Post by Fitz Kreiner on Jun 8, 2009 12:51:55 GMT
Jess stood just inside the garage door in amazement. She couldn’t quite believe the sight before her. Amid the military vehicles and black staff cars stood a bright canary-yellow Edwardian Roadster. It was open topped with a curly brass horn to one side of the windscreen; the rubber ‘hooter’ end was in the shape of a hand and at the sides, behind the headlights was what looked remarkably like old gas lamps. The whole thing looked a massive hotchpotch, with the leather seats that stretched from one side of the car to the other. The registration plates were the most curious, reading; “WHO 8”.
“Well, what do you think?” The Doctor was stood proudly, a large grin across his face.
“What is it?” Tom asked, clearly bemused by the Doctors enthusiasm.
“Bessie,” the Doctor said as though that explained it all and throwing his arms wide before bounding down the few steps and jumping up into the car, behind the wheel. “Well, come on you two, hop in.”
Jess and Tom turned to each other and exchanged bemused looks before stepping down to the cars. Turning back to Tom, Jess cheekily stuck her tongue out at him and ran round to the front passenger seat and climbed in sitting next to the Doctor. Rolling his eyes, Tom clambered into the back, moving across a large piece of electrical equipment across so he could sit down.
“No seatbelts?” Jess asked.
“No need,” the Doctor replied, tapping his nose and then starting the engine.
“What’s this thing then?” He asked, hefting the electronic device up. It was based on a large tray, and in one corner had a steel globe with two diodes on the top and a length of wire coming out of one side and going into what looked like a microphone, with a large prong sticking out of it.
“Oh, that,” the Doctor said casually, as he glanced round whilst pulling the car out of the garage. “I whipped that up back in the seventies, when Earth was having trouble with the Nestenes before.”
“And you didn’t bring it out before, why?” Tom retorted, placing it back in the seat beside him.
“Because I wasn’t sure about the time before,” the Doctor replied, before adding sheepishly, “I was also hoping what I made out of Jess’s CD player would work better; almost thirty years of technological progress and all that.”
“You think it’ll work then?” Jess asked clinging onto the seat as the Doctor threw the car round a corner.
“Oh no doubt,” the Doctor replied reaching forwards and flicking a switch on the dashboard. “And you shouldn’t have to hold on now.” He added turning and winking at Jess. “I’ve activated the anti-inertia field, so technically you could stand on the seat doing River Dance, only I wouldn’t recommend that, you might draw some odd looks.”
“If we aren’t getting enough already in this old crock,” Tom said from the back.
“Old crock?” The Doctor replied, almost aghast. Leaning forward he gently patted the steering wheel. “Take no notice old girl,” he muttered.
“Yeah, I think it’s a funky car,” Jess grinned.
“Funky?” The Doctor asked, turning to her again, “I don’t think the old girl’s ever been called that before.”
“Well, it is; major old school. I like it. It suits you.” Jess sat back, wriggling into a comfortable position. “So where is it we’re going then?”
“To confront the Master, and stop all this before things get out of hand.” The Doctor replied, his face set and serious.
“And we’re not waiting for backup from the UNIT lot, why?” Tom asked.
“Like I said, we’re trying to avoid a lot of needless deaths.” The Doctor shouted over his shoulder. “It was bad enough at the Rutillus Alec factory, but I think our being a smaller group, we’ve more chance of infiltrating the factory without calling attention to ourselves. As useful as they can be from time to time, the UNIT chaps tend to burst in guns blazing and making a terrible racket.”
“But wouldn’t they help if we ran into some Autons?” Jess asked.”
“Bullets don’t work on Autons,” the Doctor replied flatly. “And even the flame throwers would only have a limited usage time. Plus, if we’re going into a factory, flame throwers could be very dangerous. They shouldn’t really be used indoors.”
“Hey, it stopped the facsimile didn’t it?” Tom protested.
The Doctor glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “I’m not saying that for your benefit Tom, don’t worry. There are vast differences between UNIT HQ and a fully operational factory, with fumes and gasses.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s true.” Tom muttered to himself sitting back.
“So, after you initially telling us that the Master was too dangerous, you’re now taking us right into his lair?” Jess asked, turning to the Doctor and raising an eyebrow.
