Post by Fitz Kreiner on Jun 1, 2012 19:21:56 GMT
“That’s Tom,” Lovatt said, staring at the large screen.
The large screen showed a scene from what she assumed to be Duncan’s office. In it, she could see Duncan talking to Tom, the girl she’d seen in HQ and an old man she recognised as the legendary Lethbridge-Stewart. Near to Duncan, stood Sir Daniel Ashfield. The Master was nowhere to be seen on the screen.
The loudspeaker system was relaying everything that was being said in the room, and already the crowds had cottoned on. Their mood was swiftly changing from one of jubilation and joy to one of discontent and anger. What Duncan was saying was enough to worry her. Tom was giving him the rope, and the man was hanging himself, unaware he was talking to the entire nation. She assumed that this was not part of his plan.
“I don’t think so,” Morris said looking at Captain Hodds. “I think, if anything, you should start accepting my orders.”
“I’m still a captain in the Sovereignty Defence and Command Unit,” Hodds replied meekly.
“I think, Captain,” Morris replied, “That that unit is now redundant. You’re witnessing what your role actually is; bodyguard to a wannabe despot.”
“Duncan has taken this whole country for a ride,” Lovatt said, stepping forwards. “This place is gonna get real ugly when the crowds here cotton on to what he’s done. You can hear it’s starting already. You swore a duty to this country, as we all did. It’s our job to protect it, and deal with what’s going to happen here.” She paused to gesture to the crowds, who were already starting to move. “Any time now there could be a stampede, people try to storm the Tower, there could be widespread looting and rioting. We have to stop it, protect the population.”
The sudden and loud explosion of a gunshot caused the soldiers to spin round, their hands immediately on their weapons. Already the crowd was starting to panic.
“That was on the screen,” Loding shouted above the noise, pointing to the screen.
The video screen was showing a hysteria from inside the Tower. Duncan and Ashfield had disappeared, the camera was at an odd angle. A body lay on the floor, two figures crouched over it. Lethbridge-Stewart was stood facing off against a figure with a mottled greenish-orange skin, clearly alien.
“We have to get in there,” Morris shouted to his small group before turning to face Hodds “You have to stay here and deal with the crowd, try to reassure them.”
“Sir,” Hodds replied, saluting, despite sharing the same rank.
The sound of a second gunshot caused the screams of the crowd to rise. There was shouting from the screen and the camera suddenly swung round until Lethbridge-Stewart was centralised on the screen. He coughed slightly before starting to speak.
“Attention Great Britain,” his deep rich voice boomed through the speakers. “This is Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart of the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce. Everyone please pay attention and listen to me. I have temporarily assumed control of the country. James Duncan has betrayed us all and is now a wanted criminal to be captured at all costs. I hereby assume command of all police and military and am placing this country under temporary martial law until the rightful government and head of state can be rightfully restored.
“All UNIT groups are to consider themselves under my orders and attend immediately to the Tower of London. All police and military groups are to attend to the crowds lining the Mall and around the Tower. All crowds are to disperse and return to their homes. We cannot show weakness at this time and any rioters or looters will be arrested forthwith and held for fair trial once this country is restored. I would kindly expect all civilians to maintain a strong resolve and help us to see through this dark time. I hereby invite the Royal Family to return to London and call for the government to call for a public enquiry into their activities over the past weeks.”
“Well, you heard him,” Morris shouted to the assembled troops. “All UNIT troops with me, the rest of you, deal with this crowd.” Turning, Morris led his troops towards the imposing structure of the Tower of London.
Duncan stared in shock at the cameras, all lit with the red broadcast light. How could he have spotted that? Then it dawned on him; Rowan. The man had kept him talking, goaded him, toyed with him, and he’d fallen for it. But it couldn’t have been Rowan on his own. It was then he realised how the Master had stayed to the back of the room, out of sight of the cameras. It had to be him; he had to be the one who had instigated this plan.
“You,” he said softly but firmly staring at the Master, “you did this, didn’t you.”
“Actually, sir,” a female voice came from the office, “it was me.”
“Karen?” Duncan asked, staring in shock at his secretary.
“Sorry, but Karen never existed,” she said. “We knew you for what you were before you did,” she glanced at the Master.
“The two of you,” Duncan snarled.
“Yes,” the Master smiled. “You are not a game player.”
