that's all I ask.
CATEGORY: Adventure, General RATING/WARNINGS: PG (for some action-violence)
MAIN CHARACTERS: Rebecca, Jules, Phileas, Passepartout, the Doctor, Charley DISCLAIMER: SAJV and characters copyright Talisman/Promark/etc. The Doctor, Charley, TARDIS, etc. copyright BBC/Big Finish, etc. Star Trek, Enterprise, Archer, Porthos, Reed, etc. copyright Paramount Pictures. No infringement is intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Crossover time again. I swear, one of these days I'll write a completely original, non-crossover story. One day, but not today...
***************
Sir Jonathan Chatsworth was seated at his desk in his office at the headquarters of the British Secret Service. It was late, much later than most agents tended to stay. Sir Jonathan looked up when he heard his assistant, Jessica Kingston, yelp in surprise.
"I'm sorry, sirs, you can't come in here," he heard her say. He hurried out of his office, to find Jessica standing at her desk. Noticing her boss, she pointed at two men walking away from her down the corridor. One was tall,
thin, dark-haired, with tiny beady eyes. The other was not nearly as tall,
but just as thin, and with warmer, friendly eyes. Apart from those minor differences, the two could have been twins. Both displayed trim, dark beards on their faces, and both wore neat, ordinary gentleman's clothing.
The taller man held a small box in his hands, the shorter man held a black satchel. The tall man, whom Chatsworth decided to call Mr. Tall, looked back at Sir Jonathan and Jessica, paused, smiled broadly at them, and waved.
Then Mr. Tall spun about and walked swiftly away from them and down the corridor. The other man, Mr. Short, nervously smiled at Sir Jonathan as well, then scampered after Mr. Tall.
"Stop right there, whoever you are!" Sir Jonathan called out sternly. There was no reply from either man. The two rounded a corner at the end of the hall and were lost from sight. Sir Jonathan turned to Jessica. "Get me some agents, on the double! They're headed for the vault."
Jessica nodded, and hurried off. Sir Jonathan unholstered his pistol.
Checking that it was indeed loaded, he dashed down the hallway, and edged his way close to the corner. Quickly peeking around the corner, Sir Jonathan noted that the two men were at the far end of the corridor with their backs to him. Sir Jonathan crouched and turned the corner, making his way towards the intruders. As he got nearer the two strangers, he noted the unconscious forms of both of the vault guards lying on the floor behind the intruders. Sir Jonathan shook his head. He would have to reprimand those two officially, once this affair was over and done with.
Sir Jonathan crept nearer and nearer, and took up cover behind a desk situated about halfway down the right side of the corridor. Another desk matched his cover over on the left side of the long hallway. Sir Jonathan stood boldly upright, pointed his gun at the two men, and said, "Stop whatever you are doing, and step away from that door. You are trespassers on Her Majesty's property, and I demand that you account for yourselves immediately."
The two men ignored him. Sir Jonathan frowned, and aimed his pistol at a point above their heads. He wished to avoid bloodshed if at all possible,
but was prepared if the need should arise. He squeezed the trigger, loosing a bullet which struck the doorframe above the two intruders' heads.
Mr. Tall glanced up at the slight damage above him, whispered something to Mr. Short, and with a swift turn of *something* in his hands, opened the vault door and slid inside. Mr. Short pulled an item out of his satchel and pointed it at Sir Jonathan. Sir Jonathan ducked as Mr. Short pulled the trigger, sending a bullet into the wooden panelling of the wall beside Sir Jonathan. As he looked up at the wall from his place of cover behind the desk, Sir Jonathan noted, with a tiny bit of relief, that the bullet would have not hit him, but seemed to have been deliberately aimed so as to miss him. Excellent, he thought. These two weren't after blood either. Perhaps there was a simple, non-violent way out of this mess after all.
Sir Jonathan heard a noise behind him, and saw that Jessica was finally hurrying towards him. However, there appeared to be no one else with her.
Sir Jonathan frantically waved at her and pointed at the desk opposite him.
She got the message, and dashed towards the desk, sliding the last few feet and slamming into it with her left shoulder. Jessica winced and rubbed her bruised shoulder as she sat up behind the cover of the desk. Sir Jonathan brought her up to speed on the events of the brief shoot-out.