“Well, you certainly seem to think otherwise, following him off your own back,” the Doctor smiled. “And I think I can certainly trust your judgement. I’m glad I’ve got the pair of you watching my back.”
Jess looked back down, feeling the blood rushing to her cheeks. The Doctor certainly seemed to put a lot of trust in both her and Tom, a lot more than UNIT it seemed, which really flattered her, especially when he said that he’d unofficially worked for them for years. Glancing over her shoulder, Jess saw that Tom was sat back in the rear seat of the Doctor’s car; the wind was whipping his hair all about in a wild manner.
Turning back and looking out of the windscreen, Jess realised exactly how fast the car was now going, yet it seemed as though they were still crawling along. It must be the inertia field that the Doctor mentioned. They were now well out of Camden and driving through more, what she would have classed, mainstream areas. The yellow roadster was starting to attract some bizarre looks from passes by as they whizzed past them.
She had to admit, though, she didn’t care what looks they were now getting. She’d gotten worse from aliens on other planets. She was rather enjoying the ride, despite the rising knot of fear of facing off with the Master again, and the Autons. Still, having the Doctor and Tom with her this time comforted her immensely, she knew the Doctor wouldn’t let any hard come to her, and Tom seemed hugely protective of her in danger as well. Reassured with these thoughts, she settled down in her seat and watched the images of London flash by as the Doctor drove.
“Well, with this facsimile business, and if Hilton’s replacement is a facsimile, I suggest that we keep all this information on a definite need-to-know basis.” Sir Daniel Ashfield said, looking round at the assembled military personnel. “I suggest that to stem any security leaks from getting back to this Master character, then you only involve the officers and troops you know you can trust.”
“With all due respect, are you sure you can make the same claim, sir?” Bailey asked. “I know we’ve had a few mysterious deaths in the upper brass of the army and some unknowns have come to the light, so it might not be the easiest to keep it from them.”
“Well, then I suggest that you try, General.” Ashfield said, turning to face the General.
“I can safely say, sir, that with my staff, I can trust them all.” Morris said, chipping in. “The two facsimile’s that were sent to this HQ have been dealt with. Well, one of them has, the other is no longer about.”
“And where is it?” Ashfield asked, turning on him.
“I can only assume that it has returned to the Master.” Morris said. “We know that it’s no longer in the building.”
“And the other?”
“The other has definitely been taken care of.” Morris replied. “Melted down into a puddle. It’s still in the lab if you’d care to take a look for yourself?”
“That’ll do, Captain,” Bailey cut in.
“Thank you, General,” Ashfield said. “The fact of the matter is, we are dealing with what is potentially a crippling nationwide crisis here. If the Doctor is indeed correct that high ranking personnel have been replaced with these deadly facsimile’s then a state of emergency will have to be declared. This may mean that we have to initiate a state of martial law.”
“That’s all very well, sir,” Lovatt said, leaning forwards, “but is that really a wise idea? I mean, if the Master has replaced some of the top brass with facsimiles then surely that will make it easy for him to take control of the country? Especially after what the Doctor has said about the Master, we can’t put it past him.”
“That is an extremely good point, sir,” Bailey confirmed. “Even with these deaths that have occurred in government, it seems to suggest that he’s planned for either a military emergency or political emergency. As the Doctor said, he’s covered all the bases.”
“Well, what about a screening process, so we can find out who is real and who is a facsimile?” Loding asked. “Like blood tests or something similar. If I know one thing; that’s mannequins don’t bleed.”
“That’s a very good idea, Corporal.” Morris smiled, his green eyes sparkling at the idea that Loding had offered. “What about it, Doctor? Is there something you can quickly whip up? You’ve been rather quiet-?”
Morris turned to the side of the room where the Doctor had sat down after starting the meeting. The Time Lord was conspicuous by his absence. Turning back to the table confused, the remaining occupants of the room returned his confused stare. Opening his mouth to ask either of the Doctors companions, he noticed that they too had disappeared.
“Where is he?” Ashfield asked.
“Deserted?” Bailey suggested. “Fled because he knows it’s futile and there’s nothing we can do?”
“No, I don’t think so somehow,” Morris said looking at the door. Walking over, he opened it and the Private outside stood to attention. “Has the Doctor come out here?” He asked.