“A game pla-?” Duncan sputtered. “Who the hell are you?” he shouted, glaring at ‘Karen’.
“My name is Andrea Rogers,” Andrea replied, “and I’m proud to have helped in your downfall.”
“Then be proud of this,” Duncan snapped, bringing his hand up. The gunshot echoed around the room, causing everyone to pause in shock before the chaos erupted.
For several seconds nobody moved until Andrea slowly moved her hand to her chest. A crimson stain was spreading on her white blouse. Not waiting to see her fall, Duncan ran round the desk, pushing a camera out of his way, he disappeared from the room.
Tom was by Andrea’s side, catching her as she fell to the floor, Kelly behind him quickly. With a snarl of anger, the Master looked over at Andrea and then ran from the room after Duncan. Kortath reached to his side for his sidearm, stepping towards the doorway. The Brigadier was immediately side stepping to block the Ikthaari’s path, bringing his walking cane up. Watching the chaos, Ashfield slowly stepped around the room, as soon as he reached the door and was out of sight, he ran.
“Get out of my way unless you wish to die here, old man,” Kortath snarled.
“I warn you,” the Brigadier said. “Surrender and get off my world.”
Raising his weapon, Kortath stepped forwards. With a quick motion, surprising for his age, the Brigadier brought his cane up. A small trigger slipped out of the chrome handle, and with quick dexterity he pulled it. The small calibre gun concealed in the walking cane fired, the gunshot was quieter than Duncan’s, but enough to cause an echo and have an effect on the crowds outside.
Kortath stopped and coughed, orange blood trickling from his mouth. He tired for form words as his blood seeped out of the entry and exit hole in his heart. His finger tightened on the trigger of his weapon as he tried to aim it at the Brigadier. Wavering, he dropped to his knees, his vision blurring. The strength left his arm as he struggled to aim. As blackness enveloped him, he fell feebly to the floor.
“Well,” the Brigadier said, resting on his cane again, “that’s the end of that fellow.”
“Brigadier,” Tom shouted from where he was crouched. “You have to address the nation, let them know what’s happening.”
“I beg your pardon?” the Brigadier asked.
“Put more pressure here,” Tom instructed Kelly, pulling his pullover off and pressing it against the wound in Andrea’s chest. “We’re gonna have to wait ‘til Morris and his troops get here and we can get her to hospital.”
“I don’t know what to do though,” Kelly said.
“Keep pressure on the wound and keep her talking,” Tom said, looking down to Andrea. “You hear me? You’ve got to stay awake; keep fighting in Andrea.”
“I’ll try,” she managed painfully, before crying out slightly as Kelly put pressure on the bullet wound.
Getting to his feet, Tom grabbed the nearest camera. It was still broadcasting. “You have to address Britain,” Tom said. “They’ve just seen everything going on here. There’s gonna be panic and anger. We might be facing nation-wide riots. Duncan has led us all up the garden path. People are gonna be pissed off. We need someone to control it all.”
“I don’t think I’m cut out for that,” the Brigadier replied.
“It doesn’t matter,” Tom pressed, “you’re a legend in UNIT, you’ve seen Earth through bigger troubles. It only needs to be until the status quo is restored.”
“Very well,” the Brigadier said, standing uncomfortably before clearing his throat.
Tom rounded the camera on him before sticking his thumb up and turning and running out of the room after the Master and Duncan.
“Attention Great Britain,” the Brigadier began pulling himself to his full height. “This is Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart of the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce.”
James Duncan slammed the doors to his private chambers behind him and locked them. The heavy locks clunked into place and he ran to a large mahogany desk. Activating a hidden button on the underside of it, the fake panelled wall lifted back revealing the technical array he had used to contact the Ikthaari hidden behind.
“Report,” the mechanical voice said.
“It’s all gone wrong,” he panted. “They’ve ruined me, everyone is against me now, I’ll be a wanted criminal.”
“You have failed,” the voice replied. Duncan wasn’t sure whether it was a statement or question. “We have given you this position and gave you contact with the Ikthaari to bring them to Earth. Your chance to control this world has been aborted.”
Duncan thought fast. He had no idea what would happen if he failed, he had never thought of that eventuality. His new Britain, his new empire, his new Earth was crashing down around his ears thanks to the intervention of those two Time Lords. A banging at the door to his chambers made him think faster.
