Whispers Across Time

Chapter 1: The Blue Box

As Cline and I were leading the team through the wreckage of one of our old cities, we chanced upon a large blue box; almost immediately upon sight of the said box, my head began to ache, feeling as though it was splitting open. I groaned and clutched at it, dropping to my knees on the ground. Clive immediately stopped the two other men and rushed to my side.

"Are you all right, Whisper?" he asked me frantically, and I forced myself to nod through the pain; it wouldn't do for him to know that I was in excruciating pain and doubted that I would manage to make it through this particular headache.

All of a sudden, a man and two women stepped out from the blue box, despite the fact that it appeared to be rather small, and my headache disappeared; I stood, my gun pointed at the newcomers as we slowly stalked forwards.

"Why would the TARDIS bring us here, then?" the man asked, stroking the box.

"Oh, I love this bit," the black woman said, and I cocked my gun, aiming at the man; he appeared to be the one with all of the knowledge.

"I thought you wanted to go home," the red-haired woman replied, frowning.

"I know, but all the same, it's that feeling you get," the black woman said in reply, and I stepped forward a step or two, the others surrounding me in their usual protective formation.

"Like you swallowed a hamster?" the red-haired woman suggested just as my foot lost traction and skidded across the gravel, producing a loud scraping noise.

The three jumped, swinging their heads upwards to search for the origin of the sound, and Cline rushed forward, just in case these strangers meant harm to us.

"Don't move! Stay where you are! Drop your weapons," he ordered, gesturing for them to drop the weapons I did not see on the ground with his gun, and I giggled softly, earning myself a glare from Cline, as well as the other two, whose names I didn't remember.

The three raised their hands above their heads and I stepped forwards, blowing a strand of my auburn hair out of my eyes.

"We're unarmed. Look, no weapons. Never any weapons. We're safe," the man said, and I examined all three of them thoroughly, using my talent for noticing tiny details to help me.

"Look at their hands. They're clean," one of the soldiers beside me remarked, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Interesting. All right, process them. Him first," I said firmly, pointing to the brown-haired man, who frowned at me as I turned to face Cline.

"Whisper?" he asked, and I turned back to face him.

"Sorry, do I know you?" I asked, frowning at him; he didn't look familiar to me, and my name isn't that common, so how did he know it?

"Oh," the man said, looking disappointed as the two soldiers jogged over and grabbed him. "Never mind."

Cline looked at me curiously, and I shrugged. "No clue who he is," I said just as the man began to shout.

"Oi, oi. What's wrong with clean hands?" he demanded, and I chuckled.

"Nothing; that just means you haven't been processed yet. It's all right, no worries," I explained, taking note of the strange disappointment that lingered in the man's brown eyes.

"What's going on?" the black woman asked, looking at the four of us, and I smirked.

"You're being processed," I replied, my smirk tugging the corner of my lip upwards to reveal my perfectly white teeth. "Didn't you hear me say that?"

The man was led over to the machine and his right arm was thrust inside by the soldiers.

"Leave him alone!" the red-haired woman exclaimed, and my smirk widened.

"Something tells me this isn't about to check my blood pressure," the man remarked, and I chuckled.

"You are correct," I said just as the man cried out in pain as the process began.

"Argh!"

"What are you doing to him?" the red-haired woman asked, clearly concerned about her companion, and I decided right then to take mercy on her.

"Everyone is processed when they first arrive," I explained. "It's just a part of our culture."

"It's taken a tissue sample. Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow. And extrapolated it. Some kind of accelerator?" the man mumbled, and I grinned widely.

"Correct," I said, and the machine released the man, "once again."

"Are you all right?" the black woman asked, and I rolled my eyes.

"He'll be fine. Being processed doesn't kill you," I said, scoffing, and Cline nudged my shoulder with his as a way to tell me to be nice.

"What on earth?" the man mused as he looked at the back of his hand, which now held a familiar looking cut; it wasn't shaped like the other cuts, but it was so, so, so familiar. "That's just -"

The glass doors swung open, cutting off the man's musing, and a new girl was revealed. She was rather pretty, with long blonde hair pulled up into a ponytail and blue eyes, and I smiled at her; she was dressed just like I was, and I could just tell that she and I would get along brilliantly.

"Welcome, newbie," I said, offering her a hand to help her down the steps. "Arm yourself."

Cline handed her a gun, and she accepted it gracefully, grinning at me.

"Where did she come from?" the black-woman asked, and I smirked, rolling my eyes.

"From me," the man replied.

"From you? How? Who is she?" the red-haired woman demanded, and I chuckled as the blonde finished checking over her gun, making sure it was ready for use.

"Well, she's, well, she's my daughter," the man stammered, and the girl looked up, grinning at the man.

"Hello, Dad."