Geneva Connection
Despite the official's (Lowe had discovered his name – something unpronounceable to the English tongue) assurance that they would "talk on rail", it was an few hours before they got around to anything. It was still Sunday afternoon when they helped Lowe and Catherine to load hastily packed trunks onto the train, yet Catherine, shocked and scared, declared that she wanted a rest. So, as she slept in her sleep, Lowe lost money to the two officials, who seemed to have a good grasp of the skill of poker.
The carriage they were in was empty, save for some old man down the other end, who glanced up disapprovingly every time Lowe swore loudly (which, considering his card-playing skill left something to be desired, was reasonably often). From time to time Lowe would turn to watch the bleakness of the Siberian countryside scuttle past them.
It was night when Catherine finally awoke, Lowe dozing over the Sunday Telegraph, kindly provided, somehow, from one of the Russian's bags. His mind was nominally on the crossword, but it seemed to be wandering to the topic of what Mendeleev (his Russian assistant, not the late chemist) was doing now, now that the two people in charge (and with all the money) had been carted off by some government officials.
A groan from Catherine indicated she was awake. She glanced around for a moment, regaining the knowledge of where exactly she was, glared at Lowe sitting next to her (she had a habit of doing that) and stretched herself into sitting upright. The Russian who could speak English sat up, finished his cigarette and busied himself into collecting all his paperwork together, from the mess he'd concocted across the table. The other official, more well-built and less well-taught-in-English, was asleep, and there seemed little reason to wake him. The first official pulled his notebook in front of him and a pen out of his breast pocket.
'Ve need to talk, quickly. I do not vant to rush you,' he said, oblivious of the contradiction that suggested. 'This may be very important. Please.'
Catherine must have regained her senses by then, as she had started to move things about quickly, making sure they were in the perfect order, the way women do. She had produced the small vial of alien from under her cloak, and it was now sitting on the table. The official eyed it with interest.
'You haf a sample?' he asked. I could forgive him for stating the obvious.
'Yes.' Catherine had a habit of stating the obvious, too.
'That is good. Haf you tested it?'
'Yes.' Catherine had a wad of paper from her hand luggage on the table.
'May I look?' She pushed the pack over, and the official flicked through the pages with interest. He jotted down a note every moment or so, in his notebook.
Lowe felt slightly left out. 'What is it about?'
'The alien,' said Catherine, in her stupid-boy voice. 'I did a few experiments on it overnight, and that shows the raw results.'
'Experiments? Like what? Why didn't you tell me earlier?'
'Because you didn't really care, as far as I could tell, if you could understand,' said Catherine, off-handedly. She had a habit of making Lowe feel stupid. 'But the experiments said a lot about the alien. It seems to be organic-based, at least, it seems to be made of sugar, but some of the chemicals are vastly different to anything I've ever seen before. And it has some strange electrical properties. It gives off a low current, and some sort of signal, and seems to have affection for consuming electricity.'
'I thought it was dead?' said Lowe, mildly confused.
'Yes, but it is still working, like nerve-endings in animals after they've died, leaving them twitching for a few minutes. It just seems to take its time to switch off.'
'Excuse me, yes,' said the official, suddenly. 'Do you have copy on computer of datas?' He was talking, unsurprisingly, to Catherine.
'Yes,' was the response, and Catherine was standing up, pushing Lowe out of his seat so she could get to her suitcase, from which she extracted her laptop. The official had extracted his from somewhere, too. Lowe felt a bit left out, without a computer now perched in front of him on the table. Catherine passed a memory stick across the table after a few moments, and the official set about doing whatever he was doing with the data.
'Erm…' started Lowe. 'Can I ask exactly why we're going to Moscow? Sorry, I'm just a bit confused about what exactly we've got ourselves into.'
'A moment,' said the official, and he was typing something. Then he looked up. 'I haf requested a meeting with Geneva. It vill start at eight evening, which gives me minutes to tell you of problems.'
He looked a bit troubled for a moment. 'You haf found alien, no? That is problem. Because there is alien under ice. That is problem, because alien is bad. And we cannot collect samples, because NATUR are bad too, and they stop anybody researching with the ice.'
'Why weren't we stopped?' asked Catherine.
'You were. They do not work officially, they prefer rob and steal and break. They damage your centre. We need take you to Moscow, as government needs information on NATUR. And we now know there is alien, too, because of what Miss Catherine has been telling us.' Lowe didn't know when Catherine had been talking to the official, but he guessed it was when he was collecting his vast stash of magazines from his apartment. They had certainly got to the car before him.
'I vink, as you have sample, NATUR come for you. Now we need to go quickly. I hope ve have not caused you troubled, and you vill be save.' Something beeped from his computer. 'Miss Catherine can connect to meeting, too.' He jotted down a URL and passed it over. 'Password is Pluto. Like planet.' Catherine started typing something.
