Post by Oldmankrondas on Apr 12, 2011 16:22:24 GMT
1999
Rachel Talbot stepped into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water from the sink, glancing through the window at the party which was now in full swing in the garden. George's brother by the barbecue, her father dancing with one of his younger grandchildren and the birthday girl surrounded by friends but looking more sullen and distant than she had ever seen her. 'To the teenage years...' Rachel toasted herself and took a large gulp of water from the tumbler, emptied it, then rinsed it in the sink before replacing it on the drying rack. The doorbell rang and Rachel smiled, shaking her head. 'Knew you wouldn't be late...and that you'd forget your keys.'
She hurried through the hallway, swung open the front door to be greeted by two solemn looking figures; a man and a woman, in military uniform. 'Mrs Talbot? My name is Brigadier Winifred Bamberra can we come inside?'
Rachel couldn't speak, she could hear some commotion from the garden. 'It..it's my daughters birthday....er, sorry, come in.' She stepped aside and let them both enter, ushering them into the living room. She slumped into the armchair, George's armchair.
Bamberra sat down on the couch, the man just stood in the doorway, silent. 'I'm afraid that a couple of hours ago, George and a small UNIT team were working on a top secret project at a facility not far from here. It's unclear yet exactly what happened, but there was a large explosion....Mrs Talbot, I'm afraid George was killed this afternoon.'
'Rachel! Is that him? We've got the cake rea...' Neil Talbot, George's twin brother paused in the doorway, looked to the soldier, then to Bamberra, and finally to Rachel, understanding. And in that silence, singing could be heard from the garden.
Happy birthday dear Anna....Happy birthday to you.
2012
George Talbot is lying in a field, he doesn't remember how he got there and also doesn't remember the last time he had such a splitting headache. He rises now so that he's on his knees, looks up at the blue sky above and smiles. George is on his feet now, turns around to see lights dancing in front of him, crackling like electricity, expanding and contracting. And then he remembers what happened, and wonders where everybody went.
1829
The Doctor had already plotted in the coordinates for UNIT H.Q in 2012 by the time Anna had put down the phone. The time rotor began moving up and down to indicate the TARDIS was in flight. He moved round the console to stand next to her, placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. They stood in the console room in silence.
Brigadier Harchester was looking over the files in front of him, he had to admit it was perplexing. George Talbot, a decorated UNIT officer, known for operating above and beyond the call of duty to ensure his men got home safely, was killed in a devastating explosion during top secret tests. Top secret tests that Harchester himself knew nothing about. Then, four hours ago, a UNIT team had stumbled upon some strange energy readings, and found George Talbot, not a minute older from when he was supposedly killed, right in the middle of them.
The phonecall to Anna had been difficult, she had become a trusted and valued colleague since joining his division a couple of years previously. In the months between the Masters black hole device and the Doctor's reappearance, the two had become good friends outside of work, visiting Sir Alistair once a month.
An alarm sounded from his computer, stirring Harchester out of his thoughts. It was an alarm that Sir Alistair had passed on to him, one UNIT had developed at the former Brigadier's request. Whenever one of the tracking stations picked up a particular set of readings it would sound, informing the owner that the Doctor was once again on the planet. It wasn't so that a UNIT team could go and pick him up and employ his services, Lethbridge-Stewart just found it comforting to know his old friend was still around. Harchester consulted the monitor to check the Doctor's whereabouts, he wouldn't have to travel far, it appeared that the TARDIS had arrived on the street below.
'No, I'm just pulling up now....' she replied, taking her keys out of the ignition and reaching for her notepad. '...I'm just not entirely sure this is my sort of article.' She opened the door and stepped out on to the quiet suburban street, unusually quiet for such a pleasant Sunday afternoon. They were probably all out enjoying the sunshine. 'Oh I know, it's the way of modern journalism....celebrities sell...and if you think it'll be my sort of thing.' Walking up the street, she was checking the doors for number 32, right in front of her, good. 'Okay I'm here now, goodbye!' She pushed the red button and ended the call, taking a deep breath, and pushing to the back of her mind any thought that showbiz reporting was beneath her, rang the doorbell. There was a few minutes before a short, dumpy figure could be seen through the frosted glass, there was a click then the door swung open.
'Hello?' the short dumpy woman dressed in a fleece which depicted three horses running from or to something looked up at her.
'Hello Mrs Richmond? My name is Sarah Jane Smith, I'm a reporter and I'd like to talk to you about your experience at Andre Bolam's show last night.'
