by a faint rustling in the underbrush from the tree line closest to the door to nowhere.
Then the door flies open and two figures stumble out, accompanied by a black plume of smoke that rises lazily towards the unblemished sky. One of the figures stumbles because she cannot breathe with the black smoke choking her lungs. The other figure stumbles because he is attempting to support the first.
“Here now. You stay right here, and I’ll go… fix this.” The short man in the garishly patterned clothes offered his young companion a cheerful, if not entirely honest smile, and hurried back towards the door.
“Pro… Professor!” The young woman, clad in black slacks, a white and black striped top, and a patch and button festooned black leather jacket calls after the man hoarsely, still coughing from the smoke. The man doesn’t answer, instead hurrying to the door and slipping through, closing the door behind him. The smoke is cut off, and the door stands quiet once more, leading to nothing.
For a while, all the young woman does is continue to cough and alternately glare at the resolutely shut door. Eventually, soft rustling from the shadows under the trees catches her attention, and she scrambles to her feet. This isn’t the empty world she thought it was.
“Hullo? Is anyone there?” A silly question, of course someone was there – it was making too much noise to just be a squirrel rooting about. She reaches down slowly to her belt, and is distressed to find that she doesn’t have any nitro.
Her distress eases, somewhat, when a brown-haired boy steps boldly out into the clearing, eyeing her just as cautiously as she is eyeing him. Then he reaches some pleasant conclusion and smiles, tapping his right hand three times against his throat. A sort of polite gesture, the woman supposes. That, or he’s flipping her off in some obscure sign language.
“Long days, pleasant nights, lady sai. Are you one of the Manni?” He chirps, all brightness and enthusiasm as he stood in his dirt-smudged tunic and trousers that were rolled up to the knee.
“What are Manni?” She asks in return. “And who are you?” She studies the cheerful apparition before her. He can’t be older than eight, all elbows and knees and long limbs that he hasn’t even begun to grow into yet. Despite his coltish look, he moves with a grace that is unusual for boys that young, and she wonders at it.
“The Manni are travelers who can move between worlds, if’n it please ya.” He explains, his gaze slipping to the door behind her as he speaks. “You came through the door, you and the other one you called ‘Professor’.” She realizes then that he’s been here since she arrived, and knows that if he really didn’t want her to hear him, she probably wouldn’t have.
“And I am Cuthbert Allgood, at your service.”
“Well, I’m not a Manni. I’m Ace. Are you from around here?” It seems that her Doctor would be a while fixing the malfunctioning TARDIS, so she might as well find out where they are.
“Aye, I do, just down the hill aways in Gilead.” The boy waves his hand to indicate some place off to his right. Ace couldn’t hear any signs of civilization, but there’s no telling if this ‘Gilead’ is a shepherd’s camp or a castle, if it was the home of cavemen or spacemen.
“Was there a fire, on the other side of the door?” The boy Cuthbert asks curiously, still watching the door over Ace’s shoulder. There is something, a glimmer perhaps, in the boy’s eyes that Ace recognizes. She grins broadly.
“Not a true fire, no, just a bit of an explosion.”
“Do you say so? I wish I might have seen it.” The note of wistfulness in the boy’s voice settles it. She reaches into her pockets, searching, and beams when her hands find what she’s looking for. She pulls out two things – a small firecracker, stored in her pocket at some point or other and forgotten, and a small silver matchbox. Motioning the boy closer, she pulls one match out of the box and stows the rest away again.
“We can have our own explosion, right here. C’mon, I won’t bite, promise.” The encouragement proves unnecessary – Cuthbert is bold as brass, and trots over immediately to examine this new curiosity.
“Now first, we anchor it to the ground…” She follows word with deed, and unfolds the firework’s base so she can balance it on the grassy ground. Then, still beaming, she strikes the match against the sole of her right boot and sets the spluttering flame against the firework’s fuse.
“Come on, come back.” She tugs Cuthbert far enough away to be safe. He doesn’t have time to complain before the fuse burns down to the explosive, and the firework launches into the air. Ace and Cuthbert watch in awed silence as it rockets up, and up… then explodes in a shower of white sparkles that twirl and whistle as they fall back towards the ground. Both cheer at the brilliant explosion, firebugs united by the shimmering glow. The light fades, and they grin at each other for a moment before a dry voice calls out from behind them.
“Ace, if you are quite finished, it is time to leave.” The Doctor stands just outside the open door, watching his young friend with an expression that might be bemusement.
“Oh, but Doctor…” Her tone is wheedling, she’d like to go see this Gilead, and maybe show Cuthbert a few of her home-grown explosives. The Time Lord shakes his head, and she scowls, but rises.
“Bye, Cuthbert! She calls over her shoulder as she runs towards the door that the Doctor holds open for her. He follows her inside, and the door snicks shut, locking in a frame of empty air. Then that horrendous, abrasive sound fills the air again, the one that covers the chimes that lie underneath, and Cuthbert crouches and covers his ears with his hands to block it out. Then the sound dies, and the door is gone.
Roland and Alain will never believe it.
Then it is shattered.
