Enter the Hawk (Part 1/5)

[pj...@kean.ucs.mun.ca]

Hallo, everyone. I am posting this story on behalf of the writer,
Jason Cantwell, who is unable to do so himself. I broke it into five bite-
sized parts (hopefully at reasonably appropriate places!) for a better user
-friendly "net profile."
A word about the context of the story... It features the tall, dark
Eighth Doctor, a Doctor created by an Ontario Doctor Who fan, James Bow,
introduced in his fan fiction 'zine series `TRENCHCOAT' (so named for the
characteristic apparel of the Eighth Doctor). Companion to the Doctor in
this story (and in the 15+ stories so far in TRENCHCOATs I, II, III) is a
young eighteenth century french girl, Fayette, whom the Doctor has adopted
as his daughter due to circumstances best described (that is, read)
elsewhere.
This story is as yet a prospective story for TRENCHCOAT V
(TRENCHCOAT IV is to come out this spring), and Jason would like to give it
some public exposure now...

If you would like to comment on ENTER THE HAWK, please feel free to
respond to this account, and I will pass on such correspondance to Jason, and
vice versa. (BTW, I'm Phil McCausland, or `pjam' as in pj...@kean.ucs.mun.ca)

If you would like to find out more about the Eighth Doctor in the
TRENCHCOAT series by James Bow and other authors (set as BBC Serial
production of the 29th, 30th, 31st season, etc. of Doctor Who! I highly
recommend checking them out), then by all means contact James Bow at:
je...@watserv1.uwaterloo.ca
and he will gladly furnish you with some detail on how to find your own
TRENCHCOATs....

Again, if you want to talk with Jason about this story, them please
contact him through my address. Thanks, and ....enjoy!
-pjam

----------------------------------------------------

"ENTER THE HAWK!!!"
by Jason Cantwell
Part 1/5

THE TARDIS SKIMMED ALONG THE Time stream towards its destination:
Earth of the Past.

The Doctor busied himself at the controls, ensuring that they
were not sidetracked from their journey. Time and again the Time
machine had been mysteriously diverted, sending the Doctor and his
companions to an era and/or quadrant not at all like their intended
course. This time though, the Gallifreyan swore, nothing will keep
us from some much needed rest and relaxation. He sighed. Especially
after the rough couple of weeks we've been having of late...

"Good morning, papa," said Fayette as she entered the spacious
control room, her dark hair still tangled from sleep. She scuffed
up to her adopted father and tiredly kissed him on the cheek.

"Good morning, ma fille," he said with a smile, returning her
kiss. "Hurry and get dressed. We're nearly there." Smiling
sleepily, Fayette turned and left the control room, her pink
slippers shuffling on the featureless white floor. The Doctor
listened as her echoing footsteps faded, then returned his full
attention to the console before him.

A red light flashed atop one of the consoles, catching the
Doctor's eye. Calmly flipping toggles and pressing a seemingly-
random series of buttons, the Doctor nodded in satisfaction. The
red light stayed lit for a few seconds, then winked out.

"Good," he said to himself. "We should be landing any moment
now." The Time Lord allowed himself a momentary rest, closing his
eyes lightly as he slipped into an ancient Gallifreyan meditative
trance.

The passage of Time was lost to him, as the Doctor's trance
was interrupted by the opening of the control room doors. They
admitted Fayette, now dressed in her 17th Century white dress,
belted with a purple sash. Turning to face his adopted daughter, he
noted that she carried with her a small satchel, containing a light
lunch and a fresh change of clothes, no doubt. Smart girl, he
thought with a smile. I'm lucky she's on my side... "We should be
landing any minute now," he repeated for her benefit.

"Have I ever told you about my old friend Adolf, ma fille?"
The Doctor's smile turned playfully wicked as he recalled the many
adventures he and Adolf had had all those years ago. But of course,
that was before his country's most untimely involvement in the
planet's Second World War... Oh well, they'd be visiting the
Hitlers' summer home long before he even joins the military...

The TARDIS lurched sharply to one side, righting itself after
an agonizingly elongated lapse of time. The Doctor's legs trembled
as he dragged himself up off of the deck. Fayette brushed her
still-tangled hair out of her eyes from her position in the far
corner of the control room, where her uncontrollable skid had taken
her. "What has happened, papa? Have we landed on Earth?!"

