Post by Fitz Kreiner on Jul 12, 2009 22:29:45 GMT
1
The Memory Remains.
The Memory Remains.
Johnson awoke with a start. He’d been dreaming. It was a restless and fitful sleep. He was sure that he’d heard the doors to his quarters open and close. He had to be imagining it, something in his sleep. With an exasperated sigh, he turned onto his side and pulled the covers up to his chin. He felt a sudden chill and a wave of fear washed over him. Something was wrong, but what? It had to be the sudden wake up. Johnson’s eyes fell onto the lighter section that was the window. As he stared at it, a dark shape moved past the window.
With a start, Johnson sat up, bumping his head on the top of the bunk. Swearing, he rubbed his head and cursed himself for jumping. It had to be someone outside doing repairs or checking the base systems. Sighing again, Johnson closed his eyes and tried to empty his mind before he slowly opened his eyes. There had been something wrong with the shadow. It wasn’t a pure silhouette, light had seemed to fall on it, and besides, there was nothing outside his quarters that would warrant a repair team.
His eyes now wide, he felt another wave of panic wash over him. He could almost feel another presence in the room. That wasn’t right. He shared quarters with two other crewmen, but they were due to be on duty, leaving him alone in the room. He was turning to hit the small switch to turn on the lights when the lighter section of the window disappeared. Something had moved in front of it. He could feel them stood before him.
There was a brief flash of bright light before the blackness returned and he knew no more.
*
It was black, a black void in which no light could penetrate. They were surrounding him. He couldn’t see them but he could feel their presence; surrounding him in the dark. Black shadows moving through a black void. They were getting closer. He could almost see them now; their dark shapes moving against a black background.
He didn’t know which way he was facing, or what the ground was like, but he still tried to move. His legs didn’t seem to want to obey him, feeling like they were made of lead. When he finally moved, it felt as though he were dragging his legs. He soon found himself falling; falling into the black void. Was he falling down a pit or was it simply a fall to the floor? He found out soon enough when he made a painful connection to the rough ground.
Looking round he could see a dark shape before him; blacker than the background. It was leaning towards him and started to come out of the darkness. How, he didn’t know; there wasn’t any light. But it was slowly emerging from the dark like something slowly rising out of water. Somehow, light started to catch the blank metal mask as it closed on him, revealing the faceplate. Then the arm came; the powerful, metal arm, lined with piping, the strong fingers reaching out to him. Then it came; the voice. That voice which had haunted him every night for what seemed longer than he could remember.
“You belong to us; you will be like u-”
*
Tom sat bolt upright in bed, sweat pouring down his face and back, eyes wide in fear. It had been that dream again. That same dream he’d had for ages now. Only this time he had seen them, and heard them. They’d spoken in his dreams before, but he had never heard anything they’d said.
Throwing back the covers, Tom swung his legs out of the bed. That was it; he was going to talk to the Doctor about all this. Reaching out to the chair near his bed he grabbed the jeans he’d thrown over it the night before and pulled them on, before tugging on a pair of clean socks. Grabbing the black shirt that lay in a crumpled heap in front of the chair, Tom slipped his arms through the sleeves.
Getting to his feet and opening the door, his stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since they’d left the Heroldis Bazaar in the Juruas system two days previously. Buttoning his shirt as he hurried down the corridor to the console room, Tom weighed up what he was going to do when he got there; first he was going to grab a bite to eat, then he was going to tell the Doctor about his dreams.
*
Patrick Miles walked into the Gravitron Control Room and looked around. His technicians were all busily working at their individual stations, their attention kept at their job. They had to be attentive, after all; one slip up could cause a wrong weather system to devastate an area of the globe. Well, that was a worst case scenario, and nothing like that had happened in nearly twenty five years.
A doctorate twice in Meteorological studies, and a specialist in Synoptic scale meteorology, Doctor Patrick Miles, fifty one, was head of the Gravitron Weather Control lunar base, and had been the past seven years. Miles was a popular figure on the base, and at six foot five, had acquired the affectionate nickname of ‘The Big M’ from his subordinates, the majority of whom called him ‘chief’ in a professional capacity, and was the longest serving head of the base since it became operational in the fifties.