The woman eyed Sarah up suspiciously before beckoning her inside.
Rachel Talbot stepped into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water from the sink, glancing through the window at the party which was now in full swing in the garden. George's brother by the barbecue, her father dancing with one of his younger grandchildren and the birthday girl surrounded by friends but looking more sullen and distant than she had ever seen her. 'To the teenage years...' Rachel toasted herself and took a large gulp of water from the tumbler, emptied it, then rinsed it in the sink before replacing it on the drying rack. The doorbell rang and Rachel smiled, shaking her head. 'Knew you wouldn't be late...and that you'd forget your keys.'
She hurried through the hallway, swung open the front door to be greeted by two solemn looking figures; a man and a woman, in military uniform. 'Mrs Talbot? My name is Brigadier Winifred Bamberra can we come inside?'
Rachel couldn't speak, she could hear some commotion from the garden. 'It..it's my daughters birthday....er, sorry, come in.' She stepped aside and let them both enter, ushering them into the living room. She slumped into the armchair, George's armchair.
Bamberra sat down on the couch, the man just stood in the doorway, silent. 'I'm afraid that a couple of hours ago, George and a small UNIT team were working on a top secret project at a facility not far from here. It's unclear yet exactly what happened, but there was a large explosion....Mrs Talbot, I'm afraid George was killed this afternoon.'
'Rachel! Is that him? We've got the cake rea...' Neil Talbot, George's twin brother paused in the doorway, looked to the soldier, then to Bamberra, and finally to Rachel, understanding. And in that silence, singing could be heard from the garden.
Happy birthday dear Anna....Happy birthday to you.
2012
George Talbot is lying in a field, he doesn't remember how he got there and also doesn't remember the last time he had such a splitting headache. He rises now so that he's on his knees, looks up at the blue sky above and smiles. George is on his feet now, turns around to see lights dancing in front of him, crackling like electricity, expanding and contracting. And then he remembers what happened, and wonders where everybody went.
1829
The Doctor had already plotted in the coordinates for UNIT H.Q in 2012 by the time Anna had put down the phone. The time rotor began moving up and down to indicate the TARDIS was in flight. He moved round the console to stand next to her, placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. They stood in the console room in silence.
*
Brigadier Harchester was looking over the files in front of him, he had to admit it was perplexing. George Talbot, a decorated UNIT officer, known for operating above and beyond the call of duty to ensure his men got home safely, was killed in a devastating explosion during top secret tests. Top secret tests that Harchester himself knew nothing about. Then, four hours ago, a UNIT team had stumbled upon some strange energy readings, and found George Talbot, not a minute older from when he was supposedly killed, right in the middle of them.
The phonecall to Anna had been difficult, she had become a trusted and valued colleague since joining his division a couple of years previously. In the months between the Masters black hole device and the Doctor's reappearance, the two had become good friends outside of work, visiting Sir Alistair once a month.
An alarm sounded from his computer, stirring Harchester out of his thoughts. It was an alarm that Sir Alistair had passed on to him, one UNIT had developed at the former Brigadier's request. Whenever one of the tracking stations picked up a particular set of readings it would sound, informing the owner that the Doctor was once again on the planet. It wasn't so that a UNIT team could go and pick him up and employ his services, Lethbridge-Stewart just found it comforting to know his old friend was still around. Harchester consulted the monitor to check the Doctor's whereabouts, he wouldn't have to travel far, it appeared that the TARDIS had arrived on the street below.
*
'No, I'm just pulling up now....' she replied, taking her keys out of the ignition and reaching for her notepad. '...I'm just not entirely sure this is my sort of article.' She opened the door and stepped out on to the quiet suburban street, unusually quiet for such a pleasant Sunday afternoon. They were probably all out enjoying the sunshine. 'Oh I know, it's the way of modern journalism....celebrities sell...and if you think it'll be my sort of thing.' Walking up the street, she was checking the doors for number 32, right in front of her, good. 'Okay I'm here now, goodbye!' She pushed the red button and ended the call, taking a deep breath, and pushing to the back of her mind any thought that showbiz reporting was beneath her, rang the doorbell. There was a few minutes before a short, dumpy figure could be seen through the frosted glass, there was a click then the door swung open.
'Hello?' the short dumpy woman dressed in a fleece which depicted three horses running from or to something looked up at her.
'Hello Mrs Richmond? My name is Sarah Jane Smith, I'm a reporter and I'd like to talk to you about your experience at Andre Bolam's show last night.'
The woman eyed Sarah up suspiciously before beckoning her inside.
