Chapter 22

-oo00oo-

"You don't really think those are dragons, do you?" Jo asked, leaning against the lab door as the Doctor locked the TARDIS and scooped his driving cloak from the coat rack.

"Not in the traditional sense, no. They could be any number of things; unusual animals, intelligent life-forms, trans-dimensional or trans-temporal anomalies, perhaps even simple old-fashioned smoke and mirrors…" He pulled his cloak over his shoulders and shrugged.

"Trans-anomaly what?"

"Trans-temporal anomaly. If there were something interfering with Time, it's plausible it could be a dinosaur. At least those would be a legitimate part of Earth's history."

Jo shook her head. "Sounds pretty farfetched to me. Of course the whole thing sounds farfetched."

"Well, I didn't say it was plausible, only possible," he noted as they headed down the hallway. "Very, very minutely. There haven't been any indications of it being time-related, but it never hurts to cover all options."

"I think you'll be disappointed if it isn't."

-oo00oo-

Back in the Brigadier's office, someone else was thinking what he was hearing was pretty farfetched as well.

"You need me to spy?" John Babcock was asking in disbelief. He had to admit he was also feeling a little flattered and sat up straighter in his chair unconsciously.

"No, not quite espionage," the Brigadier said dryly. "Just gathering information, observing. We need to know if there's been any other odd requests for unusual or technologically advanced items, bulk orders out of the ordinary and so on. The reports will be processed and compiled here by my regular staff."

"And this information," the man asked. "It's safeguarded?"

"Your contributions will be kept completely anonymous, assuming you do not foolishly announce yourself to the media. We would deny our part in such an eventuality, you understand."

He nodded but looked a bit suspicious. "And none of this is to be used for any other purpose?"

"Look here," the Brigadier said seriously, leaning forward on his desk. "We aren't the enemy. We're not in the service of any enemy of Britannia. In fact," he noted, "We've saved her more than once. We need your services."

"Then I'll do everything in my power to meet that expectation," Babcock nodded bravely.

"Look these over and sign then, if you will Mr. Babcock," the Brigadier instructed, laying a few sheets of papers before him. "This will instate you as a temporary and severely limited operative under the auspices of UNIT. It means you are not to do anything whatsoever without my express direction."

"I understand," he said, reaching for a pen. If anyone could spot criminals and con-men, he thought, it was John Babcock, former auditor, aide-about-town. The world needed him.

"Doctor Smith," he said conversationally as he signed and dated the forms. "What did he mean by 'dragon hunting'?"

"Oh, there's been some odd occurrences lately," the Brigadier said vaguely. "Probably nothing to be concerned about. He and Miss Grant are going to gather some additional information for us."

Babcock signed the last paper. "Taking that car of his on an outing?"

"I suppose." Lethbridge-Stewart seemed slightly preoccupied. Babcock noted the map he was looking at and the bits of intriguing coloured tape with markings stuck to it. What were they marking, anyway? There were several of whatever it was.

"There you are," he said, tapping the papers even and handing them over. "All signed. I suppose this makes it official? Is there anything else you'll be needing of me today?"

The Brigadier took the papers and tucked them into a file folder, extending a hand in a firm shake. "Welcome to UNIT, Mr. Babcock. No, nothing else needed today, but we'll be contacting you. I'll have someone escort you out."

Down in the car park, Babcock sat in his sedan and considered this strange turn of events in his otherwise relatively mundane life. A UNIT operative! His generously portioned common sense was not a little surprised to discover himself being in such a seemingly exotic element. A spy! He looked at his own eyes in the rear-view mirror of his car as if expecting that interview would have changed him in some way. Did it show? His brown eyes looked disappointingly the same, but he did note a flash of yellow passing behind him.

Turning his head, he watched as UNIT's Scientific Advisor - did that make him his Scientific Advisor too? If they were both reporting directly to the Brigadier did that make them peers? - and his young assistant rolled out of the lot in that intriguing customized car. Going 'dragon-hunting.' Going somewhere important enough to be marked in coloured tape with numbers.

Shifting into gear, he took the sedan out of the lot and followed them.

-oo00oo-

The Doctor and Jo drove on, taking the roads north toward Leicester at a leisurely pace. The air had an autumn chill but not uncomfortably so, and the occasional rare bit of sunlight would break through the clouds to light up the landscape with that unique brilliance that was so underappreciated in sunnier climes. Their only stop was in pausing at a small shop for sandwiches, Jo having correctly pointed out they'd never gotten anything in the way of luncheon before so suddenly going off across the countryside.

The shop was small but there were vinyl-strap chairs on the old wooden patio and tiny round tables to sit at. The Doctor pulled a couple chairs over to one while Jo placed their order. A middle-aged woman struggled with two strong-willed children at the far end, and at another a man with his hat pulled down over his ears against the breeze was just sitting down. He unfolded a newspaper to read, propping it up in front of himself in spite of the way the pages kept flapping over.

"Here we are," Jo said, setting a plastic tray down with two plates of sandwiches and a salad. She sat down and took up a fork to go after the salad, leaving her mentor to tackle the sandwiches on his own.

