Notes: More domestic for the Smith family as Rose hones her telepathy skills.

Torchwood start to put the pieces together as the evening shift find some answers.

Alistair finds his niche and starts to impress. (So much for not getting noticed and blending in)

The Doctor and Rose go to DSTL to investigate and confront the base commander.

Chapter 6

John was roused from his slumber by the feel of gentle breath on the back of his neck. It was 23 minutes before the alarm would go off and Rose was spooning him from behind with her arm draped across his waist. 'What a wonderful way to wake up' he sleepily thought.

He gently pushed his bum backwards into her lap, causing her to stir and mumble. In that pleasantly drowsy state between sleep and wakefulness, she instinctively pulled him close. John breathed a sigh of pleasure and rolled onto his back.

After an early morning session of bedroom gymnastics, John reached over and switched the alarm off. "Mmmm. Y'know, whichever of me said that they didn't do domestic was an idiot. No, seriously. They had no idea what they were missing," he said as Rose started to laugh.

They just lay there, basking in the warmth of their love for one another, he underneath and she on top. He gently ran one hand up and down her spine, whilst she played with her second favourite part of him, and ran her fingers through his hair.

"Can you 'feel' EJ?" he asked her. "With all those happy chemicals in your brain at the moment, it's an ideal time to practice."

Rose smiled and closed her eyes, reaching out in her imagination. "Hah! He's dreaming! I can see random images," she said excitedly. "Oh bless. I can see me... and you, Tony and Mum." She lay there resting her head on John's chest while sensing her son's dreams.

It soon came to the time when the alarm would have gone off. Rose reluctantly climbed off her husband and allowed him to get out of bed. They headed for the en suite for a recreational shower.

After their very enjoyable shower, and having put some clothes on, they fell into their morning routine. Rose went to get EJ, while John went to make breakfast. After breakfast, Rose put the things her Mum would need into the baby bag and they set off for the day.

"Right people, listen up. There have been some developments overnight," Andy McNab said as Blue Watch congregated around the media screens. He used a remote to bring up information on the screen.

"Our medics took Janet Parkes to Republican Hope and overnight her condition deteriorated. Despite all attempts to save her, she passed away in the early hours and is now a zombie." He clicked the remote again to bring up additional information.

"Two members of Green Watch went with the counsellors to the families of Anthony Fisher and Philip Coyne. They were obviously very upset at the news."

The room fell silent as the Watch thought about what the families must be going through.

"One interesting lead came from the Coyne family. He has a sister, Linda who married one Alan Thomas. It turns out that Linda Thomas works at Porton Down and has disappeared."

"Ah-ha! So that's the connection," John said.

"Yes. Irish and Welsh, I want you to hook up with a Detective Constable Wells and see what you can find out about Linda Thomas and her relationship with her brother."

"We're on it," Stuart Sinclair and Pete Davies acknowledged.

"Okay. Yesterday evening, Green Watch started going over the arrest record of Nicholas 'Fishy' Fisher. He was arrested soon after attempting to steal from the house of Alan and Linda Thomas. Her brother Philip Coyne interrupted him when he came to visit."

"Where was she if her brother was expecting her to be there?" Clive 'Bart' Simpson asked.

"She was at the police station, reporting a theft from her car by guess who?" Andy said.

"Fisher?" Jack asked.

"Any idea where Linda Thomas is now?" John asked with concern in his voice. He didn't like the way this was heading.

Andy clicked the remote again. "When Green Watch got this information, they sent a team out to interview her. The house was empty and neighbours said her husband is working away for a couple of weeks. The police are trying to contact him now, it may be she's gone to stay with him."

"That sounds reasonable," Rose commented.

"The neighbours also said that Coyne waited for his sister to come home and left some time later. Thomas left around 22:30 and never returned. Peg and Van, I'd like you to check traffic cameras and CCTV and see if you can find her car. "

"Okay boss," Jake said.

"Bart and John Boy, I want you to join them and check CCTV for Nicholas Fisher. We know when and where he grabbed the bag from Thomas's car, see if you can trace his movements and who he came into contact with."

"No problem," Clive 'Bart' Simpson and Danny 'John Boy' Walton said.

"Doc, do you have anything to add as scientific lead?" Andy asked.

John stood and walked over to the table and dropped his holdall on it.