"Thank heavens he didn't try to shoot at you when you turned the corner just now," Sir Jonathan said.
"There was no one at the vault door when I came around the corner, sir,"
Jessica said.
Sir Jonathan peered over the top of his desk, and noted that there was indeed no trace of Mr. Short. He began to stand up, and was met with another gunshot in his direction. He quickly looked down once more. He looked over at Jessica. "Perhaps he simply doesn't like to shoot at a lady," Sir Jonathan said.
"Or perhaps it's just you he doesn't like, sir," Jessica said.
Sir Jonathan scowled at her. "Where are those agents I told you to get,
Agent Kingston?"
Jessica looked away as she replied, "There's hardly anyone about, sir. I was afraid I'd have no luck, it being a Sunday morning at 3 a.m., sir." Sir Jonathan thought he detected a hint of resentment in her voice, but he dismissed it for now.
"Do you mean to tell me that there's no one here to assist us?" Sir Jonathan asked her, aghast.
"Not quite, sir. I did dash outside to see if anyone was nearby, a policeman or some such, and..." Jessica trailed off.
"Well?"
"I did find someone, sir," Jessica said quietly.
"Who?" Sir Jonathan asked, becoming impatient. "Out with it, girl!"
"Ah, Sir Jonathan Chatsworth!" a voice cried out from behind them down the corridor. "I hear that you're in dire need of my assistance!"
Sir Jonathan winced. Oh, good Lord, he thought. Anyone else, anyone else would have been fine, but no, I had to get *him*, didn't I? Sir Jonathan turned, and saw the proud, well-dressed, and none-too-sober form of Phileas Fogg strolling down the hallway towards him. Sir Jonathan fought down the anger within him, and furiously gestured for Fogg to get down and head for cover.
"What on Earth are you waving your arms about like that for, Sir Jonathan?"
Fogg said, smiling as he ambled his way towards Sir Jonathan and his desk.
The angry head of the Secret Service quickly dashed over to Fogg, and pulled him low to the ground, almost dragging him to cover behind the desk as yet another gunshot from Mr. Short blasted at them.
"It appears it's not just you he's firing at after all," Jessica said quietly.
Behind the desk, Sir Jonathan chose to ignore Jessica's comment. He looked at Phileas and shook him roughly. "Look, Fogg, I don't care where you've just been, I don't care what you've been up to tonight. But as it so happens, yes, we do need your help. We have two intruders in the vault."
"Intruders?" Fogg replied somewhat blearily. "Well, we should bloody well get rid of them, shouldn't we?" Fogg made to stand up, but was roughly pulled back down by Sir Jonathan.
"Fogg, they've got weapons, and they're holding us at bay here. We need to stop them from accomplishing whatever it is they came here to accomplish.
I'm assuming it's some sort of theft."
"Well, that makes perfect sense," Fogg slurred.
Sir Jonathan slapped Fogg across the face. "Damn you, man! Sober up, and quick! This is for Queen and Country, Fogg!"
The combination of the sudden slap and the magic words "Queen and Country"
seemed to do the trick. Phileas Fogg steadied himself, and shook his head briefly, clearing it. He pursed his lips, and nodded at Sir Jonathan. "Of course, Sir Jonathan," he said apologetically.
"Excellent, thank you, Fogg," Sir Jonathan said, relieved.
"Phileas?" Another new voice called out from behind the cowering trio. The three turned to look behind them down the corridor. It was Rebecca Fogg,
one of Her Majesty's Secret Agents. "What brings you here this morning?"
"Miss Fogg!" Sir Jonathan shouted. "Get down! And get over here, quickly!"
Rebecca crouched down, and, running low, dove for cover next to Jessica.
Rebecca slid to a halt up against the desk. She looked down at her knees,
noting that the material on her trousers' knees were now scuffed and dirty.
"Oh, well," Rebecca muttered.
"Perhaps it is only men he's shooting at," Jessica whispered.
Sir Jonathan quickly informed Rebecca of the situation.
Rebecca raised an eyebrow as Sir Jonathan concluded his short story. She glanced at Phileas. "I wondered what was going on when I saw you enter the building, Phileas," Rebecca said.