“Yes sir. He, and his two friends, came out about fifteen minutes ago.” The private replied.
“Maybe you were right, Bailey.” Ashfield said, upon hearing the private’s report.
Ignoring the politician’s negative comment, Morris turned back to the private. “Just call down to the garage and see if the Doctor’s car is still there?”
Morris was sure that the Doctor would not run out on them, not after all the reports that he’d read previously. The length of time that the report took to come back to him seemed to last forever. Morris was almost relieved when the Private turned back with a negative reply.
“No, I would imagine that he’s gone off to confront the Master alone.” Morris said, turning back to the room. “And I’d guess that his two friends have gone off with him.”
Ashfield was immediately on his feet and grabbed the door and pulled it open all the way. “Didn’t you think to try to stop him at all?” He shouted at the private.
“Sir Daniel, the Doctor isn’t a prisoner, he’s free to come and go as he pleases.” Morris protested. “He’s here helping us out of his own good will; he could leave any time he wants.”
“And how do you know he hasn’t?” Ashfield countered.
“Because, his car has gone from the garage, and we’d have heard if he’d left by his normal means.” Morris replied.
“And what do you intend to do, Captain?”
Morris looked round the room briefly before turning back to Ashfield. “Sir Daniel, this is now a military matter and I would kindly ask you to step aside.” Ignoring the outrage on Ashfield’s face, Morris stepped into the room and looked at Lovatt. “Sergeant, liaise with General Bailey, arrange a blood test for anyone who has to be involved with this operation. Corporal, you’re with me, we’re going after the Doctor.”
Getting to her feet, Loding squeezed past Ashfield, the politician still stood with a look of annoyance on his face, and stood in the corridor, waiting for further instructions from Morris.
Turning, Morris pointed at the private at the door. “You’re with me too,” he said, “and make sure the two of you are well armed and be in the garage in five minutes.” Motioning the soldiers to move, Morris made his way down the corridor to the garages.
Detective Inspector Hammond stepped out of the police station and blinked in the bright sunshine. He’d just finished a mammoth twenty hour shift, his third of the week. He needed the overtime of late. Yawning, he pulled a pair of sunglasses out of his suit jacket inside pocket and popped them on. Immediately the bright glare of the late summer sun was cut down and he didn’t need to squint so much anymore.
The street was full of morning shoppers, bustling around each other, some laden down with large backs. There were still large groups of youths about as well. Clearly the schools and colleges hadn’t restarted yet from the summer break. Hammond hadn’t got twenty yards down the road before he was accosted by one of those god awful street performers that had seemed to spring up everywhere. He knew that they were in preparation for the upcoming celebration, but he was already sick to the back teeth of them. He didn’t see the point in them in the first place, but now it just seemed silly.
The Mime artist kept stepping in front of him and making silly gestures, as if he were placing his hands on a glass wall. Rolling his eyes, Hammond pulled his warrant card out of his pocket.
“Look, sunshine, I’m a police officer. Shift out of my way will you?” He said, brandishing his warrant card.
The Mime artist cocked his head as he looked at the card and then up at Hammond. Keeping his face set and grim, Hammond looked back into the performer’s face, in the hope of intimidating him. It was the same look he gave suspects when interviewing them. But this time, his face was the one that fell. The paint on the performer’s face was too perfect, it wasn’t make-up and neither was it a mask. Two blank white eyes stared back at him.
Hammonds’ mouth slackened in shock as the mime then stood up straight and held its hand out. It looked like he was extending it to shake hands, and Hammond almost automatically went to shake it but something stopped him. Looking down at the mime’s hand, he watched in rapt horror as the fingers dropped away and a short stubby tube slid out. The hand rose until the tube was pointing into Hammond’s face. He watched it rise and then saw a puff of yellowish smoke explode from the end. It was the last thing he ever saw.
A group of shoppers were moving round the confrontation, not aware of the deadly purpose of it until it had happened. Screams and shouts started as Hammond’s body hit the floor, his head lolling and eyes wide in shock. Panic soon spread fast through the crowds of shoppers as the mime artist started firing into the crowd, those closest to the incident turned, screaming, running into and pushing those who got in their way.