"We are dealing with a genetically engineered bacteria that appears to be transmitted by contact with bodily fluids. We are classing it as a Risk Group 4 Pathogen, requiring Biosafety Level 4-equivalent containment, the same as the Ebola virus." John took a perspex container out of the holdall which contained the zombie hand.

"The National Institutes of Health and National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases are calling it a Category A Priority Pathogen." John attached a circular device to the container and linked it to his tablet PC.

"The pathogen takes control of the corpse's muscles and nerves and has some…. unusual properties. On their own volition, they coordinate to find food, and in so doing spread themselves to another host."

"Their own volition?" Jack asked.

"Yeah, because they can also be coordinated remotely." John activated the software program he had written the previous evening and everyone in the room gasped.

The hand lifted up on its fingers and started to dance. The circular device was a low power microwave transmitter. The encoded radio data stream was stimulating the pathogen in a regulated way.

"Why in God's name would anyone want to do that?" Gwen asked.

"Andy, I think we need to go to Porton Down and have a chat with the boffins there. See what they have to say for themselves," John said, nodding to Rose as the 'we'.

"Yeah, I thought you'd be the best for that task," Andy said "Okay people, let's move." The team stood and started to move out. "Rose, think diplomacy. Try not to let him upset too many people," Andy said as he nodded at John with a lopsided grin.

"Hey! What do you mean? I can be diplomatic," John protested. Rose just laughed and herded him out of the door. "I'll have you know I was a president once."

Andy smiled and shook his head, wondering what state his country was in when he'd finished being president.

14 years previously

Alistair was in the classroom with a group of students who had opted for the Communication Systems Engineer course. They had already completed months of study on the theory of the electromagnetic spectrum, electronics and digital processors.

Today was a chance for them to test what they had learned in a team building exercise. The class tutor handed out sheets of paper with a scenario on them.

"Right class, listen up. Here's the scenario. Acting on information received, a platoon is heading into hostile territory to meet with a resistance cell. Insurgents have just brought down your transmitter mast and new intelligence shows that the platoon is heading for an ambush." He pauses for dramatic effect.

"On the paper is a map of the area and list of equipment available to you on the truck. Repairing the mast is not an option due to time constraints. You will need to improvise." He started the timer on the desk.

"All the theoretical knowledge you have will allow you to save the lives of your friends and colleagues. When the bell rings…. They die."

'Oh wow! No pressure then', Alistair thought as they started to read through the list of materials. One of the group started to take command and brainstorm the problem.

"Can we boost the output power of a walkie talkie?"

"No. You'll fry the crystal before you can even get two thirds of the distance," came the reply.

"We could jump into a truck and close the distance as we worked on it."

"Good thinking team," the tutor said, who was listening with interest. "Someone calculate speed, distance and range. The clock is still ticking."

Alistair suspected that the tutor was throwing them a red herring.

One of the team who was good at maths started to scribble calculations, as Alistair continued to look through the list of materials on the truck. Misdirection. 'What am I missing?' he thought.

Suddenly it all fell into place for him. The map of the scenario, the equipment list and the theory.

"Hey guys, I've got it," he told them. "We need to improvise a transmitter mast. We get someone to climb one of the trees and hang a cable from the top of it." The tutor sat up and paid attention.

"We can rig a half wave dipole. We know the frequency to calculate the length of the cable and we can estimate the capacitance and inductance of the wire," Alistair said excitedly.

"If you don't know the capacitance or inductance of the cable, you'll get feedback that will eventually cripple your radio," the tutor said, baiting him.

"We're only sendin' one message, 'run!'. If the radio blows up you can bill me for it," Alistair retorted, a bit annoyed. The tutor quietly chuckled, this kid was good.

"What about the feed line? It'll be unbalanced on a 75 Ohm coaxial cable," one of the team added.

Alistair had thought of this one, he'd done his homework. "We take a separate loop of coax and rig a balun to form a folded dipole. It won't be perfect, but it will get a message to the platoon."

"Got it!" the maths student exclaimed. "If we can cross the terrain at top speed and work on the walkie talkie while we're travelling, we might just make it in time."

'RRRIIINNNGGG!'

"Okay class. How do you feel?" the tutor asked.

"Knackered sir," Alistair admitted. "Did we save the platoon?"

