Disclaimer: Nid wyf yn berchen Doctor Who, hyd yn oed yn y Gymraeg

Boom Town:

Chapter 1: Welsh Starship Fuel

It was late at night, in the mayor's office when Mr Cleaver came to present his findings to her. He'd put a lot of time and effort into his investigations and he was terrified of the cost, should he fail to make an impact in his talk. "I've checked the figures, time and again, always the same result!" He insisted. "I beg of you. Stop the project now, before it's too late."

The Mayor blinked in surprise. "Well... Obviously, you're the expert."

"Then you'll stop it?"

"It seems I have no choice." Margret sighed.

"And you'll stop it today?"

"Of course. Nothing's more important than human life." Something in the mayor's tone troubled Cleaver, but she quickly reassured him. "What do you take me for? Some sort of maniac? Am I right in thinking you've shown your findings to no-one else?"

"Oh yes. Just you."

"Wise move." She smiled.

Cleaver sighed in relief and turned to look over the model of the power station, which sat in the hall next door. The moment his back was turned, Margret fumbled for the zip on her forehead.

"You know, this is a load off my mind." Cleaver said. "I've been going spare these last few weeks, up every night double checking the figures. I've barely even seen my wife. I just couldn't believe the scale of the thing! It's almost as if someone wanted the project to go wrong. Wanted the whole city to vanish. Thank God we've got you..." He turned back to Margret, only to find himself confronted by an eight foot clawed monster, which grabbed him by the neck.

Mickey stepped off the train in Cardiff station, or Orsaf Caerdydd as the signs described it. Of course, no-one in this city spoke Welsh as a first language but the Welsh Parliament was adamant that it was important to show cultural significance from England.

He walked through the streets towards the Roald Dahl Plass, where he knew the TARDIS to be parked.

The city had certainly seen a lot of redevelopment in recent years, all the buildings seemed sparkling and new, particularly on a sunny day like today. The plass itself was a large and impressive monument, not exactly what he'd expected when he'd crossed the Welsh border in search of a familiar blue box.

Sure enough, the TARDIS was parked right in the middle of the square, next to the fountain, though nobody else seemed to notice. Mickey strolled up and knocked on the door.

To his surprise, the door was opened by a dark haired American. "Who the hell are you?"

"What do you mean who the hell am I?" Said Mickey. "Who the hell are you?"

"Whatever you're selling we're not buying, so if you'll just be on your way..."

"Out of my way." Mickey groaned and pushed past the man.

"Don't tell me." Said Jack. "This must be Mickey."

Mickey found the console room in a much less neat state than when he'd last seen it. Several panels were propped open, displaying a complex arrangement of circuitry. Cables were also strewn around the place.

"Hello Rickey boy!" The Doctor called from where he was fiddling with something on the catwalk.

"It's Mickey."

"Don't worry." Said Rose. "He's winding you up."

Mickey looked her over and thought about the thing he needed to tell her. Somehow it died in his throat. "You look fantastic." He said, and hugged her.

"Ah, sweet." Said Jack. "How come I never get any of that?"

"Buy me a drink first." Said the Doctor.

"Such hard work..."

"But worth it!"

"Did you manage to find it?" Said Rose.

Mickey rummaged in his pocket and pulled out Rose's passport. She grinned. "I can go anywhere now."

"I told ya. You don't need a passport." Said the Doctor. "You've got the TARDIS."

"It's all very well going to Platform 1 and the Justicia and the Glass Pyramid of Sanglia, but what if I end up in Brazil? I might need it. Prepared for anything me."

The Doctor just shook his head. That girl's thought process was baffling sometimes.

"Sounds like you're staying then?" Mickey said, with a hint of disappointment. Rose wasn't sure what to say. After a few seconds' awkward silence, Mickey changed the subject. "So what you doing in Cardiff? And where'd you find jumping Jack flash?" He gestured to Jack. "I mean big ears was bad enough..."

"Oy!" Said the Doctor.

"Look in a mirror. But now this guy's more..."

"Handsome?" Jack grinned. "Muscular?"

"I was going to say cheesy."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Early 21st century slang. Is cheesy good?"

"No, it's bad."

"But bad means good, is that right?" Said Jack.

Rose decided to answer Mickey's other question, while the Doctor ran his hand over his ear. "We just stopped off to refuel. You see, Cardiff's got this rift running through it. It's invisible, but it's like an earthquake fault between different dimensions..."

"...The rift was healed, back in 1869..." The Doctor picked up from her.

"...Thanks to a girl called Gwyneth." Rose added. "You see, these creatures called the Gelth were using the rift as a portal, but she saved the world and closed it..."

"...But closing a rift leaves behind a scar." Jack stepped in. "And that scar bleeds energy, harmless to the human race..."

"...But perfect for the TARDIS." Said the Doctor. "We just park the TARDIS here for a couple of days, soak up the energy..."

"...The fill her up with petrol and off we go..." Said Rose.

"...Into time..." Said Jack.

"...And space!" They all said together, before high fiving at their unrehearsed coordination.

Mickey rolled his eyes. "Have you seen yourselves? You think you're so clever, don't you?"

"Yep." They each said in turn, grinning.

It was a tricky system to wire up. The loss of Galifrey had wrecked the previous power source and the Doctor had had to improvise this one from scratch. There were bound to be a few rough edges.

But eventually, everything was connected and they made their way out.

"Should take about 24 hours to fuel up." Said the Doctor. "Gives us time to kill."

But Mickey was looking at something else. "That old woman's staring."

"Probably wondering what four people would be doing inside a small wooden box." Jack grinned suggestively.

"What are you captain of exactly?" Mickey asked. "The innuendo squad?"