Further down the street, other street performers stopped their performances and straightened. Jugglers stood stock still, their juggling balls and batons clattering to the floor, living statues stepped down from their plinths and mime artists straightened. As a whole, the Autons raised their right arms and the fingers dropped away.
The street then erupted into chaos.
“Well, what do you think?” The Doctor was stood proudly, a large grin across his face.
“What is it?” Tom asked, clearly bemused by the Doctors enthusiasm.
“Bessie,” the Doctor said as though that explained it all and throwing his arms wide before bounding down the few steps and jumping up into the car, behind the wheel. “Well, come on you two, hop in.”
Jess and Tom turned to each other and exchanged bemused looks before stepping down to the cars. Turning back to Tom, Jess cheekily stuck her tongue out at him and ran round to the front passenger seat and climbed in sitting next to the Doctor. Rolling his eyes, Tom clambered into the back, moving across a large piece of electrical equipment across so he could sit down.
“No seatbelts?” Jess asked.
“No need,” the Doctor replied, tapping his nose and then starting the engine.
“What’s this thing then?” He asked, hefting the electronic device up. It was based on a large tray, and in one corner had a steel globe with two diodes on the top and a length of wire coming out of one side and going into what looked like a microphone, with a large prong sticking out of it.
“Oh, that,” the Doctor said casually, as he glanced round whilst pulling the car out of the garage. “I whipped that up back in the seventies, when Earth was having trouble with the Nestenes before.”
“And you didn’t bring it out before, why?” Tom retorted, placing it back in the seat beside him.
“Because I wasn’t sure about the time before,” the Doctor replied, before adding sheepishly, “I was also hoping what I made out of Jess’s CD player would work better; almost thirty years of technological progress and all that.”
“You think it’ll work then?” Jess asked clinging onto the seat as the Doctor threw the car round a corner.
“Oh no doubt,” the Doctor replied reaching forwards and flicking a switch on the dashboard. “And you shouldn’t have to hold on now.” He added turning and winking at Jess. “I’ve activated the anti-inertia field, so technically you could stand on the seat doing River Dance, only I wouldn’t recommend that, you might draw some odd looks.”
“If we aren’t getting enough already in this old crock,” Tom said from the back.
“Old crock?” The Doctor replied, almost aghast. Leaning forward he gently patted the steering wheel. “Take no notice old girl,” he muttered.
“Yeah, I think it’s a funky car,” Jess grinned.
“Funky?” The Doctor asked, turning to her again, “I don’t think the old girl’s ever been called that before.”
“Well, it is; major old school. I like it. It suits you.” Jess sat back, wriggling into a comfortable position. “So where is it we’re going then?”
“To confront the Master, and stop all this before things get out of hand.” The Doctor replied, his face set and serious.
“And we’re not waiting for backup from the UNIT lot, why?” Tom asked.
“Like I said, we’re trying to avoid a lot of needless deaths.” The Doctor shouted over his shoulder. “It was bad enough at the Rutillus Alec factory, but I think our being a smaller group, we’ve more chance of infiltrating the factory without calling attention to ourselves. As useful as they can be from time to time, the UNIT chaps tend to burst in guns blazing and making a terrible racket.”
“But wouldn’t they help if we ran into some Autons?” Jess asked.”
“Bullets don’t work on Autons,” the Doctor replied flatly. “And even the flame throwers would only have a limited usage time. Plus, if we’re going into a factory, flame throwers could be very dangerous. They shouldn’t really be used indoors.”
“Hey, it stopped the facsimile didn’t it?” Tom protested.
The Doctor glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “I’m not saying that for your benefit Tom, don’t worry. There are vast differences between UNIT HQ and a fully operational factory, with fumes and gasses.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s true.” Tom muttered to himself sitting back.
“So, after you initially telling us that the Master was too dangerous, you’re now taking us right into his lair?” Jess asked, turning to the Doctor and raising an eyebrow.
“Well, you certainly seem to think otherwise, following him off your own back,” the Doctor smiled. “And I think I can certainly trust your judgement. I’m glad I’ve got the pair of you watching my back.”