"No," he said solemnly. "We haven't."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

THE TWIN RED GIANTS SHONE brightly in the skies of Moonkeep. It was
afternoon, and the general populace was anxiously awaiting the
Royal Imperial Games of the evening...

The monk glanced longingly out the window of his musty room,
silently damning his historical chroniclization duties. He had
originally accepted this duty with great pride: he would be the one
to write the official account of Moonkeep history! The honour! The
prestige!! The money!!!

But, over the course of too many days of fairer weather than
today's, and too few days of basking in its splendour, he had grown
to detest his "holy duty" with a holy passion.

It's just so boring, he thought tiredly. Nothing ever happens
around here... Sighing, the dark-robed monk resigned himself to his
fate as dictated by the Gods. Dipping his holy dragon-scale pen
into his holy inkwell, he set about inserting his holy notes into
the all-too-holy text before him...

...The rumours and hearsay had spread across the countryside
like wildfire, the many talebearers and scandalmongers giving them
a more incredible twist with each telling:

"Will the Prince allow Hawk to compete, after what
happened last time?"

"What will happen if Hawk wins again?!"

"Will the Prince set him free, as he had promised?"

"Will Hawk kill the Prince if he isn't set free?"

But perhaps these are far too many questions with far too few
answers. The aforementioned rumours and hearsay are thus:

The Royal Imperial Games of the previous week had been
fought in the manner of which they had always been,
brutally and mercilessly. The main event was a tournament
of twenty or more of the strongest, most ruthless slaves the
Prince had ever the gall to bring before his father, Emperor
Barkarris. As his only son, Prince Evyll had been given the
most exalted position of Governing SlaveMaster of the Imperium.
And as SlaveMaster, Prince Evyll had arrogantly made a personal
pledge to every slave that, if they survived their first thousand
tournament matches, he would publically set them free. For the
past twelve years, no slave survived past eight. Then Hawk came.

Hawk was a prisoner from a recently conquered world in an
uncharted starsystem. Eight of the Prince's strongest men had
been needed to restrain him when he had first brought to
Moonkeep. He was then "drafted" into the Royal Games. The
competition had been tough, but Hawk had managed to survive
longer than any other slave before or since. And he had
survived for one reason: he wanted revenge on Prince Evyll.
And if he had to go through all his Guards to get to him,
then so be it.

This will be Hawk's thousandth tournament. One way or the
other, Hawk will be free. And Prince Evyll will finally
be dead.

It was for this reason the Prince had forbidden Hawk his final
tournament. He knew that, given the slightest opportunity, the
mentally unstable gladiator would come looking for him, for sure.
What Evyll didn't seem to realize, however, was that Hawk probably
wouldn't agree to the prince's having forfeited his final match on
the grounds of his feelings about Hawk's... most disagreeable
personality flaws...

Feeling himself nearing the home stretch, the monk smiled
eagerly, glancing every few seconds out at the yet-fading daylight.
The first sun was already crescented by the distant horizon, but
the second sun, the larger and further of the pair, hung lazily in
the evening sky. Mayhap I will yet cast mine tired eyes upon thy
unforsaken beauty, he thought hungrily, the image of a large
helping of his wife's famous sweet dragon-claw pie driving him
onward.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

FAR REMOVED FROM SUCH MUNDANE trivialities as the worries of
princes and the plotting of psychopaths, high above the dark side
of Moonkeep, a dark patch of ebony destruction, darker than the
space between the stars, convalesces into a great cosmic anomaly.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

THE DOCTOR FRANTICALLY PRESSED buttons and flipped toggles, trying
every control combination that he knew of in a futile attempt to
discover just where they had stopped along the Time Stream. None of
the controls or monitors seemed to be working: they had all
mysteriously gone dead. For all intents and purposes, they could be
sitting dead in the middle of the non-existance of netherspace.

Even Fayette was applying her limited knowledge of the TARDIS'
controls, not understanding many of the readouts displayed in front
of her. She flipped a final toggle, activating a small monitor.

The control room was bathed in the eerie blue light emanating
from it. The Doctor moved closer immediately, happy that at least
one of the viewers was working. His expression changed from grim to
sombre almost instantaneously. Fayette's expression mirrored it.
"Papa, what does that mean?"

