Right, and so it begins: The Adventures of the Thirteenth Doctor! Erm, that's all I can say without giving too much away. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who. Now stop thinking I do before I shoot you.
The chill wind soared softly in and out of one of nature's greatest and most intricate creations, a mighty mountain range. Heather and gorse shook gently, buffeted by the unheeding breeze, but also, slowly but surely, by a newer, stronger gale, one that seemed to whip in from all directions, powerfully blasting the lonely mountainside with strange and peculiar forces. These forces were accompanied by a powerful noise, one that seemed to resonate with the mighty mountains in terms of the sense of sheer age that the noise seemed to call with. Then, with a mighty roar, the form of a tall, blue, angular box coalesced amongst the green and purple mountainside. The soft whispers of the wind continued as the battered, aged box stood, sentinel- like and silent, on the outcropping some way below the snow- covered peak of the mountain. Then, with a slow and doom- laden inevitability, the box teetered, rocked, and finally toppled over the edge, falling, twisting, diving, into the abyss below, striking and bouncing from the cold, unforgiving surface, smashing fragments of rock away into space. Finally, the box rolled to a halt in the foothills of the range, globules of mud thrown up, splattering the words on the top of the object: POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX.
Nothing stirred, inside or outside. That said, the box's single inhabitant had been in no fit state to respond when the materialisation had first been made on the pitted mountainside…
Silence reigned in the glen.
Dr. Maglect looked up as the doors to his office were pushed open and a fine pair of military boots entered. Attached to these boots was a tall, imposing, gleaming figure of a military commander. The gleam came from a row of impressive medals attached to his broad chest as he stood to attention, glaring impassively at the air above Dr. Maglect's seated form. The doctor pointedly ignored him and continued seeing to his paperwork. This situation continued for a few seconds, before the soldier realised that the doctor wasn't likely to respond any time soon. The soldier gave a sharp cough. Maglect made a small but vicious mark with his pen on the paper, and, after a second, looked up.
"If you aren't here to tell me the blessed news that UNIT is withdrawing its troops here, then get out," he said.
The military figure took two steps forward. "Now, look here, doctor. For reasons that you know full well, a highly trained security force is needed at the complex here while the event is going on, and UNIT is it."
Maglect scratched at his moustache and stood up; he barely reached the soldier's chin. "Colonel Bardon, I have made no secret of the fact that I do not welcome the military presence here," He began. Folding his arms, he continued through gritted teeth; "However, I am willing to put up with you, to a certain extent. That extent does not cover you barging in here every five minutes with your petty complaints or stupid status reports." He sighed. "Which is it this time?"
Colonel Bardon frowned. "I cannot put up with your dismissal of the guards outside of the stasis chamber-"
"Right, it's a petty complaint. Bardon, I-"
It was Maglect's turn to be interrupted, by a bleeping noise emitting from the vicinity of Bardon's wrist. The Colonel lifted his watch to his ear. "Excuse me, doctor, I must take this. Rant at me later." He pressed a button on the watch. "Foxhound one here."
A tinny voice came from the communicator. "Dhole Two, here, sir. Are you alone?"
Bardon hesitated, then said, "No, I'm with Dr. Maglect. What's the matter?"
The voice continued: "It's imperative you hear this, sir. Priority One."
Bardon looked up and stared into the middle distance for a second or two, then: "I'm sorry, doctor, we'll have to continue this discussion at a later date." He wheeled about and had left before Maglect had even begun to shout:
"But that's what I was just saying!"
Once outside in the corridor, away from any doors, Bardon lifted the watch-communicator to his ear again. "All right, Ceylon. What's happened?"
The voice of his second in command, cultured but excitable, with a hint of an Indian accent, replied, "We've found something in the foothills, near the base of Ben Nevis. Codeword: Splendid Chap."
The breath caught in Colonel Bardon's throat for a moment, then he spoke: "All right, Captain, e-mail me the details and I'll be there immediately. Foxhound One out." The Colonel stood in silence, breathing heavily, staring at the far wall, before a distinct smile spread across his clean- shaven face. Finally, he whispered to himself: "The Doctor…"
The blue box lay, like a felled tree, on the uneven surface of Glen Nevis. Three soldiers stood by it, one staring into the distance away from the object. The other two stood nearer to the fallen Police Box, staring at it. One tilted his head on one side, scrutinising the strange apparition. Finally he broke the silence.
"So… what is it?" he asked.
The other snorted derisively. "Do you know anything about UNIT? I mean, at all?" he asked. "Or did you just fall accidentally through the window of UNIT HQ?" He scratched irritably at his black hair, sneering at his fairer companion. "What you are looking at, my dear Dolbé, is…" he paused for maximum effect. "…the TARDIS."
