Hurray, finally! I'll try to get up at least one chapter each week, but this is entirely dependent on writer's block (a particularly nasty case of which I had yesterday) and also schoolwork and terrifying things like that.
But at least it isn't a year late or anything like that...
Doctor Maglect leant against the cryo- chamber in the middle of the room, running his hand through his fringe in shock. McSteven's and Quintus' questions seemed to fill the air, pressing in on him. He waved a hand at them, trying to signal for quiet.
And not just any Ice Warrior is missing, he thought, within the isolation of the inside of his eyelids. It's my prize specimen. Their leader. Or at least, what he took to be their leader: less armour than the others, with a more decorated helmet and cloak. And now- either running amok somewhere, or, even worse, lying akimbo on a rival scientist's dissecting table.
Professor Quintus strode around the chamber, his long white lab-coat billowing out behind him, taking control of the situation. "Now, look here. Who else knows about these extra chambers?"
Dr. Maglect took a breath to steady himself, then shrugged. "The workmen who built this and put the cryo- chambers in there, I suppose…" He glanced towards Quintus, sudden shock in his eyes. "I don't suppose…" he changed tack. "…I mean to say… UNIT has some rather advanced technology."
McStevens laughed unconvincingly. "Maybe, but what would UNIT want with an Ice Warrior all to themselves?"
Maglect looked at her witheringly. "I should imagine they would want it for quite a lot of things." He sighed, pushing his hair back with both hands. "I realise that this may seem very hypocritical to you, but…" he looked from one to the other. "Can we really trust UNIT?"
The following day was a very hectic one at the complex; technicians and scientists making final arrangements and adjufstments in the spacious lecture theatre, generally clashing with and getting in the way of the UNIT troops, who were, as one military machine, giving off the general impression of a smooth, well oiled and utterly primed organisation, but who were, in reality, frantically bustling around, filling time until the urgently needed reinforcements arrived on the scene from UNIT HQ.
Colonel Bardon sat ensconced in the comfortable prison of his office in an unused room of the complex, tapping his pen against the paper in front of him. No matter how often the duty had fallen to him, the registering of a death in his command never became a less painful experience. No matter for how long he stared at the blank paper, nothing came forth. His mind was locked off, focused on other things. Finally he gave a sigh of deep irritation, throwing down his pen and opening a drawer of his desk, pulling out a file. Flicking through the documents within, he stopped at a rough sketch of the menacing figure of an Ice Warrior. He stared at it grimly, as if trying to penetrate the pencilled mind of the image.
"Time to get some answers out of you," he said to the picture, and, throwing the file down on the desk, marched out of the office. He almost collided with Private Lamb, who, by the looks of things, had been anxiously hovering outside the door. Colonel Bardon, preoccupied with the slight headache at the epicentre of his general feeling of restlessness and uselessness, ignored the soldier. Lamb followed him uneasily.
"Colonel, I have to talk to you about what you ordered us to do, especially now McTavish is… well…"
"Can't it wait, Lamb?" said Bardon impatiently.
"Well, I don't think it can, sir. You see, I've been thinking-"
Bardon wheeled around, turning on the older man with a sharp retort on his lips, but was halted by the arrival in the corridor of Sergeant Drayle, who marched up to them and saluted.
"Corporal Marshall and the reinforcements have arrived, sir," she reported.
Bardon pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. "Erm… yes… the reinforcements. Er… fall them in, will you Sergeant? I…"
"Are you all right, sir?" enquired Drayle, taking hold of his arm, which immediately shook free of her grip.
"Yes, yes, of course I am, Drayle," snapped the CO, bustling off down the corridor. Lamb looked at Drayle bleakly, the veteran wondering how much longer UNIT could function with a group of inexperienced, uncooperative leaders who weren't willing to tell their troops basic facts.
As the effect of the sedatives finally filtered out of his system, Lord Nasskur wearily raised his head staring through his dazed red eyes at the figure who stood before him. Panicked, the Martian looked frantically around him. He appeared to be chained upright, in some grim- looking dark room.
A noise caused Nasskur to look up. Strange, soft but abrupt noises were coming out of the Earthling's mouth, and, with a rush of realisation and exasperation at the creature's stupidity, the Martian commander realised that it was trying to communicate with him.
"I do not speak your language," Nasskur snarled up at him. A sudden juddering noise emanating from a machine nearby caused Nasskur to jump, the chains twitching.
The Earthling continued to make his garbled noise. Nasskur gritted his teeth, but suddenly, from out of the mysterious machine came words- words in the Martian tongue. As the sentence rolled out of the machine, the Ice Lord realised that it was a translation of the strange figure's words.
"Do not struggle, Martian. You cannot escape, so do not try," the creature was saying.
Nasskur responded in his own language, correctly deducing that the machine would translate his words into the strange babble of Earth. "We mean you no harm. We are on a mission of exploration and colonisation. We did not expect to encounter intelligent life-"
The figure let out a short laugh. "You still don't realise, do you? You, my friend, and your ship, have been sealed within the ice, kept suspended there, for 100,000 years."