“It was the Time Lords,” Duncan shouted at the machine after glancing over his shoulder. “If you had shared your information of them with me, I could have delivered them to you sooner. We could have neutralised their threat.”
“You have failed,” the machine repeated. “You try to hide your failure behind excuses displaying your weakness. We do not accept failure.”
“No,” Duncan cried, reaching out to the machine. “No! Please, let me have a second chance.”
“Negative,” the reply came.
A strong electric blue bolt crackled out from the machine, connecting with Duncan’s chest, it threw him back against the far wall. Charred, his dead body slid from the wall and fell into an awkward heap on the floor, small sparks of electricity still crackling over his body as the massive electrical charge earthed. Its centre section spinning, the alien machine blurred and then disappeared, dissolving into thin air.
Several seconds later, there was a small explosion at the lock to the door and with a heavy kick; the Master pushed the door open. He rushed into the room shouting Duncan’s name. With a brief glance around the room, he saw Duncan’s body. He dashed over and gave the body a cursory glance. The flesh was charred and his hair almost completely burnt off. His clothes were still smouldering, and there was a large burn across his chest where his suit, shirt and tie had been burnt away. With a one sided smiled, the Master nodded his head as he took in Duncan’s body.
“Well, Mr. Duncan,” the Master said. “It seems as though you were lucky; someone got to you before I did.”
The sound of running feet made the Master turn. Almost running past the doorway, stopping in time by grabbing the doorframe, Tom almost threw himself into the room. He stepped slowly up to the Master, looking at Duncan’s body.
“Was that much really necessary?” he asked, noting the large electrical burns.
“Believe it or not, Mr. Rowan,” the Master said coolly, “but that wasn’t me.”
“Then who-?” Tom began.
“Whom indeed.” The Master mused before turning to Tom and placing a hand on his shoulder. “Korthath?” he asked.
“Taken care of,” Tom replied. “The Brigadier.”
“Ah, good old Lethbridge-Stewart,” the Master smiled. “It seems that all my work is done for me. Now there’s just one more thing.”
Walking round Tom, the Master made his way back the way he had just come. Looking around the room, Tom grabbed the curtain and pulled, pulling it off the rail. Trying not to look at Duncan’s face, Tom draped the curtain over the body before setting off after the Master.
Sir Daniel Ashfield pressed himself flat against the wall behind the door. Peering through the crack by the hinges, he saw a squad of eight soldiers run through. They were all wearing civilian clothing, but he recognised the lead three as the officers who had attended his house when his wife had been killed; UNIT troops.
By now, Ashfield realised, the Tower would be surrounded by soldiers and police. Mind you, it had been before, but now he was a wanted ‘criminal’. He had to escape the Tower somehow. He almost laughed at the prospect, he knew the history of the Tower and how hard it was. Yet it was possible. At least he wasn’t in Colditz, he thought sardonically.
He had to get past the police and army cordon, of that he was certain. At least then he might be able to distance himself from Duncan. He knew it was common knowledge that he was close to Duncan, but he still had the hope that he could claim he knew nothing of what Duncan had been up to. Indeed, he knew that there was much Duncan hadn’t told him. He remembered his shock and repulsion upon first meeting the Ikthaari.
The screams and shouts of the crowd outside were getting closer as he moved through the corridors. He could hear the sound of loudspeakers and sirens. Already the police and army must be trying to clear the crowds. The sudden sound of shouting and gunfire behind him made him start. The UNIT troops must have come up against Korthath’s troops. He must get out of here.
Then it hit him. There was one way he was certain to get out; the sewers. He knew that the old Victorian sewage system ran nearby. It was a way for him to get out. Ok, it wasn’t dignified, but it was a way and he knew how to gain access. Carefully checking his surroundings as he made his way through the Tower, Ashfield made for it.
Within half an hour, Ashfield found himself ankle deep in water as he stood in the curved tunnel of the sewers. Looking around, Ashfield wished he’d got a torch, the only light being a dim yellow glow from a cigarette lighter. Ashfield felt a shiver go through his as he looked around. The flickering yellow light was casting long and sinister shadows which danced. The sound of above had lessened considerably but was faintly audible above the dripping of water.
