Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who.
Author's Note: I'll try to update about every other day.
Austin, Texas 2010
Jasmine Kline rapped the phone in disgust. Her sister had, once again, broached the subject of New York.
"Come on, Jas, you can't believe everything you see in the movies. The city's not as crime-ridden as Hollywood makes it out to be. Please, just give it a shot," Maria pleaded.
"Maria." Jasmine spoke slowly to ensure reception of her argument. "I'm not leaving Austin. My whole life is in Texas. I start grad school in the fall and Ivan just returned from Iraq."
Jasmine glanced at a metal picture frame resting on her desk. A young, happy couple grinned out from a tropical background. Jasmine longed for those days to return, an era of love without loss, mystery without secrets. Her heart ached when she thought of the professional confidentiality she and Ivan were forced to uphold, the secret worlds they withheld from one another.
"I know you love Ivan but, Jas, think about it: he's only home for a couple of weeks and then he's going back. What are you going to do all on your own for another fifteen months? Drown yourself in mundane classes while working the nightshift on Post?" Maria sighed. "Look, you'll be transferred eventually anyway, why not just relocate now?"
"I've worked too hard in school to quit now. Besides, if I stay in Austin I might have a shot at Post commander. We may be an outpost but we're still UNIT," Jasmine stated defensively.
Knowing the conversation was pointless, Maria finally conceded and squawked goodbye.
Jasmine's head dropped in her hands. She had seriously considered joining her sister in New York, and was even now receptive to the idea.
Footsteps echoed down the hall. Odd, Jasmine thought. She glanced at her computer's clock. It was quarter after five, too early for the six o'clock shift to arrive and she was the only employee on this floor. It was probably one of the janitors hurrying to finish before the daytime flood of personnel. She had always thought those pesky maids were lazy.
The footsteps halted outside Jasmine's office. She swiveled around in her desk chair, ready to reproach the intruder. A dark figure loomed against the doorjamb. Jasmine started to lecture, but the words caught in her throat. Instead, her tightened lips burst open into a bloodcurdling scream.
New York, 6 months later
A local apartment guide listed the complex as "historic." All Calla saw was a forgotten wooden structure violating every fire code known to man. She intentionally bypassed the elevator, wary of its retro wiring, and headed nine floors up the stairs. A musty odor of filth and decay filled Calla's nostrils. This wasn't the building she pictured a high-profile UNIT operative to live.
Calla knocked on the door of apartment 9-K, a cheery rapt she hoped would assuage some of the occupant's fears. Anyone and everyone associated with UNIT was doubly-cautious of late and Dr. Kline was no exception.
Not that I can blame her, Calla thought, bouncing in place while she waited, the rubber soles of her shoes squeaking softly on the linoleum floor.
Inside the apartment, something metal clanged followed quickly by a violent swear. Moments later, what Calla thought would have been a heavy door swung round so fast she swore it dematerialized.
"Dr. Kline?" Calla posed gingerly.
"Who are you?" The woman narrowed her eyes as she did a quick scan of the stranger on her stoop.
Calla flashed her Torchwood credentials. Dr. Kline snorted. "Torchwood? You've got to be kidding me. What do you people want?"
"If I could just borrow a moment of your time, I have a few questions regarding your sister's case-"
"No." Maria Kline shook her head ferociously and moved to shut the door. "I'm not answering any questions."
Calla shoved the left half of her body into the apartment, halting the door's momentum with her foot. "Maria, your sister isn't the first. I need your help before this gets out of hand."
Maria relaxed her hold on the door. She seemed to think over Calla's proposition- a good sign. Then she dropped her shoulders and stood back for Calla to properly enter. "I don't know how I can help you, but I'll do my best."
Sweeping the other half of her body through the door, Calla found herself in the kitchen area of a well-furbished studio. A state of the art entertainment center took up the left side wall of the living area, a plush futon deliberately set to provide the lounger with views of both the television and the picture window. A rosy sunset illuminated the floor with a silhouette of New York City.
Maria waved her guest to the futon. "Why is Torchwood so interested now? You lot refused our earlier assistance requests."
"Everything has its time," Calla mumbled, thinking back on all those cryptic little quotes from her childhood. "The present is what I'm focusing on. The present, and how it will affect the future."
She twisted around to face Maria, taking in the rest of the surprisingly spacious room. A photo shelf ran along the opposite wall just above a beautiful wildlife mosaic of bears, wolves, and foliage. A small copper pot bubbled on the stove while fresh coffee dripped from a single-cup machine.
Maria swept into position between the futon and the television. "I have an appointment so make this quick."
"I know this isn't easy, and first let me offer my deepest condolences." Calla saw a flit of pain cross Maria's pale face. She paused sympathetically, then continued. "Including Austin, five UNIT outposts have been compromised, two in the states, one in Africa, and two in Asia. Personnel at every post were slaughtered."
Maria pursed her lips. "I know that. I lost former co-workers in those attacks."
"These weren't random attacks. Each of those particular posts houses UNIT personnel archives. The addresses of every operative are now in the hands of the enemy, in an encrypted file, so that buys us some time. But we don't have a positive ID on who or what targeted the posts." Calla grimaced inwardly. She knew exactly what had killed Jasmine Kline and the others, but UNIT refused to take action without proof.
"I can't help you there," Maria said blandly.
"You were the last person to talk to Jasmine. Did she offer you any indication something was wrong? Maybe a slight pause in the conversation, or maybe you heard something in the background?"
Maria thought for a moment, then shook her head. "We just... talked. I was trying to convince her to move out here. She was so stubborn about staying in Austin."
As the grieving sister fell silent Calla couldn't help but allow herself some self-pity. Taking Maria's hand in her own, she squeezed a brief of sense of compassion into the woman. Then she took a deep breath and blurted out the dreadful secret she had hoped to conceal. "If we don't find your sister's murderers more people will wind up dead. And not just UNIT personnel."
Maria looked quizzically at the brown-haired girl before her. Calla bit her lip, unsure of how to word what she couldn't reveal. "It's like dejavu. I've seen something similar happen before. And if it's the same perpetrators, then the whole planet is in real trouble."
This revelation stunned the good doctor. She reflexively removed her hand from Calla's grasp. "What do you mean, the whole planet? And how could you have seen anything before? You're just a kid!"
Calla ignored the last statement. "Well, for starters, without UNIT this planet has no defense against alien invaders and no way of assimilating refugees. Earth would fall in a second. Ever since the Industrial Revolution, humans have been on radar. The whole universe is noticing and that's not a good thing. Second, if I'm right about the identity of your sister's murderers, mankind has already lost."