'Who is the meeting with?' asked Lowe.
'UNIT. Alien hunters. United Nat-.' The official stopped, slightly disturbed by something. 'Unified Intelligence Taskforce. Worldwide. Got links and datas, and we need reference. We think alien may be threat.'
It was eight. The meeting was due to begin.
---
The narrative now takes us to Geneva, and to two UNIT personnel, an officer and a scientist. Compared with the people on the train, sitting and typing, this end of the meeting was frantic and almost panicky. They had a team behind them, checking and comparing the data. They might have had high-tech computer systems, but not all information had been transferred, so they needed a horde of people on the case.
The reason this case had been transferred to high importance was because it was directly related to Operation Pluto and the NATUR file, a problem that UNIT had been trying, in vain, to ignore.
'Fill me in on Operation Pluto, Frau Warner,' said the American, large and intimidating.
'Well, officer,' began the lady, not old but with a sharp aura of competency that suggested she had worked for more hours than many would in their entire life. She spoke her English as well as she spoke her German, crisp and properly, without the flaws that social gatherings can bring. 'Operation Pluto. Operation Pluto.' She pondered how to directly answer the American's question for a moment, before seemingly settling on the best course of action.
'Pluto is not an operation in your sense, officer. There are no soldiers, no direct investigations, none of your James Bonds. It is merely a series of strange geological quirks, possibly extra-terrestrial in origin, that have eluded investigation and examination.'
'I'm not quite getting you. Why isn't this being investigated properly, instead of relying on the reports of two Brits who don't have a clue what they're involved in?' asked the Officer, raising his voice slightly. The counter on his computer ticked to 4:00. The meeting was due to begin.
'You don't seem to have much of a clue either, sir, so don't use that tone. It is like your Bermuda Triangle, say, with strange readings and mysterious disappearances, except we don't know the cause and all we know is that it is centred underneath the Siberian ice.' She typed something. A message flashed up on the Officers computer, and simultaneously on the two laptops on the Russian train.
--[JWarner] Are we all ready to begin?
A moment passed, then two more messages flashed up, near simultaneously.
--[DButyrskaya] Da
--[CRoberts[Guest]] yup
'Can you explain to me about the NATUR file, then?' asked the American, sensing he was going to get little more out of Frau Warner on Operation Pluto. She finished what she was typing before looking at him.
--[JWarner] I am Frau Warner of UNIT. Also here is Lieutenant General Ray of the military branch of the United Nation Intelligence Taskforce.
--[JWarner] *Unified Intelligence Taskforce.
--[JWarner] Any information transferred in this meeting is classified and is not allowed to be spread without expressed permission of UNIT. Only Mr. Burtyskaya of the alien branch of the Russian government, his colleague Mr. Eltzov and the two British scientists, Dr. Roberts and Prof. Lowe are allowed to partake in this meeting, other than members of the Unified Intelligence Taskforce.
'NATUR are a Russian terrorist group,' explained Frau Warner. 'Or that is what they appear to be. There is no direct evidence of any wrongdoings, but they seem to be able to prevent any research into Operation Pluto. The two British scientists seem to have evidence linking them directly to it.'
'Are they Soviet or something?'
'They claim they were set up during the Socialist Regime in the twentieth century -' (Ray muttered something, presumably negative, about Soviet politics) '- and claim they are a policing force that has never been disbanded. But we have evidence linking them back further than that, we raided the Torchwood Archives and found references to a NATUR dating back to the late 19th Century, and there have been reports of a hostile defensive group in Siberia almost since the dawn of writing.'
--[DButyrskaya] I have sent copies of doctor Roberts data.
--[JWarner] Yes, it is being printed off and processed now. Thank you.'
'Why is this all so important now?' asked Ray.
'Because… This is all very hush-hush, please don't tell anyone. Two UNIT soldiers were found, shot, in Northern Siberia yesterday evening, sixty miles from where the two Brits were based. We think it was NATUR. They are not normally so hostile, which either suggests it wasn't them; the soldiers had found out something they shouldn't; or that NATUR are suddenly very scared. And the sample that the scientists have found may suggest the latter.'
'Do they still have the sample?' asked Ray.
'Yes, which is why it is important to get them here.'
'Do they know they are coming?'
Frau Warner smiled a businesswoman's smile, the sort that thrives on manipulation. 'Not yet.'
--[JWarner] Is the sample still in testable condition?
--[JWarner] And safe?
--[CRoberts[Guest]] yes. it hasnt been opened outside the lab.
--[JWarner] Hmm… It would be good if I could see that sample.
--[JWarner] Mr Butyrskaya, could you arrange it to be set to UNIT?
--[CRoberts[Guest]] i can bring it. looks like were going home anyway.
'Voila,' said Frau Warner, switching to the third language she was fluent in, just for a brief moment.