The doors at the far back of the room slid open and Stephen Murdoch, one of the junior medical staff came rushing out, flustered. Miles stood patiently waiting, having been called back from the mess deck by an anxious call from Murdoch. Miles simple raised one eyebrow as the young Scott came to a halt before him.
“Well?” Miles asked simply. He wanted to know why he’d been dragged away from his breakfast.
“Phil never showed for his morning shift today,” Murdoch replied, shifting uncomfortably, “dunno why; he didn’t call a sickie. Jim and Matteo said he wasn’t there when they got back after their shift. Seems he’s gone AWOL. He could’ve taken the link back to Armstrong I guess.”
Miles thoughtfully rubbed his chin before scratching his bald head. “No one’s seen him this morning?” he asked. Seven years and he still hadn’t got used to the day and night shifts that the base went through to keep everyone acclimatised to Earth time.
“No, chief,” Murdoch said. “He had been showing signs of anxiety the past couple of days. Doctor Ricci thought that he was showing preliminary signs of the Space Madness and asked me to keep a professional eye on him. It seems I didn’t do a great job.” Murdoch’s shoulders slumped as he finished.
“Not your fault, Steve,” Miles said, placing a friendly hand on Murdoch’s shoulder. “The size of this place has increased a lot since Armstrong was built, makes it a lot easier for people to leave the base. Although it’s bloody annoying, that’s the third person in the last two weeks to go AWOL.”
“What d’ya recon chief?” Murdoch asked.
Miles thoughtfully chewed his lip. He was used to base crew asking for his advice; it showed their respect for him, which he was proud of. “There’s not a great deal we can do right now, it’s early. So; first of all, I’m going back to the mess deck and finishing my brekky and tea, then I think I’m gonna in touch with Armstrong, have one of the APS guard the link, make sure we don’t get many more AWOLs. Meanwhile, head back to work, Steve, you never know, Phil might turn up.”
Miles watched as Murdoch nodded and hurried away back to the sickbay. Despite Armstrong, the first civilian lunar colony, having been built nearby on the Moon’s surface and linked to the base via a shuttle link, a lot of the base crew still lived on site, even if their families lived in Armstrong. Even though Armstrong had its own hospital, the vast majority of the crew’s illnesses were treated in the sickbay, by the live-in medical team. Murdoch was the newest member of the medical team and at twenty six, the youngest, and fresh out of medical school had joined International Space Command and been positioned at the Weather Control base. In fact, it had been him who had coined the phrase ‘Space Madness’ to describe the psychological condition which had started to affect members of the crew.
Knowing there was little he could do at the present moment, Miles walked back down the short corridor from the control dome to the mess deck. Miles couldn’t have imagined being at the base without the mess deck, some of it may be reconstituted or processed food but it was better than nutrient cubes. He was relieved to see his half eaten breakfast still sat on its tray on the table, the mug of tea was still steaming. Sitting down, Miles tucked back into his eggs and bacon. He had hoped that today would be an easy day, still, if Phil Johnson going AWOL was the worst that could happen, then that meant things could only get better.
Miles looked up as Doctor Christina Miles, head of the medical team, placed a tray down opposite him on the table and took a seat. “You left without saying goodbye this morning,” she said, removing the plate from the tray and sliding it out of the way.
“Sorry, Chrissy,” Miles apologised. “I get the feeling it’s gonna be one of those days. Johnson hasn’t shown today, seems to have gone AWOL.”
“Johnson?” Christina asked, taking a gulp of strong black coffee, “The new Space Madness case?”
Miles nodded as he downed the remains of his tea. “Could just be something as simple as he absently got the link back to Armstrong, especially if you’re right about his condition.”
“I take it you’ve got in touch with the APS?”
Miles shook his head as he chewed on a piece of bacon. “Not yet,” he said with a mouthful. “There’s time.”
“I hope you’re right,” Christina replied. “We don’t yet know how severe this can get, don’t forget.”