Jess looked back down, feeling the blood rushing to her cheeks. The Doctor certainly seemed to put a lot of trust in both her and Tom, a lot more than UNIT it seemed, which really flattered her, especially when he said that he’d unofficially worked for them for years. Glancing over her shoulder, Jess saw that Tom was sat back in the rear seat of the Doctor’s car; the wind was whipping his hair all about in a wild manner.
Turning back and looking out of the windscreen, Jess realised exactly how fast the car was now going, yet it seemed as though they were still crawling along. It must be the inertia field that the Doctor mentioned. They were now well out of Camden and driving through more, what she would have classed, mainstream areas. The yellow roadster was starting to attract some bizarre looks from passes by as they whizzed past them.
She had to admit, though, she didn’t care what looks they were now getting. She’d gotten worse from aliens on other planets. She was rather enjoying the ride, despite the rising knot of fear of facing off with the Master again, and the Autons. Still, having the Doctor and Tom with her this time comforted her immensely, she knew the Doctor wouldn’t let any hard come to her, and Tom seemed hugely protective of her in danger as well. Reassured with these thoughts, she settled down in her seat and watched the images of London flash by as the Doctor drove.
*
“Well, with this facsimile business, and if Hilton’s replacement is a facsimile, I suggest that we keep all this information on a definite need-to-know basis.” Sir Daniel Ashfield said, looking round at the assembled military personnel. “I suggest that to stem any security leaks from getting back to this Master character, then you only involve the officers and troops you know you can trust.”
“With all due respect, are you sure you can make the same claim, sir?” Bailey asked. “I know we’ve had a few mysterious deaths in the upper brass of the army and some unknowns have come to the light, so it might not be the easiest to keep it from them.”
“Well, then I suggest that you try, General.” Ashfield said, turning to face the General.
“I can safely say, sir, that with my staff, I can trust them all.” Morris said, chipping in. “The two facsimile’s that were sent to this HQ have been dealt with. Well, one of them has, the other is no longer about.”
“And where is it?” Ashfield asked, turning on him.
“I can only assume that it has returned to the Master.” Morris said. “We know that it’s no longer in the building.”
“And the other?”
“The other has definitely been taken care of.” Morris replied. “Melted down into a puddle. It’s still in the lab if you’d care to take a look for yourself?”
“That’ll do, Captain,” Bailey cut in.
“Thank you, General,” Ashfield said. “The fact of the matter is, we are dealing with what is potentially a crippling nationwide crisis here. If the Doctor is indeed correct that high ranking personnel have been replaced with these deadly facsimile’s then a state of emergency will have to be declared. This may mean that we have to initiate a state of martial law.”
“That’s all very well, sir,” Lovatt said, leaning forwards, “but is that really a wise idea? I mean, if the Master has replaced some of the top brass with facsimiles then surely that will make it easy for him to take control of the country? Especially after what the Doctor has said about the Master, we can’t put it past him.”
“That is an extremely good point, sir,” Bailey confirmed. “Even with these deaths that have occurred in government, it seems to suggest that he’s planned for either a military emergency or political emergency. As the Doctor said, he’s covered all the bases.”
“Well, what about a screening process, so we can find out who is real and who is a facsimile?” Loding asked. “Like blood tests or something similar. If I know one thing; that’s mannequins don’t bleed.”
“That’s a very good idea, Corporal.” Morris smiled, his green eyes sparkling at the idea that Loding had offered. “What about it, Doctor? Is there something you can quickly whip up? You’ve been rather quiet-?”
Morris turned to the side of the room where the Doctor had sat down after starting the meeting. The Time Lord was conspicuous by his absence. Turning back to the table confused, the remaining occupants of the room returned his confused stare. Opening his mouth to ask either of the Doctors companions, he noticed that they too had disappeared.
“Where is he?” Ashfield asked.
“Deserted?” Bailey suggested. “Fled because he knows it’s futile and there’s nothing we can do?”
“No, I don’t think so somehow,” Morris said looking at the door. Walking over, he opened it and the Private outside stood to attention. “Has the Doctor come out here?” He asked.
“Yes sir. He, and his two friends, came out about fifteen minutes ago.” The private replied.
“Maybe you were right, Bailey.” Ashfield said, upon hearing the private’s report.