"Were you following me, Rebecca?" Phileas asked, affronted.
"Not at all, Phileas," Rebecca replied. "I was out and about on... personal business."
"Oh, really?" Phileas said, his eyes widening as he teased her. "And what sort of 'personal business' does a lady get up to at 3 a.m. on a Sat--"
"Oh, for heaven's sake, you two!" Sir Jonathan hissed at them both. "Will you both shut up, and help us deal with these intruders!"
Rebecca fought back a grin, and replied, "Of course, Sir Jonathan."
"Good," Sir Jonathan said, satisfied. "Now, as I see it, we need to get into that vault, and quickly, before they get whatever it is they're after,
or do whatever it is they've come to do. For that, I think we need a distraction, to get Mr. Short--"
"Mr. Short?" Phileas interrupted.
"The shorter of the two men," Sir Jonathan answered. "Never mind. As I was saying--"
Sir Jonathan was interrupted again, as, without warning, Mr. Short suddenly rushed past them and hurried off down the corridor. Surprised, Sir Jonathan managed to fire off only one wild shot, but he missed his target completely.
Rebecca stood up, and hauled Jessica to her feet. "We're going after him,
you two get in there!" Rebecca ordered. Rebecca and Jessica ran off in the direction of Mr. Short's escape, disappearing around the corner.
Sir Jonathan looked at Phileas. "Right," he said, pursing his lips determinedly. "Let's go, Fogg."
As they carefully stood up from behind their shelter, Fogg whispered to Sir Jonathan. "Do you always let her order you around?"
Sir Jonathan sighed. "I have discovered that once Miss Rebecca Fogg sets her mind on something, she has no other bosses but herself."
Fogg smiled slightly. "Indeed."
They approached the door to the vault, and took up positions on either side of the open doorway, pressing their backs to the wall. Since Sir Jonathan was the one with the gun, he burst into the vault first, crouching low,
pistol before him.
Looking carefully and swiftly all around him, Sir Jonathan noted the huge space of the vault, and its rows and rows of valuables and artifacts.
Nothing immediately seemed to be out of place. Curiously enough, there seemed to be no sign of Mr. Tall, either.
Fogg entered behind Sir Jonathan, and looked around as well. "No sign of anyone here, Sir Jonathan."
"Hmmm. But only one person ran past us out there, is that not correct?"
Phileas nodded. "Yes. Was it Mr. Short or Mr. Tall?"
"Mr. Short. So where is Mr. Tall?"
Sir Jonathan spun about as he heard something scrape against the floor from across the large room. A faint reddish glow emanated from a distant corner.
Pistol at the ready, Sir Jonathan dashed towards the source of the odd light. He arrived at the corner just in time to see the vague outline of Mr. Tall enveloped in a swirling cloud of bright red light. As the light roiled and dimmed, Mr. Tall faded quickly from view, but not before he had the chance to wave at Sir Jonathan and Fogg. Sir Jonathan noted that Mr.
Tall had held a small box in his waving hand, and a spherical object of some sort in his other hand.
The reddish glow now completely gone, along with all trace of Mr. Tall, Sir Jonathan sighed angrily. He looked over at Fogg.
"What the hell is going on?" they said in unison.
They spun about once more as yet another strange sound pierced the eeire early morning quiet. It came from out in the corridor.
They hurried across the vault, and burst into the corridor to find a tall blue box immediately in their path, between the vault door and the desks they had used as cover. The box was taller than either of them, and was about twice as tall as it was wide. A number of opaque windows topped the door-like sides of the box, and the whole affair was topped by a light that flashed a few times, then stopped.
As soon as Fogg saw what it was, he shook his head, and closed his eyes.
"Oh, good Lord, no," he grumbled. Sir Jonathan glanced at him.
One of the doors on the box opened, and two people ran out. They pulled up short so as not to run over Sir Jonathan or Fogg. The taller of the two newcomers, a handsome man, was dressed in a fine, dark-green velvet frock coat, a silver waistcoat, and a neat cravat. His brown, curly hair was a bit longer than was currently the fashion. His companion, an attractive young woman, wore a pair of black trousers, a dark maroon blouse, and a black frock coat that appeared to be a more feminine version of her taller friend's coat. Her dirty-blonde hair framed a friendly face with warm,
greenish-blue eyes.