“I haven’t, Chrissy, don’t worry,” Miles said placing a hand tenderly on that of his wife’s. “Still, all initial weather systems are looking good, so if Johnson going AWOL is the worst that can happen today, then hey; we’re in for a good day.” Miles grinned as he scooped up the last of his eggs and swallowed them down.
*
“So what d’ya think?” Tom asked as he took a seat on one of the bar stools in the kitchen nook of the console room.
“Hmm, yes,” the Doctor mused. The Time Lord had pulled one of the wooden panels of the console up, like the bonnet of a car, and had his head and shoulders buried deep inside as he worked busily on one of the TARDIS’s many systems.
“It’d be nice to know you’re fully paying attention to this,” Tom muttered, turning as the Microwave pinged, announcing that it had finished.
“Oh, I am, I assure you,” the Doctors voice came from inside the console “Dreams are important; never underestimate them.”
“So what do you think?” Tom repeated, removing the bowl of pasta from the microwave.
“Well,” the Doctor said, pulling himself out of the console and replacing the panel. Tom looked over as the wooden panel resealed itself seamlessly into the rest of the console. “It’s perfectly understandable; the Cybermen put you through an intense amount of physical and mental torture. It’s perfectly reasonable that your subconscious is still trying to come to terms with it, manifesting itself in these dreams.”
“So it’s nothing to worry about then?”
“I wouldn’t have thought so,” the Doctor smiled, now polishing the wooden surface of the console with a duster he had pulled out of one of his many pockets. “It’s just your subconscious dealing with the trauma.”
“But, seven months or so?” Tom replied picking a fork up from the breakfast bar.
“Time is immaterial,” the Doctor replied, pocketing the duster and turning to face Tom. “Don’t forget, you had an awful lot happen within a couple of days. Not everyone can cope with such things; it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
Tom nodded slightly as he leant back against the bar and scooped up some of the pasta and creamy sauce. The sound of the door to the rest of the TARDIS caused him to look up as Jess walked into the console room, looking from both the Doctor to Tom as they descended into silence.
“What?” she asked suspiciously.
“Nothing,” Tom smiled, “you just walked in as we finished the conversation.”
Turning to the Doctor, Jess raised an eyebrow as the Doctor smiled and turned back to the console as the TARDIS gave a sudden lurch. Jess saw the Doctor throw himself to the console for support, just before she painfully hit the floor on her right side. She heard a crashing sound as she looked up to Tom, who had fallen from where he had been leaning against the breakfast bar, the bowl of pasta now a mess on the console room floor.
“Oh, man!” the young Time Lord cried out in an almost comical sense of despair.
Jess was just getting back to her feet when the TARDIS gave another lurch which sent her falling back to the floor. She looked around to see that Tom was still sprawled on the floor, amidst the broken bowl and splats of pasta in Carbonara sauce.
“What the hell is going on?” she shouted up at the Doctor, who was gripping the console, wrestling with several flight controls.
“I don’t know,” the Time Lord replied, almost losing his footing and falling back as the TARDIS lurched again. “It feels like we’ve flown into some sort of gravitational anomaly. It’s disrupted all the systems, so I can’t dematerialise.”
“It never rains,” Tom muttered, pulling himself up to his feet before holding a hand out to help Jess to hers.
“It does seem to be a bit of a downpour at the moment,” the Doctor agreed, as Jess and Tom staggered over to the console, supporting themselves on the wooden struts that surrounded it.
“I really don’t know why we always let you drive,” Jess said, cheekily sticking her tongue out.
Looking up, the Doctor flashed her a large grin. “If the driver knew where he was going, where would the adventure be?”
“Sometimes it would be nice to have a good rest,” Tom said as he hit his head against the pillar he was clutching onto as the TARDIS lurched again.
“What were our days on the Heroldis Bazaar?” Jess asked.
“I’m not much of a shopper,” Tom admitted.
“Moan, moan, moan,” Jess said playfully rolling her eyes.
“Aha! Yes!” The Doctor cried as the buffeting of the TARDIS stopped and the wheezing of the ships engines filled the console room. “Broken free, we’re back in full flight again now. You know, it’s odd, I’m sure I’ve felt this kind of thing before.”
“Back in full flight?” Jess asked, raising her eyebrow at the Doctor.