Ignoring the politician’s negative comment, Morris turned back to the private. “Just call down to the garage and see if the Doctor’s car is still there?”
Morris was sure that the Doctor would not run out on them, not after all the reports that he’d read previously. The length of time that the report took to come back to him seemed to last forever. Morris was almost relieved when the Private turned back with a negative reply.
“No, I would imagine that he’s gone off to confront the Master alone.” Morris said, turning back to the room. “And I’d guess that his two friends have gone off with him.”
Ashfield was immediately on his feet and grabbed the door and pulled it open all the way. “Didn’t you think to try to stop him at all?” He shouted at the private.
“Sir Daniel, the Doctor isn’t a prisoner, he’s free to come and go as he pleases.” Morris protested. “He’s here helping us out of his own good will; he could leave any time he wants.”
“And how do you know he hasn’t?” Ashfield countered.
“Because, his car has gone from the garage, and we’d have heard if he’d left by his normal means.” Morris replied.
“And what do you intend to do, Captain?”
Morris looked round the room briefly before turning back to Ashfield. “Sir Daniel, this is now a military matter and I would kindly ask you to step aside.” Ignoring the outrage on Ashfield’s face, Morris stepped into the room and looked at Lovatt. “Sergeant, liaise with General Bailey, arrange a blood test for anyone who has to be involved with this operation. Corporal, you’re with me, we’re going after the Doctor.”
Getting to her feet, Loding squeezed past Ashfield, the politician still stood with a look of annoyance on his face, and stood in the corridor, waiting for further instructions from Morris.
Turning, Morris pointed at the private at the door. “You’re with me too,” he said, “and make sure the two of you are well armed and be in the garage in five minutes.” Motioning the soldiers to move, Morris made his way down the corridor to the garages.
*
Detective Inspector Hammond stepped out of the police station and blinked in the bright sunshine. He’d just finished a mammoth twenty hour shift, his third of the week. He needed the overtime of late. Yawning, he pulled a pair of sunglasses out of his suit jacket inside pocket and popped them on. Immediately the bright glare of the late summer sun was cut down and he didn’t need to squint so much anymore.
The street was full of morning shoppers, bustling around each other, some laden down with large backs. There were still large groups of youths about as well. Clearly the schools and colleges hadn’t restarted yet from the summer break. Hammond hadn’t got twenty yards down the road before he was accosted by one of those god awful street performers that had seemed to spring up everywhere. He knew that they were in preparation for the upcoming celebration, but he was already sick to the back teeth of them. He didn’t see the point in them in the first place, but now it just seemed silly.
The Mime artist kept stepping in front of him and making silly gestures, as if he were placing his hands on a glass wall. Rolling his eyes, Hammond pulled his warrant card out of his pocket.
“Look, sunshine, I’m a police officer. Shift out of my way will you?” He said, brandishing his warrant card.
The Mime artist cocked his head as he looked at the card and then up at Hammond. Keeping his face set and grim, Hammond looked back into the performer’s face, in the hope of intimidating him. It was the same look he gave suspects when interviewing them. But this time, his face was the one that fell. The paint on the performer’s face was too perfect, it wasn’t make-up and neither was it a mask. Two blank white eyes stared back at him.
Hammonds’ mouth slackened in shock as the mime then stood up straight and held its hand out. It looked like he was extending it to shake hands, and Hammond almost automatically went to shake it but something stopped him. Looking down at the mime’s hand, he watched in rapt horror as the fingers dropped away and a short stubby tube slid out. The hand rose until the tube was pointing into Hammond’s face. He watched it rise and then saw a puff of yellowish smoke explode from the end. It was the last thing he ever saw.
A group of shoppers were moving round the confrontation, not aware of the deadly purpose of it until it had happened. Screams and shouts started as Hammond’s body hit the floor, his head lolling and eyes wide in shock. Panic soon spread fast through the crowds of shoppers as the mime artist started firing into the crowd, those closest to the incident turned, screaming, running into and pushing those who got in their way.
Further down the street, other street performers stopped their performances and straightened. Jugglers stood stock still, their juggling balls and batons clattering to the floor, living statues stepped down from their plinths and mime artists straightened. As a whole, the Autons raised their right arms and the fingers dropped away.
The street then erupted into chaos.