They ate in companionable silence for a few moments. The shop workers faintly clanked dishes inside, traffic hummed. The beleaguered woman paid her tab and went off, leaving a number of napkins blowing about as she towed her squabbling children behind her. The man in the hat turned a page of his newspaper.

"So," Jo said, rolling the cherry tomatoes she disliked over to her tablemate, who automatically swapped them for the dill pickle wedge she preferred that had come with his own dish. "Just how far are we going?"

"A bit farther north," the Doctor said, somehow managing to speak clearly in spite of his mouth being full, "but not into the city itself."

"What if it doesn't show up?"

"Then we'll go on to the next one."

"Which you've no doubt plotted out as well?"

"Unless the pattern changes, yes."

They both concentrated on their meal for a few more minutes, then Jo finished her salad and sat back as the waiter came by their table, handing the Doctor the bill with a respectful air and a smile that faded somewhat when it was simply handed across to Jo who reached for her purse.

The man accepted her money with a brief nod, directed an icy frown at the oblivious Doctor and gathered up her empty plate as he went back to his work.

Jo picked up the pickle wedge and nibbled it with irritation. "Did you see that?"

The Doctor, finishing off his second sandwich, tipped his head at his assistant curiously. "See what?"

"That waiter. Not the first time I've seen that look, and not just with you. I hate it how they always assume the man is the one in charge, the one with the money. You'd think women were never allowed to have their own income," she groused. "I mean! What do they think we do all day? Sit around wearing gowns and watching coffee percolate?"

He sat back in his chair and cocked a brow at her. "The Sergeant makes excellent coffee," he noted. "Though I think he would object if it required a gown."

She waved the end of the pickle at him mock-warningly. "I'm just trying to tell you…"

"That women are frequently underestimated, underappreciated and generally misunderstood?" He popped the last of her cherry tomatoes in his mouth.

Jo gave him an exasperated smile. "Oh, never mind. And here I was just working up to a good stirring feminist speech."

"I didn't know you had it in you," he returned with good humour. "I do hope none of that stirring speech was intended for my own personal benefit?"

"I suppose you have asked me to make tea," she pointed out.

"Ah. Well, nevertheless I assure you, my dear, you're quite appreciated. And," he said getting to his feet, "It's time we were on our way."

They walked to their parking place along the road where he gallantly handed her into the car and went around to the driver's side.

"See, now that doesn't bother me," said Jo.

"What doesn't?"

"Your helping me into the car. I just feel, I don't know… Cared about instead of patronized. There are men who do the same thing and it feels just horribly patronizing. Does that make sense?"

The Doctor briefly adjusted the side mirror. "There's a difference between taking care of something because it's valuable and taking care because it's flimsy," he said.

"Yes. That's it," she said. "Though I'm not sure I like the idea that I could be considered flimsy."

"Because it wouldn't be true. Not an appropriate descriptive at all," he said and maneuvered out into the afternoon traffic.

Back at the café the man in the hat had put down his newspaper and followed in what he fancied was a very unobtrusive spy-like manner. Leaving the tab on the table he quickly but casually walked to his own vehicle and followed suit. He knew the Doctor was no fool and could lose him if he realized he was being traced, so he was cautious in working his way forward and grateful for the bright yellow shining out among the more conservative vehicles on the road ahead. His confidence growing, he slowly fell back in the line of cars.

Falling back almost made him miss his quarry; his mind had begun to wander as he drove so that he nearly missed it when they turned off onto the road towards Melton-Mowbray, heading out across the countryside.

-oo00oo-

"Here we are," the Doctor announced, turning the car onto the grassy shoulder of the road. "Positively bucolic, isn't it?" They were just outside the small town of Lowesby, its buildings having quickly given way to the open farming fields, beyond which they could just see a small green-grey river shining among its thick bordering grasses. Interspersed along the way were neat hedgerows and copses of autumn-ragged trees that lined the road. It was very quiet.

"Why here and not back in the town itself?" wondered Jo. "For that matter, why such a small town? Do you think it could be shy of people?"

"So far the creature, or whatever it is, seems to prefer open spaces away from major population centres - but not entirely isolated." The Doctor settled back in his seat, his eyes scanning the area around them. "All of the reports have been from areas like this, just outside of larger cities. And here, you'll note, there are still some trees for cover. Also they've been consistently been on whatever side of the town is nearest London, sure as a weathercock."

"But how did you figure it would be this road?"

"Simple topography, Jo. Didn't you look at the map? Anyway, I propose we settle here. You can get out and stretch your legs if you like, we've a good quarter hour to spare."

He glanced in the mirror, watching as a grey-black sedan approached then pulled off into one of the driveways that edged the fields. A flock of swallows flew past, swooping low over the grasses to catch insects. After a few moments of quiet, Jo restlessly climbed out of the car and wandered up and down the verge, running her hands over dry stems and letting the bits of seed drop through her fingers.

"Doctor," she asked as she came back up to the car, "What if…"

A movement caught the corner of her eye and something she could have only described as a dragon stepped out of the woods.

-oo00oo-