"It means... there's a pocket of Black Light in or near the
Archeiches system. We must go there at once."

Fayette remembered her adopted father telling her about one
time he had been there before, but recalled his being very vague
about the details. The Doctor, noting her curious expression,
smiled as he recounted the adventure. "It had been to investigate
latent Black Light filaments that I had detected surrounding the
planet Gargabour, and also the possibility of an alien influence on
the planet Vanestra," he began. "That would've explained the
existence of the numerous clouds in the system. Ace and I had spent
several days there, doing covert surveillance of the seemingly
backward culture of Vanestra, while studying the Black Light clouds
in more detail, but our findings turned up nothing conclusive." The
Doctor sighed at the memory, still puzzling over the cosmic riddle
of the Black Light.

"But papa, I thought you and Ace had rendered all the Black
Light inert before you left all those years ago. How did you miss
this cloud?"

Indeed how? A bleak expression crossed the Time Lord's face.
Nine years ago, they had touched down on the small planet of
Vanestra, marvelling at its strangely benevolent populace. He
remembered mumbling something about the Nitro-9 in Ace's satchel
possibly having some limited effect on the Black Light, but he
couldn't recall his motivation for saying it. The Black Light had
been far too diffused, too randomized to do anything about at the
time... He sighed again. "I don't know. But we did, so we must
divert there immediately."

Reaching for an access panel on the underside of the central
column, the Doctor removed the protective plate and tinkered with
the controls inside. After a few moments, all of the monitors
flashed once, then came back on slowly, displaying various starmaps
and computer subsystems, as per their intended function. The Time
Lord replaced the panel and stood, checking that the monitors would
not blink out again before he or Fayette could discover just where
the smeg they were. Going to the other side of the six-sided
console, the Doctor motioned Fayette to the panel directly across
from his own. "Quickly, ma fille! Do you remember how to use the
Planetary Directory?"

"Err... oui, papa..." she said uncertainly as she tried to
remember the correct seguence of switches and buttons. Pressing the
three most inviting ones, she was pleasantly surprised to see the
Planetary Directory prompt appear. "I have it. What do I do now?"

"Type in 'ACCESS=Archeiches', and tell me what appears on the
screen." She did so, calling up the most recent information on the
odd starsystem. Her dark eyes shone with the light from the pinkish
screen.

ACCESS=Archeiches <<searching...>>
@
@@

SYSTEM=Archeiches
PRIMARY SUNS=02
PLANETARY BODIES=12
INHABITED WORLDS=03
TERRAFORMED WORLDS=None
ANOMALOUS STAR CLUSTERS=None
ANOMALOUS ASTRAL BODIES=06 moons; 11 unidentified planetoids; 01
asteroid belt, high-nickel content; 03 unidentified interspatial
gaseous clouds

press CONTINUE for detailed listing of planetary bodies

Her curiosity sufficiently aroused, Fayette pressed the
CONTINUE button and waited. A moment later, the following appeared:

STAR CLASSIFICATION=red giant<twin>
STAR IDENTIFICATION=unknown
PLANETARY LISTING=planet 01 -- Argorrys
-- class-F <UNINHABITABLE; GRAVITY
000-G OF PLANETARY NORM; ATMOSPHERE: NON-EXISTANT>
-- projected terraforming.... NONE
-- END FILE

planet 02 -- Moonkeep
-- class-M <INHABITED; GRAVITY 1-G OF
PLANETARY NORM; ATMOSPHERE: 68% TRILETHADINE, 21% OXYGEN, 08%
HELIUM, 03% UNKNOWN NATURAL GAS>
-- technology LEVEL 3 <air & land
vehicular transportation, energy-dispersal weapons, neo-embryonic
cloning, matter replication/teleportation>
-- *unconfirmed interstellar flight
capabilities*
-- END FILE

planet 03 -- unidentified
-- class-J <UNINHABITED; GRAVITY
200-G OF PLANETARY NORM; ATMOSPHERE: 89% METHANE-NITROGEN MIX, 04%
HYDROGEN, 03% LITHIUM-POLYMETHATE, 02% NELIUM COMPOUND, 01% KRYPTON
VAPOUR, 01% UNKNOWN NATURAL GAS>
-- projected terraforming 00398.223
-- END FILE

planet 04 -- Gargabour
-- class-M <INHABITABLE; GRAVITY
0.5-G OF PLANETARY NORM; ATMOSPHERE: 21% QUARTZENIDE GAS...