"Let's hope so Private. Your team came up with two possible solutions that could have worked. The main thing is, you worked as a team. No one person had all the answers, except maybe for Private McKenzie, who demonstrated a good depth of knowledge of the subject."

The rest of the team nodded and Alistair shrugged.

"A lucky guess really. It was only because we had a backup plan that I had time to play with the idea."

"Well done team. Go grab some lunch and I'll see you back here at 14:00."

That afternoon, it was time for each students appraisal with Lieutenant Colonel Carruthers, the battalion commander. Alistair knocked on the door and waited nervously.

"Come in." Alistair opened the door and stepped into the office. Carruthers rose from his chair behind the desk, which had Alistairs file open in front of him. Alistair saluted and Carruthers returned the salute and then held out his hand which Alistair shook.

They sat down and Carruthers started the appraisal.

"Private McKenzie. How are things going for you?"

"Very good Sir. I'm enjoying the course work. I never really took to school sir, but here, it seems different somehow."

Carruthers nodded sagely. "It's called growing up son. Your results are already exceptional. Your tutors expect great things from you."

"Thank you Sir. Nice of you to say so Sir."

"And how is military life suiting you McKenzie? Some people find the adjustment difficult at first."

"I can't deny that all that spit and polish is a bit much Sir. I can't really say it comes naturally to me."

Carruthers chuckled. "I know what you mean. I'll let you into a secret, I never really got the hang of it either. The wife keeps me in line and makes sure I do it right."

Alistair grinned. "Really Sir, does she have a sister?" Alistair suddenly realised what he had said and the colour drained from his face.

The room was filled with a bellowing laugh. "Hah! I like your style lad. But by the look of your uniform, you don't need a wife. That uniform still looks brand new."

Alistair looked guiltily at his hands and shuffled in his seat.

"Is something the matter Private?"

"Um, honestly Sir?"

"Of course Private. Honesty at all times."

"Well, my uniform looks brand new Sir…. because it is brand new Sir."

"What? Brand new?" the Lieutenant Colonel said in disbelief.

"Yes Sir. I was struggling with the spit and polish so I went to the stores and exchanged my old uniform for a new one Sir."

Carruthers was incredulous. "And what did the Quartermaster think about that?"

"Well Sir, he hasn't given any thought to it at the moment Sir."

"Really? And why not?"

"Well Sir, he doesn't actually know about it, Sir. But I imagine when he finds out, he'll be wonderin' how an old uniform ended up in his stores Sir. It's not like I've stolen anythin' is it Sir? They do say that a fair exchange is no robbery Sir."

Oh yes, an honest answer indeed. This lad was a rogue for sure, but he's courageous and honest, and he liked that. His chuckle started to bubble up from inside until he couldn't stop.

"You're a rogue McKenzie, a lovable one at that. I hear on the grapevine that you are an accomplished magician."

"Well I don't know about that Sir," he said with false modesty.

"I'll tell you what McKenzie, how would you like to do some after dinner magic at my wife's dinner party on Friday, and I'll show you how to spit and polish as you put it?"

"Thank you Sir. I'd like that very much. Will I be allowed to keep any money I can spirit away Sir?"

The office was once again filled with belly splitting laughter.

The Torchwood Range Rover pulled up at the barrier to DSTL and the window lowered. Rose showed her ID to the armed soldier on guard duty, and John leaned across to show his.

"John and Rose Smith from Torchwood," she said. John waved and said 'hello' in his cheery voice. "We're here to see General Chatfield."

The soldier examined their ID badges and looked at them intently, comparing their faces to the photo ID. After he was satisfied he handed them back.

"Parking bay one please Ma'am. Then report to the security office to check in your gear."

Rose flashed him her winning smile. "Thank you."

In the security office, they checked in their stun guns and Rose handed over her Glock 17C, semi automatic pistol. John raised an eyebrow and gave her a look of disapproval.

The security officer caught the look and looked at her questioningly. Rose rolled her eyes and smiled.

"My husband doesn't like guns," she explained and then saw him looking at the stun gun John had surrendered. "One's that kill anyway."

The officer checked though their holdall and their pockets, inspecting the various scanners and high tech equipment, looking for threats. While this was going on, a senior officer entered the office and the soldier saluted.

The officer returned the salute and then held out his hand towards John and Rose.