Nodding vigorously, his chestnut curls bobbing as he did so, the Doctor looked down at the controls before stopping and looking up at Jess. Giving the Doctor an ‘are you sure?’ look, Jess looked to the central column. The crystal rods inside the tall glass tube had ceased, and the column was pulsing with a strong blue light.
“Oh, how odd,” the Doctor said, sounding a little crestfallen.
“Doesn’t that mean we’ve landed?” Jess asked, letting go of the wooden pillar.
“It does indeed,” the Doctor replied, “which is odd, because we shouldn’t have so quickly. Unless, of course, we were right next to the source of the disturbance, well, within ten thousand miles. Hmm, let me see,” the Doctor trailed off as he walked round the console checking the readings.
“Do you get that feeling?” Tom asked Jess quietly, sidling up to her.
“Doesn’t mean it has to be something nasty this time,” Jess said leaning on the console, watching the Doctor as he worked. “The last two stops haven’t.”
Tom opened his mouth to reply by was cut off by a cry of recognition by the Doctor.
“Yes of course, come round here you two and have a look at this,” the Doctor said, proudly pulling the scanner round to his position. “We’re on the moon,” he said, grinning as he pointed to the screen.
“The Moon,” Jess asked looking at the image on the screen “as in; the moon in the sky, the Earth’s Moon?”
“The one and only,” the Doctor replied. “I just wonder when we are,” he added looking back down at the chronometric readings.
“Well, can’t we nip out for a bit, have a wander around?” Tom asked. “I’m sure you’ll have pressure suits or space suits or something.”
Jess looked up on hearing Tom, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, Doctor, can we? I’ve never been to the moon, or worn a space suit. It’d be awesome.”
The Doctor looked up puzzled. “You’ve been on alien worlds, space ships and stations and met aliens, but you want to go out on the moon?”
“Yeah, it’s the moon. I mean; one small step and all that.” Jess protested. “I dunno what it is, it’s not like the alien worlds weren’t cool, but it’s the moon. I always wanted to go to the moon when I was little.”
The Doctor made a point of thoughtfully tapping his lip with his index finger, in deliberately slow movements. “Hmm,” he said eventually, “why not? Just a quick little excursion and then we can head off again. I’ll get the suits.”
Grinning, Jess turned to Tom and gently hit him on the arm. “And you’ve some cleaning to do,” she said pointing to the spilt pasta.
*
The TARDIS was sat near the edge of a large crater, just over the ridge laid the sprawling structure of the Moon base, the large dome housing the Gravitron and the rest of the building, linked by numerous tunnels. One tunnel led off towards the even more distant structure of Armstrong, which dwarfed the base in size.
Laying in wait in a nearby crater, its presence totally masked and unknown by the occupants of both the lunar base and colony and the TARDIS crew, sat a silver, saucer shaped space ship. A thin layer of lunar dust had settled over the outer hull of the ship, a result of its landing, some twenty four years previously. It had lain in wait all those years, and a myriad of footprints in the dust surrounded the main airlock of the ship. Another doorway was concealed in the wall of the crater, mere meters away, making it seem like a natural docking port for the ship. The door in the crater wall had more in style with the space ship than the moon base and led to a long tunnel, which stretched under the surface of the moon.
Inside the ship, a figure was stood staring at a large screen in the central control chamber. The image on the screen showed a technological array. The bottom of the array was a mass of thick tubes and wires which snaked round and over each other and out of sight off the bottom of the screen. Above that sat a large bulbous centre with a strong yet thin gleaming metal framework which emerged above the central bulbous area and met at the top, joining to an antenna at the top with an oscillating twin pronged tip. The central area pulsed with light as an electronic voice came from the speakers.
“Report,” it said.
The figure watching the screen replied with an equally electronic voice. “Phase one is in operation; preliminary reports suggest human mental instability easier to create that anticipated. Our numbers are beginning to increase. Phase two is in preparation.”
“Understood,” the device on the screen replied. “Report again when phase one is complete.”
“Understood,” reaching out and with a wave of energy, the Cyberman deactivated the screen before turning and walking deeper into the ship.