Ashfield turned and started walking down the tunnel. After a couple of seconds, he paused and looked behind him. Now he realised there was something else he wished he had; a map of the tunnels. A wave of panic washed over him. Attempting to brush it aside, Ashfield decided to continue along his path. A chill breeze blew through the tunnel and the flame on the lighter flickered before blowing out. Ashfield put his thumb of the wheel to light the flame again before drawing his hand back. The top of the lighter was very hot.
With a curse, Duncan realised that he’d dropped it. Crouching, he fished through the dirty water trying to find it. A faint sound behind him made him pause. He was getting paranoid, he must be; no-one knew he was down in the sewers. The sound came again, this time closer. Looking round in the dark, Ashfield looked frantically. The blackness was pitch and he could see nothing, but he could now feel it; a presence. Ashfield could see absolutely nothing but he could feel that he was not alone. The panic came back in a big way.
Trying to move, Ashfield found his legs were like jelly and he fell, face first, into the water. He was just getting back to his feet when he felt something heavy hit him in the back. Trying to move again, he found he couldn’t move at all. The panic was overwhelming now and he found himself starting to hyperventilate. Feeling the knot of anxiety in his heart and stomach, Ashfield started to scream before he knew no more.
Tom walked back into the room where he had left the Brigadier and Kelly. The room was much as it was before, except there were now more people in the room. The Master was crouched over Andrea’s fallen body, cradling her head and saying something to her in a low voice. Tom was relieved to see that she was still alive. Kelly was sat, her head between her knees, with a couple of people sat beside her. She was very pale and clearly upset and shaken.
The Brigadier was sat in Duncan’s chair, his face looking heavy and tired. He was talking on the phone to someone. Tom assumed that he was trying to sort out the country. The look on his face as Tom walked into the room caused him to stop. Only then did he realise the enormity of the task he had landed the old soldier with.
“How’s it going?” he asked, walking up to the desk.
“I’ve got a lot of work to do,” the Brigadier replied. “I’m trying to get hold of the Prime Minister. I’ve already heard from an attaché to the Royal Family. They are going to get the first plane back from Canada.”
“Excellent,” Tom replied. “And what about hi-?” Tom turned to point to the Master, who had disappeared. “No! Damnit!” he cried out heading for the door.
“I’ll put out a call to find him,” the Brigadier called from the desk.
Before he had even made it through the door, Tom collided with Morris.
“Whoa, easy there, Tom,” he said, before noticing the Brigadier and quickly coming to attention and saluting. “Captain William Morris of UNIT, sir, at your command.”
“As you were, Captain,” the Brigadier said.
“Sorry, excuse me,” Tom said, trying to get round Morris. “Have you seen the Master come this way?”
“Sorry, Tom,” Morris replied. “Not seen anyone since we finished mopping up the Ikthaari troops.”
“Damnit!” Tom cried hitting at the wooden door. “That man’s done it again.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll get him,” Loding said, from outside the doorway.
Motioning to the two troops with her, they turned and ran down the corridor.
“What’s the situation here?” Morris said, re-holstering his pistol.
“I’ve temporarily taken control of the country,” the Brigadier said.
“Yes, I saw,” Morris said, shifting uncomfortably.
“I know, I know,” the Brigadier replied. “I don’t like the idea of placing this country under martial law as much as you don’t. But, I have contacted the Royal Family and they are chartering a plane back from Canada as we speak. They will be here in the next twelve hours. I’ve received information that the Prime Minister has acted in ordering an immediate investigation into the cabinet and shadow cabinet and they have repealed all laws and mandates laid down by Duncan.”
“What can I do, sir?” Morris asked.
“Help me man these phones, man,” the Brigadier said with a slight chuckle. “I’m not as spry as I used to be you know.”
“You’re alright, Tom,” Lovatt said, siding up to Tom.
“Yeah, thanks,” Tom replied. “Thanks for everything.”
“No problem,” Lovatt replied, looking round Tom to see a fallen body. “I think I’d best lay on a chopper, get this woman to hospital immediately.
Tom looked round. In the confusion and panic, he had completely forgotten about Andrea Rogers. He moved over to see how she was. The two people tending her had St. John’s Ambulance badges on. He gave them a thumbs-up, and getting one in reply. Moving away, he sat down on the floor beside Kelly.
“You ok?” he asked.
Looking at him with wide eyes, Kelly gripped his arm and laid her head on it before bursting into tears, the emotion finally overwhelming her. Putting his arm around her, Tom took in the sight around him and nodded slowly. It had been a rough few days, but he’d gotten through it; Great Britain had gotten through it.