Dolbé slowly turned to look at his fellow trooper. "So, for those of us that don't spent their entire free time trawling through old UNIT records… what is the TARDIS?"
The other soldier shifted his gun to a more comfortable position on his shoulder. "Well, have you at least heard of... the Doctor?"
"Vaguely…," began Dolbé, but he was interrupted by the arrival of Colonel Bardon, who was accompanied by a female in a UNIT uniform, which bore sergeant's stripes on the sleeve.
"Colonel," acknowledged the third figure, coming to attention.
"Captain Ceylon," replied Bardon, briskly saluting his aide. He stared over Ceylon's shoulder. "So… this is it."
"This is it, Colonel," replied Ceylon with a shrug.
"Who found it?"
"These two men, Colonel," replied the Captain, gesturing to the two UNIT troopers behind him. "Private Ashworth and Private Dolbé. It looks as if it has fallen from a great height, perhaps even most of the height of the mountain."
"Yes, Ceylon, I can see that, replied Bardon, striding forward to stand by Ashworth and Dolbé, both of whom saluted him. "Sergeant Drayle," he called over his shoulder to the woman who had accompanied him from his jeep. Drayle stepped forward, bowed by the weight of a large, solid- looking metal box, followed by Ceylon, both soldiers moving to complete the group next to the object.
"Is this it, sir?" asked Ashworth eagerly. "Is it… the TARDIS?"
Bardon sighed heavily, withdrawing his hands from the pockets of his heavy military greatcoat. "Yes… yes, I think it might be, erm, er… Private…"
"Ashworth, sir," supplied Ashworth earnestly, eliciting an exasperated look skywards from Dolbé.
But Bardon had already turned away, stepping forward into the ankle- high gorse, taking the heavy box from Drayle, balancing it on the knee of the leg propped on the top of the Police Box, while he took a key on a chain from around his neck and slowly unlocked the box, to unleash… another key. He gently lay the box amongst the vegetation, then, twirling the key about amongst his fingers, he leant forward and slowly unlocked the TARDIS doors, which were fortunately on the side facing upwards. The key slid into the lock, fitting perfectly, causing smiles of triumph from Bardon, Ashworth and Ceylon, smiles that were quickly wiped when the doors failed to fall inwards. Bardon attempted turning it three times, after which he withdrew it from the lock.
"Double- locked," he murmured grimly, tossing the key up into the air and catching it again. "Which would suggest…" he stared around at the peaceful, heavenly Glen, caught in a natural bowl, with mountains on all sides, the majesty of Ben Nevis soaring above it all. "He's out there somewhere."
"The Doctor?" asked Ashworth breathlessly. Bardon slowly nodded, causing Ashworth to punch the air, provoking a slap around the head from Dolbé. As a light- hearted punching match erupted behind him, Bardon strode off towards the jeep, Ceylon and Drayle hurrying in his wake.
"If the craft is in this state, maybe he's injured," suggested Ceylon, his accented tones coinciding with the identical thought in Bardon's mind.
"Good point, Captain," replied Bardon. "Have all free personnel have a look around for anyone matching any of the known descriptions. Drayle, have someone look around the hospitals for any… unusual cases or patients."
Drayle thought for a second. "Jenny's off- duty, sir."
"Yes, good idea," retorted Bardon. "Give Donague something to do, the poor girl's been bored out of her industrial strength, odour- combating socks."
"On it, sir," replied Sergeant Drayle, biting back a smile as she turned away, speaking into her wrist- communicator.
Bardon started to march once again to the jeep, commenting to Ceylon as he went, "Heaven knows we could use the Doctor with this one…"
The three figures stood around the stasis chamber, looking at the coffin- like shape, inside which lay a perfectly preserved block of ice, its temperature kept regulated by at least five different monitors. Through the transparent plastic, behind the murky distortion of the ice, an indistinct shape lay.
Dr. Maglect folded his arms and looked at the two figures on the other side of the chamber. "UNIT's presence here could ruin everything," he said, his smooth voice echoing around the cold, empty, grey chamber.
Professor Quintus shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his lab coat. "Well, steady on, old chap," he said, tilting his head back and looking down his nose at Maglect. "They are here for our own safety and security and etcetera, you know." He turned to the woman standing next to him. "What say you, old thing?"
Doctor McStevens scratched her nose. "The Doctor has a point. The last impression we want our guest to get is to wake up surrounded by brutish idiots with guns," she said, pausing to look at Maglect. "That was what you meant, wasn't it?"
Maglect frowned. "Amongst other things…" He shifted his weight from foot to foot. "UNIT seems to think that every new scientific discovery is their domain. We have power at our fingertips- our names could go down in history- and UNIT seeks to take that away from us!" He emphasised his point by smacking his fist into the open palm of his hand. Quintus and McStevens exchanged a look of slight worry; neither had ever seen Dr. Maglect this emotive about anything, or had indeed ever seen him emotive at all.