Jack just made a gesture that Rose had told him meant "whatever!"

"Can you just leave the TARDIS like this?" Mickey said. "Doesn't it get noticed?"

"I've been meaning to ask." Said Jack. "What's with the blue box?"

"It's a cloaking device." Said Rose.

The Doctor nodded. "Chameleon circuit. It's programmed to transform into whatever's likely to go unnoticed wherever it lands. So, if we landed in ancient Rome, it would be a statue on a plinth. I landed in the 1960s and it turned into a Police Box, but the circuit got stuck."

"What, so it turned into a real thing?" Said Mickey. "There really were Police Boxes?"

"Used to find 'em on street corners. Phone for help before they had mobiles and radios. If they arrested someone, they could lock 'em inside until help arrived. Sort of like a mini prison cell."

"If it's stuck, why don't you just fix the circuit?" Said Jack.

"I like it, don't you?" He shrugged.

"I love it." Rose smiled.

"But that's my point though." Said Mickey. "There's no Police boxes anymore. So doesn't it get noticed?"

"Mickey," He patted the man's shoulder. "Let me tell you something about the human race. You put a mysterious blue box slap-bang in the middle of a major population centre and what does everyone do? Walks past it, that's what. Just an odd thing to be ignored. Come on, let's have a look round."

"What do you fancy?" Said Rose.

"Dunno. Cardiff, early 21st century, and the wind's blowing from the... east. Trust me, safest place in the universe."

"This nuclear power station, right in the heart of Cardiff will bring jobs for all!" Margret announced to the assembled members of the press, who gave a round of applause. It was all too easy gaining human being's trust when you were from a galactic mafia family. Even the government had been too busy recovering from the loss of Downing street to notice what she was doing.

She picked up her microphone and walked over to the model of the city. "Now I have had to make some quite radical redevelopments to make way for the Blaidd Drwg project. Cardiff Castle will need to be demolished, allowing the project to rise up, tall and proud. A monument to Welsh industry!"

A photographer chose this moment to snap a picture of her. "I said no photographs!" She snapped at him, before realising she'd let her facade down for a moment and hurriedly composed herself. "Photograph the project if you will, but not me." She said a lot more sweetly. "Now, I understand that some of you may be worried. The words "nuclear power station" and "major population centre" aren't exactly the best of bedfellows. But I give you my personal guarantee: As long as I walk upon this Earth, not one of my citizens will be harmed." She raised a glass of Champaign. "A toast. To the future! And believe me. It will glow."

As the press applauded again, Margret downed her glass and made for the back exit, only for a press girl to stop her. "Excuse me, Mrs Blaine. My name's Cathy Salt. I represent The Cardiff Gazette..."

"I'm not doing interviews. I can't stand personal publicity." Too much and Harriet Jones descending upon her.

But Cathy was insistent. "But are you aware of the curse?"

That got her attention. "Curse? What are you talking about?"

"That's what some of your engineers are saying. That the Blaidd Drwg project is cursed."

"Sounds rather silly to me."

"That's what I thought, I was just absorbing some local colour. But the funny thing is, when you start piecing it together, it does seem rather odd."

"In what way?"

"The deaths! First of all, there was the entire team of European safety inspectors..."

"But they were French, it was hardly my fault if Danger, explosives was only written in Welsh." She made for the door again, but Cathy followed.

"And what about that accident with the Cardiff heritage committee?"

"The electrocution of that swimming pool was put down to natural wear and tear."

"The architect?"

"It was raining. Visibility was low. My car simply couldn't stop."

"And then just recently Mr Cleaver. The government's nuclear safety adviser..."

"Slipped on an icy patch."

"He was decapitated!"

"It was a very icy patch. Now, if you don't mind, these rumours are just typical small town thinking. I really must be getting on." She tried to go, but Cathy stepped in front of her.

"It's just that, before he died, Cleaver posted some of his findings online."

"Did he now?"

"If you know where to look. He was very concerned by the reactor design."

"All that technical stuff." Margret laughed.

"Specifically, that the design of the suppression pool would cause the hydrogen recombiners to fail, precipitating in the collapse in the containment isolation system and resulting in a meltdown."

Margret did her best to show as little comprehension as possible. "Someone's been doing her homework."

"It's my job, you see." Cathy smiled.

Margret smiled back. "I think, Cathy Salt, you and I should have a talk in private." She took the startled girl by the arm and led her out the door and down a corridor. "Sorry I was in a rush to leave, my tummy's complaining. I think we may need to take a detour to the ladies."

"I'll wait here." Cathy offered.

"No, come on. All girls together." She led the woman to her private toilet, which was at the end of a long passageway in a quiet part of the building. "So anyway. Tell me more of your outlandish theories." She said, stepping into the cubicle itself and shutting the door between them.

"Well, I'm not much with nuclear physics." Cathy said through the door. "But from what I could make out, Mr Cleaver was saying that there's a very strong chance the whole project could go up in smoke, worse than Chernobyl." She noticed a bright blue glow emanating from under the door. "Is there some problem with the lights?"

"Oh, they're always on the blink." Margret grinned as she peeled off the skin suit. "I can't tell you how many memos I've sent. So, Chernobyl?"

"Yes. But a thousand times worse. It's hard to imagine. There must be so many safety regulations, but Mr Cleaver was talking about nuclear holocaust. It's not exactly our job to look for these things, we're only The Cardiff Gazzete, but we still have a duty to report the facts."

Margret dropped the skin suit to the floor and stretched her clawed arms. "Are you going to print this information?"

Cathy noticed a change in her voice. "Are you alright?"

"Sore throat. But tell me, do you intend to make this information public?"

"I have to." Cathy shrugged.

"So be it." She snarled, raising her arm.