Post by Oldmankrondas on Jul 6, 2011 9:55:02 GMT
The Doctor was being led out the conference room and down a long chrome lined corridor adorned with posters bearing various different motivational slogans in different alien languages. Eventually he reached a door which his centuries of experience led him to believe would open out on to a prison cell, soon enough he was proved right. 'You can wait here and consider our offer.' the Margatian grunted, clearly still irritated by the Doctor's previous mention of the Ogrons and Judoon.
Stepping inside, he saw Sarah leap to her feet. 'Oh this is ludicrous! I didn't fall for the last two I'm hardly going to fall for this one. You might as well just kill me....' Sarah looked at him, and just like back at the theatre, she suddenly knew. 'Oh Doctor!' She ran forward and hugged him. 'I thought you'd died.'
'Died? Come now Sarah you know me a lot better than that.' the door behind them slammed shut, the Doctor waited a few minutes. 'Okay, now tell me everything you remember from those projections, I'm slightly concerned we're running out of time.'
The two old friends sat down on one of the beds and Sarah told him of the projections of his past selves, the TARDIS and the golden light. 'Golden light? Probably an energy field or something similar, but what's it for?' He thought back to the Consultants, a group of aliens each with a different set of skills. Who had been there? There was Klarvell, the psychic, he was responsible for the projections of course, who else was there? Then another thought struck him; George Talbots accident. The golden light that supposedly caused the explosion, a coincidence? He couldn't be sure until he knew exactly what George and his secret colleagues had been constructing. And from this cell he wasn't going to find out any time soon, he reached into his pocket to see if the sonic screwdriver was there, it had gone. He glanced at his watch, 10pm, in just under 12 hours, the Consultants grand plan would be in full swing.
Andre Bolam scratched the stubble under his chin and looked into his own bleary eyes in the dressing room mirror. The tour had taken it out of him, projecting those ghosts every night was exhausting and really starting to take its toll. He glanced over to the mini bar and saw the bottle of vodka sitting there, so inviting, much as it had been in those dark days after the missing child.
'I wouldn't do that if I were you Andre.' came a voice from behind him. The same hissing voice that was often in his head. He turned to face a bald man, with greyish skin sharply dressed in a suit and tie, grinning a shark like grin. 'I thought it was time we met in person.' he drawled, walking over to the minibar and lifting the vodka bottle, pouring the contents down the sink. 'Give you some moral support for the press conference.'
'Thank you.' Bolam stammered, lifting his suit jacket from the back of his chair. 'Are we on?'
The bald man in the suit nodded, and indicated for Andre to follow him.
'Tomorrow morning, in Hyde Park and live on televisions across the World I will bring you face to face with the departed. Use this opportunity to say the goodbyes you never could, tell them the things you never did when they were alive, tell them how much you love them one last time.' Bolam paused to sip some water and look into each and every camera. 'Or better yet, embrace them. Hold the person you lost one last time.' He stood up, raising his hands, looking at the throng of reporters. 'Feel their arms around you once more, reassured, loved, reunited. I give you this gift, as apology for the great heartache I caused. Thank you for your time.' Bolams shoulders suddenly slumped, his body becoming a lot looser, less confident in his body language he shuffled off stage to a chorus of reporters dying to ask questions about tomorrows 'miracle.' Bolam's PR man informed them that he would not be answering any questions and would let tomorrow morning speak for itself. He thanked everyone for coming, then picked up Bolam's speech from the table, glancing over it. It was blank, every page was blank, the entire speech must have just come from the top of his head.
George Talbot couldn't breathe, it was starting to become all too much. So much had changed in 13 years, and yet to him it felt like he'd been away for 13 seconds. He stood at the entrance of the tube station and watched the drunken revellers coming into Camden for a Friday night out, some things, he thought, never change. He sighed, thinking back to the way Anna had looked at him all day, as if he wasn't really her father, as if he was, as the Doctor suggested, a psychic projection from a lunatic stage medium. The fact he couldn't eat or drink on UNIT medics orders hadn't helped matters, how suspicious must that have looked? He sighed again, then turned on his heel, he'd left his daughter behind 13 years ago and wasn't about to do it again anytime soon. He hurried back towards the Hawley Arms.