Nasskur drew back a little. He briefly considered that the figure- he?- she? It was impossible to tell- was lying, but, he had to admit, it was the most logical conclusion, given the lack of intelligent life other than the primitive hominids found by the first few missions to Earth. His next thought was for-
"Mars?"
The figure laughed unkindly. "A dead world. There's no one to help you now."
Nasskur clenched his claws in frustration, venting his rage in a hoarse bellow which reminded him how thirsty and hungry he was.
"So… what do you plan to do with me?" the Martian finally said, defeat lacing his voice.
And so the Earthling told him. And then Nasskur began screaming.
It was the next day. The Sun was once again hanging low in the sky as depressed- looking soldiers directed cars in a lacklustre fashion into the complex's car park. Almost as soon as Sir Hector's car had halted, the Doctor bounded forth, his thumb vigorously stroking the lapel of his jacket as he looked around at the cloud- haloed mountains and the contrasting bland shape of the complex buildings. Shoving his other hand into the pocket of the suit trousers that he had replaced his kilt with, he stared after the marching backs of a pair of soldiers that had just passed by, glaring intently at them until Sir Hector tugged at his shoulder, pulling him away. The Doctor abruptly spun around, talking before the old man had even had a chance to open his mouth.
"Yes, you're right; no time to stand here dawdling; let's find the entrance and get on with this."
Sir Hector frowned. "But are you sure you're well enough for this, Doctor?"
The Doctor shook his shoulders irritably. "I'm fine. The regeneration should just about have stabilised now." He smiled faintly at Sir Hector's brief look of incomprehension, then, brushing down his tartan waistcoat, marched off towards the entrance, Sir Hector plodding steadily in his wake.
At the entrance, Private Dolbé was giving thef guests' invitations cursory glances with a bored, glazed look on his face. He gave a brief smile to Jenny as she passed by, but the young woman did not return the acknowledgement, instead staring out through the doors with an expression of disbelief. Private Keats marched through the door rubbing his chilled hands, only to be accosted immediately by Jenny, who pushed him in the direction of the main hall.
"Fetch the Colonel. Quickly!" she ordered. No sooner had he left than the automatic doors swung open to admit a tall man in a black suit, frilled shirt and tartan waistcoat, followed by a large, wheezing old man.
With a small, triumphant smile on his face, the former made a mock half- bow to Jenny.
"Hello, again," the Doctor said, before swinging around to face Dolbé. "Right, is this where we sign in?" Without warning, he swung back to Jenny. "I have got an invitation, before you ask, so, here I am, ready for the magical mystery tour, so now if you'll kindly tell me-" he took Sir Hector's invitation from his pocket and slammed it down on the desk without looking at it. "-What the hell is going on?"
At that moment, Colonel Bardon, Captain Ceylon and Sergeant Drayle appeared, led by Private Keats. Bardon stared in amazement at the Doctor, while Drayle looked at the Doctor in apprehension, and behind her Ceylon glared coldly at the Time Lord.
"I do not believe it…" murmured the Colonel.
"Aha!" said the Doctor, striding up to them with an expression of dislike on his face. One of these people almost certainly tried to kill me, he thought. He gave a glance at Bardon's shoulder as if it were somehow offensive. "Colonel. What's the situation?"
Bardon stared down at him, making use of all of the two inches advantage that he had over him. "Now, look here-"
The Doctor stared about him blankly. "Where?"
Suddenly, he caught sight of an inconspicuous pair of doors with No Entry printed on them. "Aha!" beamed the Doctor, and marched off towards them.
"You can't go through there!" protested Private Keats impotently. The Doctor spoke to him through gritted teeth without looking at him.
"Well, if you won't tell me what's going on, I'll just have to find out for myself, won't I?"
"Ice Warriors," Ceylon suddenly blurted.
The Doctor slowly turned to him, triumph marked on his face. "Now that's more like it," he said.
Doctor Maglect stood on the stage, polishing down his operating table. He looked up at the clattering of feet down the stairs into the auditorium, and found himself confronted by the intense glare of the Doctor, who was being followed by Bardon, Ceylon, Drayle, Jenny, and, rather more slowly, Sir Hector.
"Who the dickens are you?" asked Professor Quintus, staring indignantly up at the group as he strode onto the stage.
"Not important," retorted the Doctor, leaping up onto the stage from the bottom few steps. He strode right up to Maglect, who stared back at him stubbornly. "Where is it?" he demanded.
Maglect's head snapped around towards the Colonel. "Bardon!" he shouted accusingly. "How did this man find out-"
"Shut up!" snapped the Doctor. "Where is it?" he asked again, authority ringing in his voice.
"Downstairs. It'll be brought on in its cryo-chamber, thawed out, and revived by Doctor Maglect on the table," supplied Jenny, clambering up onto the stage.