The man's eyes lit up as he saw whom he had almost run over. "Ah, Phileas Fogg! And Sir Jonathan Chatsworth! How pleasant to see you both!" He caught sight of the unconscious bodies of the two vault guards. "Oh, dear,"
he continued, his voice turning sad. "It appears we've arrived a bit too late, Charley."
Phileas looked at the man, and said calmly, holding his simmering irritation in check, "Doctor. What brings you here? And your friend, Miss..."
"Oh, that's right, she wasn't along last time we met," the Doctor said.
"This is my friend, Charlotte Pollard."
Charley smiled as she shook Fogg's and Sir Jonathan's hands. "Please, call me Charley."
"Nice to see you again, Doctor," Sir Jonathan said, somewhat relieved,
knowing that help was at hand at last. "And delighted to meet you, Miss Pollard."
"As for what brings us here," the Doctor continued. "Well, that's quite an interesting little story, as a matter of fact..."
*****
Rebecca Fogg and Jessica Kingston hurried out of the headquarters building of the British Secret Service. They looked around, attempting to spot their prey, the mysterious Mr. Short. Rebecca spotted his running figure down the street, and, with a tug on Jessica's arm, she ran after him.
Mr. Short turned a corner, and Rebecca doubled her efforts, hoping desperately that she could catch up to him. He had a decent start.
However, she had the advantage... she was Rebecca Fogg, after all. Glancing back to make sure Jessica was keeping up with her (and she was), Rebecca swiftly turned the same corner Mr. Short had...
... and was roughly knocked to the ground as Mr. Short plowed straight into her. Rebecca and the strange man wrestled briefly as they both attempted to stand and gain the upper hand. Jessica caught up to them, and entered into the fray. Suddenly, Mr. Short issued a loud, sharp bark, and flung both women back to the ground with what appeared to be a surprising degree of strength for a man of his height. Mr. Short snarled as he picked up his satchel from where it had fallen, and, with departing kicks to both the women's abdomens, he fled.
Rebecca and Jessica helped each other to stand. Rebecca stamped her foot in disgust, mainly at herself for letting her quarry escape so easily.
Granted, his strength had taken her by surprise. Still, that was no excuse.
She was better than that. There had to be something else, something she was missing...
Jessica gazed gloomily down the street along which Mr. Short had made good his escape. She swore under her breath, another experience that took Rebecca by surprise.
"Why, Miss Kingston," Rebecca said, having finally recovered her breath. "I don't believe I've ever heard you speak quiet so strongly before."
"Oh, I'm sorry, Miss Fogg," Jessica said, casting her face down. "I'm just upset at myself for letting him get away. For letting him and his accomplice get past me in the first place."
Rebecca walked over to the forlorn Jessica, and placed a reassuring hand on the other woman's shoulder, giving it a short encouraging squeeze. "Never mind that, Miss Kingston. It's obvious there's something very odd going on here. That man was more than he appeared to be, that is for certain."
Jessica looked up at Rebecca, and smiled at her. "Thank you, Miss Fogg.
You always know just what to say." Jessica gazed into Rebecca's eyes for just a bit longer than Rebecca felt comfortable with. Sensing her discomfort, Jessica quickly cast her eyes downward once again. Then she frowned. "Hmmm..."
Rebecca looked down as well. "'Hmmm' indeed," Rebecca agreed. The two women bent down, and looked at the strange, small metal box that rested incongruously on the cobbled street surface. Rebecca picked it up, and peered at it. "Good heavens. What could this be?"
Jessica looked at it closely as it nestled in Rebecca's palm. "This looks rather like the box that the taller man was holding when they first arrived at Headquarters."
"Does it, indeed?" Rebecca said, one eyebrow arching inquisitively. "It must have fallen from our man's little black bag during the struggle just now."
Jessica nodded. "I think we'd best get back to Headquarters, Miss Fogg."
Rebecca agreed, and slipped the small box into a pocket.
*****
The Doctor had managed to revive the two unconscious vault guards using some odd little device he had produced from one of his coat pockets. The two guards stood up unsteadily, but certified that they actually felt quite well. Chatsworth sent one of them to summon more agents, while he left the other on guard, the vault having been closed and resealed once more.