Brigadier Harchester slid his mobile phone back into his pocket and shook his head. 'No sightings as yet, but they'll keep us posted.'
Anna nodded, sitting on the front step of the pub, head in her hands. How could she have been so suspicious of her own father? Of course it was him, perhaps he'd fallen through a crack in time like the Cybermen had done before crashing in 19th century Edinburgh? There was no way he was one of Bolam's projections. 'I really started to believe he was some sort of alien trap.'
Harchester placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. 'Hazards of the job I'm afraid, but I'm sure whatever happened to bring your father here is easily explained.' Harchesters phone started ringing, he produced it checked the Caller I.D; UNIT. He answered. 'Brigadier Harchester. Of course that isn't a problem man. Oh I see....and how long has that been now? Interesting. Send a team to check, thank you.' He placed the phone back in his pocket.
'Problems?'
'Yes, the Doctor and Miss Smith went to take a look at Andre Bolam's stage for tomorrows event. They haven't been seen since they passed the UNIT guards on the gate.'
'Perhaps they went out another exit?'
Harchester shook his head. 'The young private noticed Miss Smiths car is still parked on the road outside. I've sent a patrol to go and check out the stage, it looks like the Doctor was right after all, this Andre Bolam really is a man worth looking into.'
'YES!' the Doctor suddenly cried out, startling Sarah who had started nodding off.
'What?'
'At the conference table, I was wracking my brain trying to think what creatures were all there. Too much stuff in this brain! Anyway, there was a Clavicarius!'
'Which is?'
'Not their native name, but the one given to them by the Earth scientist that discovered them out there in the solar system. Latin for locksmith, so called because they can open portals to other worlds. So the Consultants are probably using the psychic projections to draw people into the portal, but the real question is where does it open out onto?' He suddenly had a very grave look on his face.
'What's wrong Doctor?'
'Think about it; reuniting humanity with its dead? I'm pretty sure that I'm not going to like where that portal leads to.'
Stepping inside, he saw Sarah leap to her feet. 'Oh this is ludicrous! I didn't fall for the last two I'm hardly going to fall for this one. You might as well just kill me....' Sarah looked at him, and just like back at the theatre, she suddenly knew. 'Oh Doctor!' She ran forward and hugged him. 'I thought you'd died.'
'Died? Come now Sarah you know me a lot better than that.' the door behind them slammed shut, the Doctor waited a few minutes. 'Okay, now tell me everything you remember from those projections, I'm slightly concerned we're running out of time.'
The two old friends sat down on one of the beds and Sarah told him of the projections of his past selves, the TARDIS and the golden light. 'Golden light? Probably an energy field or something similar, but what's it for?' He thought back to the Consultants, a group of aliens each with a different set of skills. Who had been there? There was Klarvell, the psychic, he was responsible for the projections of course, who else was there? Then another thought struck him; George Talbots accident. The golden light that supposedly caused the explosion, a coincidence? He couldn't be sure until he knew exactly what George and his secret colleagues had been constructing. And from this cell he wasn't going to find out any time soon, he reached into his pocket to see if the sonic screwdriver was there, it had gone. He glanced at his watch, 10pm, in just under 12 hours, the Consultants grand plan would be in full swing.
*
Andre Bolam scratched the stubble under his chin and looked into his own bleary eyes in the dressing room mirror. The tour had taken it out of him, projecting those ghosts every night was exhausting and really starting to take its toll. He glanced over to the mini bar and saw the bottle of vodka sitting there, so inviting, much as it had been in those dark days after the missing child.