Jenny Donague strolled into the Accident and Emergency ward of Belford Hospital, taking in everything around her as a male nurse scurried in her wake.
"Erm- look- I'm not sure you should just barge in here like this, disturbing all our patients," the nurse bleated. Jenny rounded on him.
"I showed you my I.D, didn't I? Did I not impress upon you the importance of my mission?" She raised both eyebrows. The nurse cringed and took a step backwards, wringing his hands together. Jenny's expression softened. "Look, I won't be here for long. So, which is the guy you took in earlier?"
"Bed six," replied the orderly, pointing to the bed in question. Jenny moved towards bed six, the nurse looking anxiously after her.
The young woman reached the end of bed six and stuck her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket. In the bed sat a man, propped up against his pillows, dressed in hospital pyjamas. Jenny took in his tall but broad frame, his short, tousled brown hair, and the pair of intense, deep, brown eyes, which were staring keenly at his long, bony hands. He paused, becoming aware of the slim, anxious- looking young woman with dirty- blonde hair at the foot of his bed. Slowly he raised his wild, staring hazel eyes to meet her green ones.
"You're looking for someone," he said unblinkingly. It wasn't a question. Jenny got the impression that he was trying to see right into the core of her soul. She shook herself. The man went on, in his calm, English accent. "Are you looking for me?"
Jenny turned her face slightly away, but without breaking eye contact, looking at him curiously. "I don't know. Who are you?" she asked.
The man blinked at last, looking down in no small amount of confusion. "I… don't know…"
The nurse came up behind Jenny. "Is he the man you're looking for?"
"I'm not sure," Jenny replied, still staring through narrowed eyes at the mysterious patient.
"A pity," said the nurse. "We were hoping someone might be able to shed a bit of light on him. He was found by some ramblers near Càrn Mòr Dearg."
"Any possessions?" Jenny asked. The nurse hesitated. "I have full authority," Jenny reminded him.
The young orderly relaxed slightly. "Only the clothes he stood up in, really." He moved over to the centre of the ward, from where he collected a squashed plastic bag, which he brought back over to Jenny. The young UNIT member laid the bag on an unused bedside table nearby, and took out an assortment of stained and damaged clothing, including: a pair of ripped black trousers; a pair of battered boots, one torn right down its length; a filthy shirt with old- fashioned threadbare frills; and a green waistcoat, now practically shredded.
Weird outfit to go rambling in, thought Jenny. Weird outfit to do anything in.
Last to come out was a tough- looking blue hat. Jenny knew some fashion- wise people who would have been visibly repulsed by this hat. She held it up to the light, noting the slightly scorched rounded holes in the sides. As she stared at it, she noticed that the strange man's gaze was fixed on her once again, staring intently in her direction, a slight frown twitching at his eye. He opened his mouth, exhaling as he visibly thought, clearly disturbed by something. Finally his mouth moved.
"Hat," he said, and fainted.
Civilian eyes followed Colonel Bardon and Captain Ceylon as they strode down the high street of Fort William. They stepped through the door of a restaurant, Bardon feeling the gaze of the passers- by on his uniformed back. He was well aware that many of the town's occupants were distinctly unhappy with the military presence in the Glen, disrupting the usual steady flow of tourists to the area. Still, at least his men were making up some of the lost income with the small fortune they spent in the pub, the Colonel thought. He'd have to have words with Sergeant Drayle about that, but in the meantime it was amusing watching the Sergeant easily beat any three of her men in a drinking contest. Fighting spirit, he thought to himself. That's what they've got, and plenty of it.
"There she is," said Ceylon, winding his way through the small maze of tables to where Jenny was sitting, gently shaking salt over a steak pie.
"Well, Donague?" asked Bardon, pulling up a chair.
Jenny momentarily paused, an expression of indecision on her face which did not fill the Colonel with confidence. "Well, sir… there's an amnesiac in Belford Hospital… he was found wandering around the foothills, dressed eccentrically-"
"Is it him?" interrupted the young Captain, leaning forward eagerly.
Jenny scratched her ear. "I really don't know, sir. Like I said, he's lost his memory- the file on him you gave me won't really help here. It might be the Doctor- it might be some escaped lunatic."
"All right," said Bardon, leaning forward. "Captain, don't call off the search just yet." He checked over both shoulders, then lowered his voice; the others leaned forward conspiratorially. "It is imperative we find him. If there's a time when I'd like the legendary Doctor covering my back… it's when we're mere days away from thawing out… an Ice Warrior."
If you review, I'll post the next chapter soon. If you don't... I'll post it anyway. But still feel free to review!