The large screen showed a scene from what she assumed to be Duncan’s office. In it, she could see Duncan talking to Tom, the girl she’d seen in HQ and an old man she recognised as the legendary Lethbridge-Stewart. Near to Duncan, stood Sir Daniel Ashfield. The Master was nowhere to be seen on the screen.
The loudspeaker system was relaying everything that was being said in the room, and already the crowds had cottoned on. Their mood was swiftly changing from one of jubilation and joy to one of discontent and anger. What Duncan was saying was enough to worry her. Tom was giving him the rope, and the man was hanging himself, unaware he was talking to the entire nation. She assumed that this was not part of his plan.
“I don’t think so,” Morris said looking at Captain Hodds. “I think, if anything, you should start accepting my orders.”
“I’m still a captain in the Sovereignty Defence and Command Unit,” Hodds replied meekly.
“I think, Captain,” Morris replied, “That that unit is now redundant. You’re witnessing what your role actually is; bodyguard to a wannabe despot.”
“Duncan has taken this whole country for a ride,” Lovatt said, stepping forwards. “This place is gonna get real ugly when the crowds here cotton on to what he’s done. You can hear it’s starting already. You swore a duty to this country, as we all did. It’s our job to protect it, and deal with what’s going to happen here.” She paused to gesture to the crowds, who were already starting to move. “Any time now there could be a stampede, people try to storm the Tower, there could be widespread looting and rioting. We have to stop it, protect the population.”
The sudden and loud explosion of a gunshot caused the soldiers to spin round, their hands immediately on their weapons. Already the crowd was starting to panic.
“That was on the screen,” Loding shouted above the noise, pointing to the screen.
The video screen was showing a hysteria from inside the Tower. Duncan and Ashfield had disappeared, the camera was at an odd angle. A body lay on the floor, two figures crouched over it. Lethbridge-Stewart was stood facing off against a figure with a mottled greenish-orange skin, clearly alien.
“We have to get in there,” Morris shouted to his small group before turning to face Hodds “You have to stay here and deal with the crowd, try to reassure them.”
“Sir,” Hodds replied, saluting, despite sharing the same rank.
The sound of a second gunshot caused the screams of the crowd to rise. There was shouting from the screen and the camera suddenly swung round until Lethbridge-Stewart was centralised on the screen. He coughed slightly before starting to speak.
“Attention Great Britain,” his deep rich voice boomed through the speakers. “This is Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart of the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce. Everyone please pay attention and listen to me. I have temporarily assumed control of the country. James Duncan has betrayed us all and is now a wanted criminal to be captured at all costs. I hereby assume command of all police and military and am placing this country under temporary martial law until the rightful government and head of state can be rightfully restored.
“All UNIT groups are to consider themselves under my orders and attend immediately to the Tower of London. All police and military groups are to attend to the crowds lining the Mall and around the Tower. All crowds are to disperse and return to their homes. We cannot show weakness at this time and any rioters or looters will be arrested forthwith and held for fair trial once this country is restored. I would kindly expect all civilians to maintain a strong resolve and help us to see through this dark time. I hereby invite the Royal Family to return to London and call for the government to call for a public enquiry into their activities over the past weeks.”
“Well, you heard him,” Morris shouted to the assembled troops. “All UNIT troops with me, the rest of you, deal with this crowd.” Turning, Morris led his troops towards the imposing structure of the Tower of London.
*
Duncan stared in shock at the cameras, all lit with the red broadcast light. How could he have spotted that? Then it dawned on him; Rowan. The man had kept him talking, goaded him, toyed with him, and he’d fallen for it. But it couldn’t have been Rowan on his own. It was then he realised how the Master had stayed to the back of the room, out of sight of the cameras. It had to be him; he had to be the one who had instigated this plan.
“You,” he said softly but firmly staring at the Master, “you did this, didn’t you.”
“Actually, sir,” a female voice came from the office, “it was me.”
“Karen?” Duncan asked, staring in shock at his secretary.
“Sorry, but Karen never existed,” she said. “We knew you for what you were before you did,” she glanced at the Master.
“The two of you,” Duncan snarled.
“Yes,” the Master smiled. “You are not a game player.”
“A game pla-?” Duncan sputtered. “Who the hell are you?” he shouted, glaring at ‘Karen’.