'I wouldn't do that if I were you Andre.' came a voice from behind him. The same hissing voice that was often in his head. He turned to face a bald man, with greyish skin sharply dressed in a suit and tie, grinning a shark like grin. 'I thought it was time we met in person.' he drawled, walking over to the minibar and lifting the vodka bottle, pouring the contents down the sink. 'Give you some moral support for the press conference.'
'Thank you.' Bolam stammered, lifting his suit jacket from the back of his chair. 'Are we on?'
The bald man in the suit nodded, and indicated for Andre to follow him.
*
'Tomorrow morning, in Hyde Park and live on televisions across the World I will bring you face to face with the departed. Use this opportunity to say the goodbyes you never could, tell them the things you never did when they were alive, tell them how much you love them one last time.' Bolam paused to sip some water and look into each and every camera. 'Or better yet, embrace them. Hold the person you lost one last time.' He stood up, raising his hands, looking at the throng of reporters. 'Feel their arms around you once more, reassured, loved, reunited. I give you this gift, as apology for the great heartache I caused. Thank you for your time.' Bolams shoulders suddenly slumped, his body becoming a lot looser, less confident in his body language he shuffled off stage to a chorus of reporters dying to ask questions about tomorrows 'miracle.' Bolam's PR man informed them that he would not be answering any questions and would let tomorrow morning speak for itself. He thanked everyone for coming, then picked up Bolam's speech from the table, glancing over it. It was blank, every page was blank, the entire speech must have just come from the top of his head.
*
George Talbot couldn't breathe, it was starting to become all too much. So much had changed in 13 years, and yet to him it felt like he'd been away for 13 seconds. He stood at the entrance of the tube station and watched the drunken revellers coming into Camden for a Friday night out, some things, he thought, never change. He sighed, thinking back to the way Anna had looked at him all day, as if he wasn't really her father, as if he was, as the Doctor suggested, a psychic projection from a lunatic stage medium. The fact he couldn't eat or drink on UNIT medics orders hadn't helped matters, how suspicious must that have looked? He sighed again, then turned on his heel, he'd left his daughter behind 13 years ago and wasn't about to do it again anytime soon. He hurried back towards the Hawley Arms.
*
Brigadier Harchester slid his mobile phone back into his pocket and shook his head. 'No sightings as yet, but they'll keep us posted.'
Anna nodded, sitting on the front step of the pub, head in her hands. How could she have been so suspicious of her own father? Of course it was him, perhaps he'd fallen through a crack in time like the Cybermen had done before crashing in 19th century Edinburgh? There was no way he was one of Bolam's projections. 'I really started to believe he was some sort of alien trap.'
Harchester placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. 'Hazards of the job I'm afraid, but I'm sure whatever happened to bring your father here is easily explained.' Harchesters phone started ringing, he produced it checked the Caller I.D; UNIT. He answered. 'Brigadier Harchester. Of course that isn't a problem man. Oh I see....and how long has that been now? Interesting. Send a team to check, thank you.' He placed the phone back in his pocket.
'Problems?'
'Yes, the Doctor and Miss Smith went to take a look at Andre Bolam's stage for tomorrows event. They haven't been seen since they passed the UNIT guards on the gate.'
'Perhaps they went out another exit?'
Harchester shook his head. 'The young private noticed Miss Smiths car is still parked on the road outside. I've sent a patrol to go and check out the stage, it looks like the Doctor was right after all, this Andre Bolam really is a man worth looking into.'
*
'YES!' the Doctor suddenly cried out, startling Sarah who had started nodding off.
'What?'
'At the conference table, I was wracking my brain trying to think what creatures were all there. Too much stuff in this brain! Anyway, there was a Clavicarius!'
'Which is?'
'Not their native name, but the one given to them by the Earth scientist that discovered them out there in the solar system. Latin for locksmith, so called because they can open portals to other worlds. So the Consultants are probably using the psychic projections to draw people into the portal, but the real question is where does it open out onto?' He suddenly had a very grave look on his face.
'What's wrong Doctor?'
'Think about it; reuniting humanity with its dead? I'm pretty sure that I'm not going to like where that portal leads to.'