"Once he gets back with reinforcements, I want both of you to go straight to the infirmary, is that understood?" Chatsworth told the remaining vault guard sternly. The guard nodded and replied that he understood. That having been taken care of, Chatsworth turned back to Phileas and the two newcomers.
"Well, Doctor," Chatsworth said. "I must confess I didn't expect you to turn up, but I am glad of any assistance you can provide all the same."
"Oh, you're quite welcome, Sir Jonathan," the Doctor replied casually,
looking around a bit distractedly. "Charley, bring them up to speed, would you, please?" The Doctor waved generally in his companion's direction, and then wandered down the hallway.
Charley cleared her throat, and turned from the Doctor to face Chatsworth and the pleasantly attractive Phileas Fogg. She smiled at the distinguished man with the intriguing sideburns as she began. "Well, you see, we're after these two men. They're what we call 'alien criminal masterminds'."
"Only the one," the Doctor called out as he inspected the desks that had been used for cover during the earlier gunfight.
"Oh!" Charley said. "Right, sorry. One's an actual 'mastermind', the other is just some poor fellow who got dragged along by the main bad guy."
Phileas frowned. "What?"
"The mastermind is a man known as Lord Aranax," Charley continued. "He and his accomplice, Mr. Springwell--"
"I think it's just 'Springwell', Charley, without the 'Mister'," the Doctor interrupted again.
"Well, I like calling him 'Mr. Springwell', if it's all the same to you,
Doctor," Charley retorted, playfully. "I think it's rather catchy. Don't you?" Charley looked squarely at Phileas, gazing into his eyes.
Phileas blinked, apparently taken aback somewhat by the outgoing young lady.
"Well, um... quite," he managed to stammer. "Don't you agree, Sir Jonathan?"
Sir Jonathan harrumphed, saying, "Which one was this Lord Aranax, the taller one or the shorter one?"
"Oh, the taller one," Charley said, continuing to smile at Phileas. She turned back to the Doctor, who was now looking at the bullet holes in the wall above the desks. "Doctor, how much can I tell them? I mean, about.
you know..."
The Doctor pushed a finger delicately into one of the bullet holes. Without turning, he called back, "Everything, Charley. You'll find they're not so closed-minded as you might expect."
Sir Jonathan and Phileas glanced at one another.
Charley continued her story. "Right. Lord Aranax and Mr. Springwell are from another planet, a planet called Riviss. Lord Aranax feels that he's the rightful heir to become ruler of the planet. However, the planet's government and the Rivissians don't agree. They've moved on from a monarchy based on lineage and heritage and all that, and instead have instituted a democratic form of government. Aranax doesn't care that the people don't want him as their ruler, and will do anything to take control of the planet.
"To that end, Aranax is searching for two objects, control spheres, I believe the Doctor called them. One of them was traced to Earth, and the other... Doctor, we haven't located the other sphere yet, have we?"
The Doctor had finished his investigation and was walking back to rejoin the group by the TARDIS, the Doctor's blue box. "Not yet. Don't worry, we'll be able to track Aranax easily enough. And besides, as long as Springwell's around, I think there's still some investigating to be done here on Earth.
At least for a short time."
Charley smiled up at Phileas as she continued. "So, these two control spheres are the key to starting this great big powerful energy source on Riviss. Apparently it's powerful enough to control the minds of everyone on the planet. Aranax thinks that with this source under his control, he can make the people of Riviss do his bidding, and he can finally become the ruler of his world."
"How did one of these control spheres come to be here on Earth?" Phileas asked.
"Good question," Charley said, grinning at Phileas. "The energy source was created many years ago, millennia before the time of Aranax. The energy source was simply a helpful tool when it was created. It helped nudge weather systems in a particular direction, for instance, guaranteeing a rainfall in a specific region to prevent a drought. It was useful for all sorts of nice things like that. After a while, the good people of Riviss were constantly under attack from all sorts of bad people, who wanted control of the powersource for their own evil purposes. Eventually the leaders got fed up with the constant attacks, and decided to get rid of the control spheres, in the hopes that no one would ever find them, and so that no one could ever control the powersource again.