Fayette continued to stare at the screen with a mixture of
boredom and skepticism. Was papa trying to keep her out of the way
while he found out what the real problem was? She admitted that she
often enjoyed reading about the many worlds that Papa had visited
over the centuries before they met, but now found herself feeling
strangely useless now. Did he really think that the answer could be
in this infernal-

She started when she came to an entry she recognized:

planet 07 -- Vanestra
-- class-M <INHABITED; GRAVITY .9-G
OF PLANETARY NORM; ATMOSPHERE: 56% OXYYGEN, 18% NITROGEN, 13%
BALZINE, 07% METHANE, 06% UNKNOWN NATURAL GAS>
-- technology LEVEL 2 <land & water
vehicular transportation, artificial luminescence, telescopes>
-- unconfirmed alien influence
-- END FILE

planet 08 -- Porseus
-- class-X <QUARANTINED>
-- ****UNIDENTIFIED**ALIEN**VIRAL**
STRAIN**LOCATED**IN**SOUTHERN**HEMISPHERE****CONDITIONAL**70-YEAR
**QUARANTINE**IN**EFFECT****>
-- END FILE

planet 09 -- Carphaxx
-- class-J <UNINHABITED; GRAVITY
25-G OF PLANETARY NORM; ATMOSPHERE: 51% METHANE, 32% ZINC, 17%
NITROGEN>...

Fayette considered telling the Doctor about the quarantined
planet, but then thought better of it. We may have to actually go
there, she thought with a shudder, recalling the last time she had
had to wear one of Papa's quarantine suits. Her claustrophobia
passing slowly, she returned her attention to the still-scrolling
display before her.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

THE DIN FROM THE CROWD WAS deafening: the Imperial Coliseum of the
Emperor Barkarris was filled to capacity, as it had been every week
since its advent, many decades ago.

The two robed figures sat behind the finely-crafted marble
table that comprised their working space, situated high above the
arena floor. They spoke to each other in ostentatious and otherwise
unquiet tones, in order to be heard over the grandiose chantings of
the crowd below.

"We have a capacity crowd tonight in the Imperial Coliseum of
his reverence, the Emperor Barkarris!" yelled the first robed
figure, dressed in a rather conservative black-and-brown toga.
"This looks to be shaping up to be a tournament to remember!!"

"But isn't it always, my friend!" bellowed the other, who was
draped in a more colourful ensemble of bright green and canary
yellow. A smile spread itself easily across his bearded face. "I
predict a battle of previously-unseen proportions! Ohhh, yeah!!!"

The crowd continued its mindless cheering, seemingly unaware
that anything had yet to happen. Silently, a third person, dressed
in a safely-neutral navy-blue robe with subtle gold trim, joined
the other two at the elevated marble table, slipping on a headset
not unlike the ones his associates were wearing. "Did you two
surrubs miss me while I was off performing my royal duties?" he
asked, making sure to roll the 'R' in "royal", as was his annoying
ritual.

The pair sat regarding to third man with contempt. It was
evident by their faces that this was the way that they were
accustomed to regarding him. He took no notice.

"The gladiators will be filing out soon," the first said into
his headset microphone, transmitting his voice throughout the
Coliseum, and to a very select group of private dwellings scattered
about the capital. "Tell us, how are things looking down there
tonight? Any new happenings?"

The pretentious third figure looked unsurreptitiously down his
nose at the pair. "Not much to report, I'm afraid. Everybody wants
to skrag Hawk, Hawk wants to skrag everybody. Same old news,
different tournament..."

Their already monstrous loathing of the puckish man growing
exponentially, the pair bravely held their tongues.

"The dragons even apppear to be excited about something or
other tonight. I wonder if they can sense the tension here in the
Coliseum..?"