“My name is Andrea Rogers,” Andrea replied, “and I’m proud to have helped in your downfall.”
“Then be proud of this,” Duncan snapped, bringing his hand up. The gunshot echoed around the room, causing everyone to pause in shock before the chaos erupted.
For several seconds nobody moved until Andrea slowly moved her hand to her chest. A crimson stain was spreading on her white blouse. Not waiting to see her fall, Duncan ran round the desk, pushing a camera out of his way, he disappeared from the room.
Tom was by Andrea’s side, catching her as she fell to the floor, Kelly behind him quickly. With a snarl of anger, the Master looked over at Andrea and then ran from the room after Duncan. Kortath reached to his side for his sidearm, stepping towards the doorway. The Brigadier was immediately side stepping to block the Ikthaari’s path, bringing his walking cane up. Watching the chaos, Ashfield slowly stepped around the room, as soon as he reached the door and was out of sight, he ran.
“Get out of my way unless you wish to die here, old man,” Kortath snarled.
“I warn you,” the Brigadier said. “Surrender and get off my world.”
Raising his weapon, Kortath stepped forwards. With a quick motion, surprising for his age, the Brigadier brought his cane up. A small trigger slipped out of the chrome handle, and with quick dexterity he pulled it. The small calibre gun concealed in the walking cane fired, the gunshot was quieter than Duncan’s, but enough to cause an echo and have an effect on the crowds outside.
Kortath stopped and coughed, orange blood trickling from his mouth. He tired for form words as his blood seeped out of the entry and exit hole in his heart. His finger tightened on the trigger of his weapon as he tried to aim it at the Brigadier. Wavering, he dropped to his knees, his vision blurring. The strength left his arm as he struggled to aim. As blackness enveloped him, he fell feebly to the floor.
“Well,” the Brigadier said, resting on his cane again, “that’s the end of that fellow.”
“Brigadier,” Tom shouted from where he was crouched. “You have to address the nation, let them know what’s happening.”
“I beg your pardon?” the Brigadier asked.
“Put more pressure here,” Tom instructed Kelly, pulling his pullover off and pressing it against the wound in Andrea’s chest. “We’re gonna have to wait ‘til Morris and his troops get here and we can get her to hospital.”
“I don’t know what to do though,” Kelly said.
“Keep pressure on the wound and keep her talking,” Tom said, looking down to Andrea. “You hear me? You’ve got to stay awake; keep fighting in Andrea.”
“I’ll try,” she managed painfully, before crying out slightly as Kelly put pressure on the bullet wound.
Getting to his feet, Tom grabbed the nearest camera. It was still broadcasting. “You have to address Britain,” Tom said. “They’ve just seen everything going on here. There’s gonna be panic and anger. We might be facing nation-wide riots. Duncan has led us all up the garden path. People are gonna be pissed off. We need someone to control it all.”
“I don’t think I’m cut out for that,” the Brigadier replied.
“It doesn’t matter,” Tom pressed, “you’re a legend in UNIT, you’ve seen Earth through bigger troubles. It only needs to be until the status quo is restored.”
“Very well,” the Brigadier said, standing uncomfortably before clearing his throat.
Tom rounded the camera on him before sticking his thumb up and turning and running out of the room after the Master and Duncan.
“Attention Great Britain,” the Brigadier began pulling himself to his full height. “This is Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart of the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce.”
*
James Duncan slammed the doors to his private chambers behind him and locked them. The heavy locks clunked into place and he ran to a large mahogany desk. Activating a hidden button on the underside of it, the fake panelled wall lifted back revealing the technical array he had used to contact the Ikthaari hidden behind.
“Report,” the mechanical voice said.
“It’s all gone wrong,” he panted. “They’ve ruined me, everyone is against me now, I’ll be a wanted criminal.”
“You have failed,” the voice replied. Duncan wasn’t sure whether it was a statement or question. “We have given you this position and gave you contact with the Ikthaari to bring them to Earth. Your chance to control this world has been aborted.”
Duncan thought fast. He had no idea what would happen if he failed, he had never thought of that eventuality. His new Britain, his new empire, his new Earth was crashing down around his ears thanks to the intervention of those two Time Lords. A banging at the door to his chambers made him think faster.
“It was the Time Lords,” Duncan shouted at the machine after glancing over his shoulder. “If you had shared your information of them with me, I could have delivered them to you sooner. We could have neutralised their threat.”
