Do Not Delete
"Intercept aircraft." The instruction from cyber-control was unequivocal. "Rescue the Master. UNIT personnel and the Doctor to be deleted."
The cyberman's flight, which until now had matched that of the others around him, faltered for a moment as the words from control nudged memories that were supposed to have been wiped. UNIT personnel. Doctor.
He pinged back a message to cyber-control: "Clarify: UNIT personnel."
In nanoseconds, control had sent a stream of information about the people on board – pictures, video from the steps of St Paul's, a string of names and job titles…
The first cybermen had landed on the wings of the plane and were trying to lever the windows out.
"Cyber-unit." Control was insistent, its instructions transmitted faster than the speed of thought. "Close on the aircraft. Delete UNIT personnel."
No. That was… incorrect, that was…
"Close on the aircraft. Delete UNIT personnel."
He reviewed the information that cyber-control had transmitted. Doctor. Master. Cybermen. St Paul's. Invasion.
Lethbridge-Stewart.
He remembered.
Cyber-control persisted, increasing the strength of the data-stream as it detected Alistair's thoughts, and his memories faded in and out as he fought to overcome the programming. He was getting closer to the plane by the second, but now he was wondering if he dared fire on the cybermen on the wings. This was all a bit new: if he missed and hit the aircraft…
"Cyber-unit. Disregard previous. Delete UNIT personnel. Delete the Doctor."
Elderly. Scruffy. Elegant. Curls. Blond. Umbrella…. Eyebrows. Yes. That had to be him, there outside St Paul's, with Kate. And could that woman really be…? His circuits took a moment or two to coil around that. Then again, he thought, I'm actually airborne – without the benefit of an aircraft. So I shouldn't really be surprised if Time Lords can change gender as easily as they change faces. Glad the Doctor didn't try it though. Not while he was with UNIT anyway.
Ahead of him, the aircraft was banking, swaying. Cybermen were smashing the windows, pulling someone out.
This was bad. Kate was going to get hurt if he didn't do something.
More cybermen were closing on the plane, and this time Alistair didn't hesitate to fire at them. His first shot missed, the second was closer, the third – now he'd worked out how – was right on target. He wasn't entirely sure what he was going to do once he got to the plane – it wasn't as though he actually knew how to pilot it, after all – but he couldn't just fly around and do nothing while…
The plane's cargo door blew out, a small blonde figure plummeting out of the plane right behind it.
"Kate!"
He dived after her, pushing his arms against his sides to increase his speed until he was level with her, then matched his velocity to hers. Was she alive? Was she conscious? "Kate." He reached out, grasped her wrist.
Her eyes widened and, as she tried to pull away, Alistair realised that all she saw was his metallic shell.
"It's me, Tiger. Don't ask me how."
She gave a little sob and he felt her relax as he edged closer and put his arms under her shoulders and knees, then began to slow their descent.
Above and to the east, the aeroplane blew apart.
"Doctor!" Kate's voice was barely a whisper, but Alistair knew that she wasn't referring to her own need for medical aid.
"I can't save you both, Kate." Carefully, tentatively, he accessed his cyber-sensors, wary of the connection to cyber-control. But it seemed that he'd fried the circuits that shut down his thoughts and memories, as no insistent voice nagged him to drop Kate or make sure the Doctor was dead. "The TARDIS," he said, as he detected a block of space/time distortion falling through the atmosphere, "Maybe he's inside it."
A few moments later, the space/time distortion shot upward, and Alistair gave a nod of satisfaction. "He's safe. For now."
He thought about heading groundward – Kate was cold, likely bruised, maybe a few cracked ribs from the shock of the decompression that had flung her out of the plane – but decided that the Belgian authorities would probably not wait for him to explain who he was before they opened fire.
Nor would the British.
No. There was only one man he could trust right now, and he was heading for... another quick scan… London.
"Hold on, Kate," he said, "I'll get you to safety as fast as I can."
She put her arms around his neck and murmured, "I can't believe you're flying!"
He couldn't smile – which was an odd feeling – but he could manage a chuckle. "This isn't flying," he said, quoting a line from a DVD his grandchildren had watched ad nauseum when they were small, "This is falling with style."
There were tears in Kate's eyes, but he knew that if he remarked on it she'd just claim it was the result of the chilly wind that buffeted them as he raced over the Channel. "I've missed you so much," she said, "But I'd never have wished this on you. I'm so sorry, dad."
"Hardly your fault," he said. "In any case, cyber-conversion has its upside – after all, I'd not have been able to catch you if it hadn't happened."
As the Thames Estuary hove into view and he set course upriver, Kate began to drift in and out of consciousness, and Alistair worried that she was getting too cold. "Not much further now." The TARDIS' space/time distortion was growing stronger by the second. So was the transmission signal from cyber-control: except now, the message was different. A new voice was giving the orders, a voice that belonged to a soldier. A soldier of earth.
Up ahead, scores of cybermen took to the skies, and Alistair knew he would be unnoticed as he flew in beneath them, aiming for the graveyard where he could now see not only the TARDIS but also the Doctor and two women – one young and pretty, one in a very Victorian style of dress.
"Guess who?" he muttered, watching the woman twirl and preen while he touched down and gently placed Kate between the gravestones near the TARDIS.
"Dad." She reached for him as he stood up, her hand coming to rest on his foot. "Don't go."
"You know I must. The Doctor needs my help – and you need his."
"Daddy…"
She'd passed out again. Probably just as well. Alistair wasn't sure he'd have been able to walk away if she was still conscious.
He moved a little away from her, scanning constantly to make sure her lifesigns were stable, and now he could pick up the conversation between the Doctor and the Master. Or was it Mistress? The girl was joining in too, insisting that the Doctor punished Missy, urging him to kill, pushing a weapon into his hand.
Not possible, thought Alistair. When did the Doctor ever kill anyone in cold blood?
Yet there he was, raising the weapon, arming it, aiming…
Doctor, you'd never forgive yourself.
He raised his arm, took aim, fired.
Well, that got his attention anyway.
He raised his other arm to point at Kate, watched as the Doctor and his young companion ran to her, heard the girl say "She's talking about her dad!"
A salute. From the Doctor. Well. That was unexpected. Alistair dipped his head, acknowledging the gesture, and the sentiment behind it.
A final scan to make sure Kate was recovering.
All was well.
Time to go.
[A/N: Brigadier fan? check out the fanfiction forum - link via my profile ]