"Dragons are nothing more than simplistic scaly buffoons that
don't know enough to keep their flaming noses out of Moonkeepian
business..." Noting the time displayed on a large digitized
billboard-like display far above the roaring crowd, the blue-robed
walking arrogance rose from his seat. "Perhaps I had better get
Pit-side. Until later, my friends ..." With this, he removed the
headset again and strode away from the contemptuous pair. They
watched him go with relief.

"I really hate that chourgis..." said the flamboyantly-dressed
commentator, adjusting his wide-brimmed dragonback-riding hat over
his long brown locks.

"I concur fully, my friend," conceded the conservatively-
dressed commentator sitting beside him. "But let's get back to the
exciting card we have for tonight..!!"

The pair went on to bellow that this week's bad blood was
between the aforementioned Hawk (who would certainly be very
determined to win, and thusly very cross with any who would stand
in the way of his freedom) and an older gladiator named Bornai (who
had been fighting in the tournaments much longer than Hawk - about
ten years - and would be equally cross if the younger slave were to
gain his freedom before he had a chance at skragging the surrub).

"I've said it before and I'll say it again!!" exclaimed the
brightly-robed individual as he rose excitedly from his seat. "This
is gonna be the tournament to remember!!! Ohh, yeah!!!"

The audience shouted emphatically for the Games to commence.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

THE GLADIATOR DETENTION CELL was cramped and dirty, as it had been
for the last twenty-five years. Bornai remembered his first day as
if it were yesterday.

The combatants sat in clusters: Hawk sat silently among five
rookies as they talked nervously about anything other than their
imminent deaths, making sure not to crowd the infamous warrior.
Bornai stood across the cage, running a finger along the edge of
one of his shortswords, glancing every now and again at his blue-
skinned enemy. Hawk appeared to be sitting comfortably, despite the
multitude of weapons he had bedangled himself with.

Bornai realized that neither gladiator even really knew the
other, for they had never met in combat. But they knew of each
other. Bornai knew that Hawk would be released if he were to
survive this tournament, and would be damned if he would allow such
a thing without at least maiming him first. And he assumed that
Hawk knew that Bornai, who had only about two hundred wins under
his belt, was his only real opposition in the tournament. The older
gladiator leered longingly at Hawk's head, wondering how it would
look on the end of a spear. Even though Bornai had been a gladiator
for over ten years, he found it discomforting that he had only
fought every other week. But Hawk had fought every match of the
four-and-a-half solar years since winning his very first
tournament. His immense popularity was due mostly to his
efficiently brutal fighting style.

Bornai was also startled to realize that he and Hawk had never
been in a tournament together, before tonight. Odd...

"Just look at him!" Bornai said in a hushed tone to the
veteran who stood beside him. The balding combatant nodded, not
fully certain just what he was agreeing with. Bornai spat loudly
onto the grimy floor of the cage. Hawk blinked twice, his blue cat-
like eyes slowly winding their way up to Bornai's scarred face.
Both stared intensely at each other for an agonizingly long moment.
All activity in the holding cell ceased. No one breathed.

Bornai flinched away from the younger warrior's unrelenting
glare, blinking several times to clear his spotty vision. Hawk's
gaze returned to the GNzariak quintillipede that had been slowly
winding its way across the floor of the cell for the past three
hours, its multitude of legs not quite knowing which way they were
intended to go. Go for it, little buddy, Hawk cheered on the insect
silently. Hawk had always liked insects; he found that he could
relate with them on some front or another.

It was just getting itself all sorted out when Bornai also
noticed its confused little dance. He watched it for a moment,
waiting for it to find the split in the ancient foundation by his
foot, through which it could escape. Then he stepped on the first
metre or so of the insect, crushing it under his boot. A pleased
demonic smile spread itself across his orange features.

This act of unprovoked cruelty Hawk took notice of. He stood
slowly, adjusting his many weapons so that he could walk with
greater ease. A path cleared before him as he stepped up to Bornai,
who made certain that he did not flinch this time. Stopping mere
inches from his face, Hawk assumed a noncommittal stance and said,
"I really wish you hadn't done that, pilgrim." Drawing one of his
shortdaggers, Hawk plunged the knife deep into gullet of Bornai's
lackey, who sang wordlessly to the filmy ground. Untucking a small
end of material from Bornai's worn shirt, Hawk wiped the green
blood from his dagger. "See you in the Pit, my friend." With this,
he turned and walked back toward his seat, the gap behind him
closing as quickly as it had opened. All eyes left the pair as an
armoured guard unlocked the door.