“You have failed,” the machine repeated. “You try to hide your failure behind excuses displaying your weakness. We do not accept failure.”
“No,” Duncan cried, reaching out to the machine. “No! Please, let me have a second chance.”
“Negative,” the reply came.
A strong electric blue bolt crackled out from the machine, connecting with Duncan’s chest, it threw him back against the far wall. Charred, his dead body slid from the wall and fell into an awkward heap on the floor, small sparks of electricity still crackling over his body as the massive electrical charge earthed. Its centre section spinning, the alien machine blurred and then disappeared, dissolving into thin air.
Several seconds later, there was a small explosion at the lock to the door and with a heavy kick; the Master pushed the door open. He rushed into the room shouting Duncan’s name. With a brief glance around the room, he saw Duncan’s body. He dashed over and gave the body a cursory glance. The flesh was charred and his hair almost completely burnt off. His clothes were still smouldering, and there was a large burn across his chest where his suit, shirt and tie had been burnt away. With a one sided smiled, the Master nodded his head as he took in Duncan’s body.
“Well, Mr. Duncan,” the Master said. “It seems as though you were lucky; someone got to you before I did.”
The sound of running feet made the Master turn. Almost running past the doorway, stopping in time by grabbing the doorframe, Tom almost threw himself into the room. He stepped slowly up to the Master, looking at Duncan’s body.
“Was that much really necessary?” he asked, noting the large electrical burns.
“Believe it or not, Mr. Rowan,” the Master said coolly, “but that wasn’t me.”
“Then who-?” Tom began.
“Whom indeed.” The Master mused before turning to Tom and placing a hand on his shoulder. “Korthath?” he asked.
“Taken care of,” Tom replied. “The Brigadier.”
“Ah, good old Lethbridge-Stewart,” the Master smiled. “It seems that all my work is done for me. Now there’s just one more thing.”
Walking round Tom, the Master made his way back the way he had just come. Looking around the room, Tom grabbed the curtain and pulled, pulling it off the rail. Trying not to look at Duncan’s face, Tom draped the curtain over the body before setting off after the Master.
*
Sir Daniel Ashfield pressed himself flat against the wall behind the door. Peering through the crack by the hinges, he saw a squad of eight soldiers run through. They were all wearing civilian clothing, but he recognised the lead three as the officers who had attended his house when his wife had been killed; UNIT troops.
By now, Ashfield realised, the Tower would be surrounded by soldiers and police. Mind you, it had been before, but now he was a wanted ‘criminal’. He had to escape the Tower somehow. He almost laughed at the prospect, he knew the history of the Tower and how hard it was. Yet it was possible. At least he wasn’t in Colditz, he thought sardonically.
He had to get past the police and army cordon, of that he was certain. At least then he might be able to distance himself from Duncan. He knew it was common knowledge that he was close to Duncan, but he still had the hope that he could claim he knew nothing of what Duncan had been up to. Indeed, he knew that there was much Duncan hadn’t told him. He remembered his shock and repulsion upon first meeting the Ikthaari.
The screams and shouts of the crowd outside were getting closer as he moved through the corridors. He could hear the sound of loudspeakers and sirens. Already the police and army must be trying to clear the crowds. The sudden sound of shouting and gunfire behind him made him start. The UNIT troops must have come up against Korthath’s troops. He must get out of here.
Then it hit him. There was one way he was certain to get out; the sewers. He knew that the old Victorian sewage system ran nearby. It was a way for him to get out. Ok, it wasn’t dignified, but it was a way and he knew how to gain access. Carefully checking his surroundings as he made his way through the Tower, Ashfield made for it.
Within half an hour, Ashfield found himself ankle deep in water as he stood in the curved tunnel of the sewers. Looking around, Ashfield wished he’d got a torch, the only light being a dim yellow glow from a cigarette lighter. Ashfield felt a shiver go through his as he looked around. The flickering yellow light was casting long and sinister shadows which danced. The sound of above had lessened considerably but was faintly audible above the dripping of water.
Ashfield turned and started walking down the tunnel. After a couple of seconds, he paused and looked behind him. Now he realised there was something else he wished he had; a map of the tunnels. A wave of panic washed over him. Attempting to brush it aside, Ashfield decided to continue along his path. A chill breeze blew through the tunnel and the flame on the lighter flickered before blowing out. Ashfield put his thumb of the wheel to light the flame again before drawing his hand back. The top of the lighter was very hot.