"The Rivissians do not have the capability to travel through space, but a friendly visitor from another world offered to help them. He set up two rockets, which he then launched, each with a control sphere aboard. These unmanned rockets were launched, and wherever they ended up, that's where they ended up. They weren't guided or programmed or anything like that.
One of the rockets landed on Earth, not too long ago. Somehow it found its way into your vaults, apparently."
"Well, they're not *my* vaults, actually," Phileas said, glancing away from Charley, instead looking at Sir Jonathan. "They're his, he's the head of the Secret Service."
"Well, these vaults, in any event. The other sphere we still have to track down. Does that about cover things, Doctor?"
The Doctor nodded. "Yes, thank you, Charley, well done," he said breezily.
"Now, I think it's best if-- Wait, wait, wait, wait. No, that's not *quite*
it, Charley. Actually, it mostly is, but not completely. Lord Aranax has the power to transmat."
"Transmat?" Sir Jonathan said, puzzled.
"Ooh, that's a tough one," the Doctor said. "A way of breaking up the bits and pieces that make up an object or a person into tiny, tiny little invisible bits, sending them almost instantaneously through space, and reforming them back into their original shape at the destination, wherever that may be. Make sense?"
Phileas and Sir Jonathan nodded, not understanding in the slightest, but knowing that this was probably the best explanation they were likely to get from the Doctor.
"As I was saying," the Doctor continued, "Aranax has a pair of transmat devices, thanks to another alien visitor to Riviss. The poor fellow. At least you didn't see what Lord Aranax did to him."
Charley looked up at the Doctor, sadly. "It was a bit... unnerving, to say the least."
"So, with these transmat devices," the Doctor continued, "and some tracking equipment from his home planet, Aranax has begun to hunt down these control spheres. It seems he's already got the one. Now he's on his way to the second. And we've got to stop him before he gets them both and returns to Riviss to take control of the planet."
Sir Jonathan piped up. "You said that this Lord Aranax had a pair of transmat devices. Presumably Aranax has one, and Springwell has the other,
correct?"
"Not necessarily," Rebecca called down the corridor as she and Jessica arrived. They joined the group by the Doctor's TARDIS, and Rebecca produced the small metal box they had found on the ground. "Might this be one of those devices, Doctor?"
"Rebecca Fogg!" the Doctor cried, delightedly. "How exquisite to see you once more! And you are...?" the Doctor trailed off as he turned to Jessica.
"Jessica Kingston, sir," Jessica said shyly, with a slight curtsey.
"May I introduce my friend, Charley Pollard," the Doctor continued.
Rebecca eyed the young lady suspiciously. Charley did likewise. The two women seemed to sense something about the other, something they couldn't quite put their finger on. However, they shook hands in a friendly manner and smiled at each other. Charley shook Jessica's hand as well.
The Doctor looked at the small box. "Yes, indeed, Rebecca. This is the other transmat device, well done! Now Springwell's stranded on Earth."
"Springwell?" Rebecca said. "Is that the name of the man we were after?"
Charley nodded. "Mr. Springwell is the accomplice of Lord Aranax."
"Lord Aranax?" Jessica asked, frowning in confusion.
"Doctor, do I have to go over everything again?" Charley asked, her voice tinged with just a hint of fatigue.
The Doctor pulled out a pocketwatch and clicked it open. "Hmmm. Perhaps it's best if we all meet back here in the morning and recap everything for everybody. Say, nine o'clock? How does that sound?" There were murmurs of agreement all around. "Excellent!" the Doctor continued enthusiastically,
snapping his watch shut and pocketing it. "Oh, and if you wouldn't mind bringing along your delightful friends Jules Verne and Jean Passepartout,
that would be superb! We'll start on a plan of attack first thing in the morning."
The Doctor grinned as everyone shuffled off.
"Doctor," Charley said quietly, as she and the Doctor turned to re-enter the TARDIS. "Shouldn't we be hurrying after Lord Aranax?"
"Oh, don't worry about him. Benefits of having a time machine. I can bend the rules just a bit here and there. The TARDIS will have no problem tracking Aranax. Besides, I want to know why Springwell stayed behind here on Earth."
*****