"Dr. Smith, Mrs. Smith. My name is General Chatfield. Welcome to The Defence Science and Technology Laboratory. Please, come through to my office."

The General's office was a typically utilitarian military office with a wooden desk and chairs. There were message boards on the walls with maps and various despatches pinned on them. Rose and John sat on the chairs and Chatfield sat on the edge of the desk.

"So, what can we do for you today," he asked in a friendly tone.

John scowled at him. "You could try giving our samples back for a start."

Rose cast a him a look that told him to wind his neck in. Chatfield put on his puzzled look and smiled.

"And what samples would these be?" he asked innocently.

"They would be the samples that UNIT thought were going back to their HQ, but we actually tracked here, using secret, high tech covert techniques," Rose said.

"Ah, yes. Right." He'd been caught out. "Sorry about that. We were asked by the Defence Minister to try and contain an unusual and unknown infection. I hope we didn't cause any ill feeling between our organisations."

John shrugged. "Well, you could have tried asking. We have a lot of sensitive equipment and experiments running in our labs. A bunch of soldier storming through could do a lot of damage."

"Please accept our apologies Dr. Smith. It was not our intention to antagonise fellow professionals."

"That's okay. There have been a number of other victims overnight, so we've got plenty of specimens to work with."

Chatfield looked surprised. "Really? We haven't been notified."

Rose sat forward on the chair. "That would be because President Jones has given Torchwood full jurisdiction on this case. Now General, we are presuming that the unusual and unknown infection originated in this establishment."

The General looked horrified. "I can assure you young lady that whatever caused this infection did not come from here!"

"Well we have been following leads that tell us it did. And, General," she said with some annoyance. "I'm no lady, I'm his wife."

It was John's turn to give Rose the 'look'. "General, I am scientific advisor to the government. President Jones is expecting me to give a report on my visit today. I will need to talk to your scientific staff and look at your labs."

"I'm sorry Dr. Smith, but a lot of our research is top secret and you are not military personnel," Chatfield told him.

"We have the highest security clearance," John said. "Higher even than you can imagine. Now, if you don't believe me, let me use your phone and I'll call Harriet. I've got her private number you know."

Chatfield looked stunned. John just stared at him, arms crossed waiting for him to refuse. Rose looked at John and smiled at him with affection. John raised an eyebrow as a challenge.

"Security clearance you say? Right then, very well. Let's find you a couple of white coats and I'll take you to the biological research lab."

John leapt out of the chair with his manic grin on his face. "Thank you General. That's most kind."

At the entrance to the lab, Chatfield entered a number into a keypad and looked into an optical scanner. The lights flashed green and the door lock clicked. Inside the lab it was a typical scene of flasks, test tubes, glass tubing and Bunsen burners.

A balding man with a comb-over and thick rimmed glasses, came barrelling down the length of the lab.

"Dr. Smith! Dr. Smith, what a pleasure to meet you," the man enthused.

John and Rose were about to groan about being recognised from the gossip magazines, when they were cut short.

"That article about you in New Scientist was fascinating. Do you really have all those doctorates? How did you have time to study for them? I barely get time to study the menu in the mess these days, let alone study for another doctorate." He grabbed John's hand and pumped it in an enthusiastic handshake.

"Dr. Smith, this is our head of biological research, Professor Jenkins," Chatfield said.

"Professor Jenkins? David Jenkins? Geneticist and Nobel Prize winner for research on gene therapy?" John asked in disbelief.

"The very same. Oh I have SO wanted to meet you Dr. Smith. Your theories on trans-species gene compatibility are very compelling."

"That's very kind of you. Please call me John, and this is my wife Rose."

Jenkins shook Rose's hand. "Pleased to meet you Rose. Please call me David. If I may say, the photograph in 'Chat' doesn't do you justice. You are even more beautiful in the flesh."

Rose would normally have groaned at that, but the man was so likeable, and the idea of a Nobel Prize winning scientist reading 'Chat' magazine was hilarious.

Jenkins looked over at Chatfield. "Thank you General. I'll look after my esteemed colleague from here. I'm sure you've got some army type things to be doing."

Chatfield looked irritated. "Yes professor. Please bring our guest back to the security office when they are finished."

Jenkins had already turned around to usher them further into the lab. "Yes, yes, of course," he said distractedly.