With a curse, Duncan realised that he’d dropped it. Crouching, he fished through the dirty water trying to find it. A faint sound behind him made him pause. He was getting paranoid, he must be; no-one knew he was down in the sewers. The sound came again, this time closer. Looking round in the dark, Ashfield looked frantically. The blackness was pitch and he could see nothing, but he could now feel it; a presence. Ashfield could see absolutely nothing but he could feel that he was not alone. The panic came back in a big way.
Trying to move, Ashfield found his legs were like jelly and he fell, face first, into the water. He was just getting back to his feet when he felt something heavy hit him in the back. Trying to move again, he found he couldn’t move at all. The panic was overwhelming now and he found himself starting to hyperventilate. Feeling the knot of anxiety in his heart and stomach, Ashfield started to scream before he knew no more.
*
Tom walked back into the room where he had left the Brigadier and Kelly. The room was much as it was before, except there were now more people in the room. The Master was crouched over Andrea’s fallen body, cradling her head and saying something to her in a low voice. Tom was relieved to see that she was still alive. Kelly was sat, her head between her knees, with a couple of people sat beside her. She was very pale and clearly upset and shaken.
The Brigadier was sat in Duncan’s chair, his face looking heavy and tired. He was talking on the phone to someone. Tom assumed that he was trying to sort out the country. The look on his face as Tom walked into the room caused him to stop. Only then did he realise the enormity of the task he had landed the old soldier with.
“How’s it going?” he asked, walking up to the desk.
“I’ve got a lot of work to do,” the Brigadier replied. “I’m trying to get hold of the Prime Minister. I’ve already heard from an attaché to the Royal Family. They are going to get the first plane back from Canada.”
“Excellent,” Tom replied. “And what about hi-?” Tom turned to point to the Master, who had disappeared. “No! Damnit!” he cried out heading for the door.
“I’ll put out a call to find him,” the Brigadier called from the desk.
Before he had even made it through the door, Tom collided with Morris.
“Whoa, easy there, Tom,” he said, before noticing the Brigadier and quickly coming to attention and saluting. “Captain William Morris of UNIT, sir, at your command.”
“As you were, Captain,” the Brigadier said.
“Sorry, excuse me,” Tom said, trying to get round Morris. “Have you seen the Master come this way?”
“Sorry, Tom,” Morris replied. “Not seen anyone since we finished mopping up the Ikthaari troops.”
“Damnit!” Tom cried hitting at the wooden door. “That man’s done it again.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll get him,” Loding said, from outside the doorway.
Motioning to the two troops with her, they turned and ran down the corridor.
“What’s the situation here?” Morris said, re-holstering his pistol.
“I’ve temporarily taken control of the country,” the Brigadier said.
“Yes, I saw,” Morris said, shifting uncomfortably.
“I know, I know,” the Brigadier replied. “I don’t like the idea of placing this country under martial law as much as you don’t. But, I have contacted the Royal Family and they are chartering a plane back from Canada as we speak. They will be here in the next twelve hours. I’ve received information that the Prime Minister has acted in ordering an immediate investigation into the cabinet and shadow cabinet and they have repealed all laws and mandates laid down by Duncan.”
“What can I do, sir?” Morris asked.
“Help me man these phones, man,” the Brigadier said with a slight chuckle. “I’m not as spry as I used to be you know.”
“You’re alright, Tom,” Lovatt said, siding up to Tom.
“Yeah, thanks,” Tom replied. “Thanks for everything.”
“No problem,” Lovatt replied, looking round Tom to see a fallen body. “I think I’d best lay on a chopper, get this woman to hospital immediately.
Tom looked round. In the confusion and panic, he had completely forgotten about Andrea Rogers. He moved over to see how she was. The two people tending her had St. John’s Ambulance badges on. He gave them a thumbs-up, and getting one in reply. Moving away, he sat down on the floor beside Kelly.
“You ok?” he asked.
Looking at him with wide eyes, Kelly gripped his arm and laid her head on it before bursting into tears, the emotion finally overwhelming her. Putting his arm around her, Tom took in the sight around him and nodded slowly. It had been a rough few days, but he’d gotten through it; Great Britain had gotten through it.