The quintillipede wreathed in insectoid agony for a moment
longer, then broke itself in half. The newly-formed trillipede,
leaving its crushed and now-lifeless other half behind, made its
way back toward the crack in the foundation that had been its
destination three days ago. It crawled limberly over the leg of the
dead gladiator, confusing him for a strange-looking tree that
strangely hadn't been there a minute ago.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

THE TOURNAMENT WAS ABOUT TO start. The crowd grew more restless
with each passing moment, until finally the Royal Trumpeteers
emerged from behind a heavy curtain, horns ringing out through the
rafters. The already-great dim of the audience doubled as the long
precession of trumpets sounded in an almost synchronous tempo. The
fanfare cut off abruptly, and the spectators quickly hushed in
nervous anticipation of the slaughter.

"This looks like it!!" shouted the plain-robed commentator.
"This is one fabulous super-card we have scheduled for tonight,
RHandai! Forty competitors, each fighting for one common goal:
their freedom!"

"It is that!!" yelled RHandai into his headset microphone.
"Bornai the Unstoppable! Carkorz the Livid! Markux the Unlikable!
Vrarkl the Unmentionable! The Barbarrus Quadruplets!! And many
others!!! What a line-up, VinzMahn!"

"And let's not forget," VinzMahn bellowed. "The star of
tonight's Royal Imperial Games, the man who, one way or another,
will be participating in his very last Royal Tournament of
Conquest... the one... the only... the immortal, Hawk!!!"

The great red tapestry parted a second time, admitting the
pompous announcer. He strode purposefully out onto the floor of The
Pit, halting in the centre. Settling his navy-blue toga around his
sandled feet, he turned his attention to the many awaiting fans.
His job was to work the crowd into a big enough frenzy so as to
ensure that they purchase as much official Royal Tournament of
Conquest merchandise as they could carry before leaving the
Coliseum. But he saw that he didn't need to do much tonight for the
seventeenth night in a row, as the audience had worked itself into
a pretty good frenzy on its own. Another easy bag of garmun, he
thought happily to himself. No wonder I'm the second-richest man on
Moonkeep...

"My friends," he finally began, his perfect basso voce working
its magic on the few spectators who may yet be unaffected by the
almost electrical excitement. "I welcome you all to tonight's
tournament." He paused while the crowd roared its response. The
announcer raised his hands, awaiting the crowd's silence.

"Tonight, we have the rare honour of witnessing Tournament
history in the making," he said calmly. "Tonight, we have the truly
unique opportunity of being a part of the great and heralded Royal
Imperial Games tradition of unconditional and uncompromising
justice." With this, the crowd let out another burst of unabridged
gaiety and general giddiness.

"As always, tonight's tournament is brought to you by the fine
people in our Planetary Dominance Corps, whose motto is, 'If your
planet's got something worth exploiting, you're ours!'" The crowd
cheered raucously for the PDC, for without its forceful conquering
of the many planets that comprise the Moonkeepian Gladiatorial
Collection Agency, there would be no Royal Tournament of Conquest.
Gesturing back toward the faded red tapestry, the announcer said,
"So, without further adieu, I give you tonight's Warriors!!" The
tapestry parted, and the gladiators were welcomed by a cheer that
seemed to penetrate the very fabric of the Time Stream.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"WHAT THE..." THE DOCTOR SAID as the TARDIS pitched for a second
time. "That must have been one hoopy blast to have caused such an
aftershock. I should be able to get a bearing on it..." He turned
to the sensor console and adjusted the controls to locate the
source of the shockwave. "Ahh! There it is!" He pressed a finger to
the small screen just above the terminal. "That wasn't an
explosion... What is going on here?" The Time Lord instantly made
the connection between the sudden appearance of Black Light in the
Archeiches system and the abnormal spatial tremors emanating from
the small planet represented on his screen. "Of course! Why didn't
I think of this before!" He sidestepped Fayette to access the
Planetary Directory for the planet's name. "Moonkeep? Now where do
I know that name...?" He pondered this for all of two seconds
before recalibrating the TARDIS' controls to take them to the small
planet.

Continued... in part 2/5