--[DButyrskaya] I can arrange a flight of Moscow. Where do you want them to go? Geneva?
--[JWarner] I think it would be best for us to meet in London.
'London, England,' she added for the benefit of the American.
'Are you mocking me?' he asked, his voice raised.
'Not at all.'
--[CRoberts[Guest]] i dont want to be any trouble.
--[JWarner] No trouble, it is all in hand.
--[DButyrskaya] Give me a bit.
--[DButyrskaya] I must contact my superior on flights.
A young lady, blonde with tied back hair, handed Lieutenant General Ray a large wad of paper, emblazoned with the title "Pluto: Alien Data". The efficiency of UNIT failed to come as much of a surprise to him anymore, he was more concerned with eying up the girl, who now walked back to the milling hordes of workers.
He flicked through the sheets. Chemical composition, interesting electrical outputs, potential climates, lifespan, time of death, intelligence, resistance to testing… And some strange signals given off, at which Ray grimaced slightly.
'For a non-alien biologist, she seems to know what she is doing,' said Ray, almost appreciatively.
'Pardon? Oh, most of the data she gave was raw. We've just converted it into a useable format?'
'In what, ten minutes?' asked Ray. Frau Warner nodded. Another thought struck him. 'Are we now in charge of this operation? You and me, I mean.'
'Yes, in practice. I control it all and you control the boys with guns if we need them.'
'Good.' There was something almost malicious in his voice. He had a thing about guns.
--[DButyrskaya] They can get them to London Heathrow for 19:00 UTC Monday evening.
--[JWarner] We will meet them there.
--[DButyrskaya] Unfortunately I am not free to come with them. Can you ensure their security from entrance into Britain? They come by public flight.
--[JWarner] They will be given a full, military escort.
--[JRay] Sure, people. They'll be safe.
--[CRoberts[Guest]] isnt that a bit far?
--[JWarner] I forget that humour doesn't always work on the internet. But you'll have a security guard or two.
'Nice of you to join the conversation,' noted Frau Warner, and the American smiled.
--[JWarner] We will get you a hotel in the city centre. Do you and the professor want separate rooms?
--[CRoberts[Guest]] yes
--[CRoberts[Guest]] defniately.
--[JRay] Tell me, the signals you found given off, could you make any trace of what the signal was about?
--[CRoberts[Guest]] no. it wasnt normal em signals either.
--[CRoberts[Guest]] y?
--[JRay] Just wondered.
--[JWarner] Look, I think this is fairly fruitless continuing this today. We'll meet up on Monday, do some proper tests on the sample, and see what we're fighting.
--[JWarner] Thank you.
--[DButyrskaya] Thank you also.
--[CRoberts[Guest]] ta
Names clicked off on the messaging programme. Not a long conversation then, and seemingly generally fruitless.
'Michèle!' called Frau Warner. 'Réservez deux cartes au Londres, merci. En train. Première classe. Dès que possible.'
'Bien sûr, Madame,' said the blonde girl Officer Ray had noticed earlier. There was a lull in the activity. The girl came back, ten minutes later, with a pair of tickets and a large file. 'Il depart à environ six heures.' She mumbled something else, which Ray didn't catch (his French being up to little as it was).
'What did she say?' he asked as she skipped away. Frau Warner seemed concerned about something, probably the file she had just been handed.
'We have a match. With the alien.' She suddenly stood up, slipped the file into her bag and started to clear her desk. 'We have a train to catch. I'll explain as we walk.'
They left the main UNIT headquarters quarter of an hour later, after navigating long corridors and tedious numbers of security checks. It led directly onto La Gare de Cornavin, through what appeared, from the outside, to be a dusty, rotting door, marked 'Staff Only' (in French). They hadn't managed to talk as they walked down, Frau Warner had been on the phone the whole way, arranging accommodation and other necessities, while Officer Ray had hummed along to some lyricless melody he had his head. As they sat down on a bench, watching a train pull into the station, two men in black came up to them, pulling a large suitcase each.
'Merci,' said Frau Warner, genially, and the men left. Ray looked confused. 'Our luggage,' she explained.
'Oh,' said Ray, things becoming slightly clearer. He felt self-conscious in a suit, surrounded by more casually dressed businessmen and academics and sightseers, he preferred military clothes. It made him look more intimidating.
Frau Warner pulled out the file. 'We found a match,' she said, simply, and Ray knew this would be important. 'There's no hoping that this alien is harmless now.' She flicked through the pages. '1902, perfect alien match. Big explosions, lots of dead people, yet no known cause. We'll need to both read this on the train.' She passed him the file. It wasn't thick, but it seemed full of text and complicated diagrams. "The Fang Rock Massacre: Official Report" was stamped on the front, underneath the old UNIT logo (before the problems with the UN). Maybe this would tell them what they were up against.