A deep, rumbling, squealing sound that is either an ancient horse coughing its lungs out or a poorly-oiled bulldozer attempting to push over a glass house, or perhaps a bit of both, fills the air. If there is the sound of chimes, it is hidden under the other, more abusive sounds. A few yards away from the river, the air shimmers, then resolves into…
A door. Just a door, its hinges fastened firmly in empty air, solid blue except for where a fading yellow notice is pinned, proclaiming that the police call box this door belongs to is not for the use of the general public. The noise abruptly stops once the door appears, and silence falls. Complete silence – both the birds and the boy have been shocked into muteness by the unexpected sound. The sound is broken by a faint rustling in the underbrush from the tree line closest to the door to nowhere.
Then the door flies open and two figures stumble out, accompanied by a black plume of smoke that rises lazily towards the unblemished sky. One of the figures stumbles because she cannot breathe with the black smoke choking her lungs. The other figure stumbles because he is attempting to support the first.
“Here now. You stay right here, and I’ll go… fix this.” The short man in the garishly patterned clothes offered his young companion a cheerful, if not entirely honest smile, and hurried back towards the door.
“Pro… Professor!” The young woman, clad in black slacks, a white and black striped top, and a patch and button festooned black leather jacket calls after the man hoarsely, still coughing from the smoke. The man doesn’t answer, instead hurrying to the door and slipping through, closing the door behind him. The smoke is cut off, and the door stands quiet once more, leading to nothing.
For a while, all the young woman does is continue to cough and alternately glare at the resolutely shut door. Eventually, soft rustling from the shadows under the trees catches her attention, and she scrambles to her feet. This isn’t the empty world she thought it was.
“Hullo? Is anyone there?” A silly question, of course someone was there – it was making too much noise to just be a squirrel rooting about. She reaches down slowly to her belt, and is distressed to find that she doesn’t have any nitro.
Her distress eases, somewhat, when a brown-haired boy steps boldly out into the clearing, eyeing her just as cautiously as she is eyeing him. Then he reaches some pleasant conclusion and smiles, tapping his right hand three times against his throat. A sort of polite gesture, the woman supposes. That, or he’s flipping her off in some obscure sign language.
“Long days, pleasant nights, lady sai. Are you one of the Manni?” He chirps, all brightness and enthusiasm as he stood in his dirt-smudged tunic and trousers that were rolled up to the knee.
“What are Manni?” She asks in return. “And who are you?” She studies the cheerful apparition before her. He can’t be older than eight, all elbows and knees and long limbs that he hasn’t even begun to grow into yet. Despite his coltish look, he moves with a grace that is unusual for boys that young, and she wonders at it.
“The Manni are travelers who can move between worlds, if’n it please ya.” He explains, his gaze slipping to the door behind her as he speaks. “You came through the door, you and the other one you called ‘Professor’.” She realizes then that he’s been here since she arrived, and knows that if he really didn’t want her to hear him, she probably wouldn’t have.
“And I am Cuthbert Allgood, at your service.”
“Well, I’m not a Manni. I’m Ace. Are you from around here?” It seems that her Doctor would be a while fixing the malfunctioning TARDIS, so she might as well find out where they are.
“Aye, I do, just down the hill aways in Gilead.” The boy waves his hand to indicate some place off to his right. Ace couldn’t hear any signs of civilization, but there’s no telling if this ‘Gilead’ is a shepherd’s camp or a castle, if it was the home of cavemen or spacemen.
“Was there a fire, on the other side of the door?” The boy Cuthbert asks curiously, still watching the door over Ace’s shoulder. There is something, a glimmer perhaps, in the boy’s eyes that Ace recognizes. She grins broadly.
“Not a true fire, no, just a bit of an explosion.”
“Do you say so? I wish I might have seen it.” The note of wistfulness in the boy’s voice settles it. She reaches into her pockets, searching, and beams when her hands find what she’s looking for. She pulls out two things – a small firecracker, stored in her pocket at some point or other and forgotten, and a small silver matchbox. Motioning the boy closer, she pulls one match out of the box and stows the rest away again.
“We can have our own explosion, right here. C’mon, I won’t bite, promise.” The encouragement proves unnecessary – Cuthbert is bold as brass, and trots over immediately to examine this new curiosity.
“Now first, we anchor it to the ground…” She follows word with deed, and unfolds the firework’s base so she can balance it on the grassy ground. Then, still beaming, she strikes the match against the sole of her right boot and sets the spluttering flame against the firework’s fuse.
“Come on, come back.” She tugs Cuthbert far enough away to be safe. He doesn’t have time to complain before the fuse burns down to the explosive, and the firework launches into the air. Ace and Cuthbert watch in awed silence as it rockets up, and up… then explodes in a shower of white sparkles that twirl and whistle as they fall back towards the ground. Both cheer at the brilliant explosion, firebugs united by the shimmering glow. The light fades, and they grin at each other for a moment before a dry voice calls out from behind them.
“Ace, if you are quite finished, it is time to leave.” The Doctor stands just outside the open door, watching his young friend with an expression that might be bemusement.
“Oh, but Doctor…” Her tone is wheedling, she’d like to go see this Gilead, and maybe show Cuthbert a few of her home-grown explosives. The Time Lord shakes his head, and she scowls, but rises.
“Bye, Cuthbert! She calls over her shoulder as she runs towards the door that the Doctor holds open for her. He follows her inside, and the door snicks shut, locking in a frame of empty air. Then that horrendous, abrasive sound fills the air again, the one that covers the chimes that lie underneath, and Cuthbert crouches and covers his ears with his hands to block it out. Then the sound dies, and the door is gone.
Roland and Alain will never believe it.