Qunitus rounded on her. "I say, you had no right to tell him-"
"Thank you kindly," interrupted the Doctor, who was now pacing up and down. Suddenly, he stopped, turning on her again. "What was your name?"
"Jenny Donague, UNIT's public liaison officer," explained Jenny, gasping as she got her breath back.
"Thank you, Jenny," said the Doctor, giving her a brief smile, which just as abruptly vanished again as he continued pacing. "So, fill me in. Where did you find the Warrior?"
Bardon chewed his lip, before finally replying, "Its ship was discovered trapped deep inside the ice, in a hidden cave on the far side of Ben Nevis."
"Oh, right, right," nodded the Doctor cheerfully. "So, that gives you the right to, without warning, revive the poor thing in front of a gawping audience like it was an exhibit at a freak show, without knowing a thing about its biology?" His lip curled. "You've progressed so little since the nineteenth century that I should have let you all blow up then."
"Enough!" bellowed Maglect. "Colonel, have you no control over members of the public? Take this man away!"
Bardon clapped a firm hand down on the Doctor's shoulder. "Come along, now, Doctor."
The Doctor tried to shake the hand off, but it was strong and full of meaning. Colonel Bardon tightened the grip even further, causing the Doctor to wince.
"All right, I'm coming," muttered the Doctor, allowing himself to be propelled from the stage, just as Sir Hector finally arrived, clutching his chest.
The old knight stared in dismay as the others walked past him again. "We're going all the way up again?"
"Oh, all right, Sir Hector can take his seat now," muttered Professor Quintus, taking pity on the old man. "But the rest of you, clear off!"
Once outside the lecture hall, Bardon finally released the Doctor, who turned on him.
"Look, do you want my help or not?" the Time Lord demanded furiously.
"Yes, but not your help in making a fool of yourself!" retorted the Colonel. "Now look, all we know about the Ice Warriors in what was in the brief report on them made by you. We know that some are friendly and some are aggressive. All we wanted to know is… which is this one?"
The Doctor slowly looked at the Colonel, true horror deep within his eyes. "My God…" he sneered, disgusted. "What, did you really think I could just stroll in here, take one glance at the creature you're about to butcher, and then just swan off again?" He frowned, aghast. "Good grief, what, did you think that all the "nice" Ice Warriors were a different shade of green from all the "nasty" Ice Warriors?" Neither looked away for several seconds, before the Doctor abruptly turned away, muttering "Get out of my sight," and stumping away towards the bar.
Colonel Bardon glared haughtily at the retreating back, before yelling "Seize him!" Keats leapt readily to grab the Doctor, who gave a shout of indignation.
"Sir-" began Sergeant Drayle in protest.
Jenny, however, beat her to it. "Sir, you can't do this!"
Bardon looked a little ashamed. "I've no choice. I can't risk my job by letting him run amok."
"Oh, stuff your job!" shouted Jenny.
"You can't talk to your commanding officer like that!" yelled Bardon. Both had just opened their mouths to continue bellowing, but at that moment, a siren rang through the air, and distinguished- looking guests began filtering through from the bar.
"I'll speak to you later," growled Bardon, before marching off towards the auditorium, gesturing to Keats and Dolbé to bring the Doctor with them.
Dr McStevens watched calmly as Corporal Marshall and Private Ashworth wheeled the cryo- chamber, now battery operated, out of the room and down the bland corridor towards the lift.
Making a note on her clipboard, she prepared to follow, but a sudden impulse held her back. Making quite sure that there was nobody around any more, she shut the door. Resting the clipboard on the clean floor, she stared at the wall, behind which she knew stood five dormant Martians. Finally, her scientific eagerness won. She just had to see them again. Hurrying to the control, she activated the false wall, causing it to slide aside, revealing the six secret stasis pods. McStevens stood back, allowing the awe of the moment to wash over her.
Suddenly, she frowned. She was an observant woman, and something simply did not ring true to her. She stared at the chambers through narrowed eyes. Finally, she realised what it was.
Silence.
And that could only mean-
She marched quickly over to the wall, cursorily examining each pod. And then she stepped back, very, very carefully.
None of the chambers were connected to any power supply.
She had just backed up to a wall adjacent to the wall that housed the chambers, when-
Smash. A massive, solid- looking claw crashed through the covering of the farthest chamber, followed by a second, which shattered the misty, transparent surface altogether. As McStevens flattened herself against the wall in terror, the next casing fractured and collapsed under the weight of mighty blows from within, fuelled by the rage of the very much awake creatures. And the next. And the next. Finally, the casing nearest to her burst apart, and a roaring, snarling, heavily armoured, huge figure lunged forth, shaking its great fists before it…
Doctor Maglect looked up at his audience and smiled. "Ladies and Gentlemen. Honoured guests. The show is about to begin…"
Well, I'm quite proud of that. Except the obvious bit where I had writer's block (around the start of the second 'scene').
Well, see you for the next chapter in a week. Or a year. Or whenever. Definitely by the time there's an actual thirteenth Doctor on TV.