Chapter 30
A/N: Additional references to an earlier alien encounter in the tunnels of Corsham and to the War Machines are once more from the events of earlier stories in this series, 'A Custom Order,' and 'A Custom Vehicle.'
-oo00oo-
In spite of the Doctor's somewhat cynical greeting to the Captain upon their rescue, Jo was less reserved about her gratitude and impulsively threw her arms around Yates, so pleased she was to be out of the storage room. She stepped back and looked up at the man, whose ears had suddenly gone bright red. "Thank you, Mike."
"No…don't mention it," he said and turned to the nearest distraction. "Corporal, get that cutter packed away. Doctor, I wanted you to check that man, that Ministry fellow."
"I thought you said he didn't get stuck to the car."
"Not that. We were concerned he might have been hypnotised, since he did meet the Master. We found him about to break into your car, plus he's dressed oddly."
"Where is he?"
"Uh, right here," Babcock volunteered nervously from just behind Yates. "And I was only trying to get to the radio." Ever since this hypnotism idea had been brought up he'd been worried it was true and wondered if being 'checked' would involve pain.
The Doctor merely looked at him with narrowed eyes, and that only for a brief moment. "Of course he isn't," he declared, dismissing the relieved man with a wave of his fingers. "Though I suppose the caretaker's outfit could be construed as odd in a Ministry man."
"I keep them in my car. For a disguise," Babcock offered weakly. Somehow it didn't seem nearly as clever saying it like that. Not that he needed to worry about their impressions, as they had already turned away from him to considering their situation, barely affording him another thought.
"So the Master is apparently well away," began Yates. "What's our next step?"
"We've got to stop him of course," the Doctor said.
"You're sure those, whatever they weres, those rugby-ball alien things that were down in the tunnels aren't behind this?" Jo asked, still a bit uncertain.
"I thought it was war machine things down there," Babcock ventured.
"What does any of that have to do with this?" asked Yates.
"No, no," The Doctor shook his head at his assistant. "That was only a business deal. They were merely hedging their bets with those unfortunate creatures; lining up another customer for extra profit while flattering them about being conquerors. Radipeds are not empire-builders. No…not them."
"Then what?" The aide was looking at them blankly, unsure if he was even a part of the conversation.
Jo sat down on one of the cheap office chairs. "Then, those horrid black-eyed men…," she began hesitantly.
"The ones who boxed us up?" asked Yates with a frown. He did not like being reminded of how he and Jo had been briefly kept captive as mere samples of human life.
"With the ginger colouring." The Doctor ran a couple fingers through his own silver-white curls. "Sorry to have to say it, but yes, more than likely directly involved. Their actual name, when people have to refer to them at all, is generally unpronounceable so calling them Gingers works well enough, those familiar with them will know what you mean. And they're more than likely working as cohorts with the Master in some capacity. If they succeed in selling the Earth in an interstellar business deal, not only would this world's resources be at stake, but its population as well. There are any number of ways they could've attempted wholesale destruction of life if they only wanted to sell the minerals, but then who would mine it? They might preserve plant life, but who would do the harvesting? No, I think we're looking at a plan to subjugate, not kill."
"Well, that's a faint comfort," Yates observed.
"Very faint," Jo noted.
"Wait a minute," Babcock put in. He was a bit stirred up as this was something he could understand, for he remembered the strange men. They'd cost his department a lot of money. "You're talking about those same blokes that cheated the Ministry - the ones who ordered all those parts and built that ship thing?"
"Yes," both Jo and the Doctor chorused in vague annoyance, silencing him again.
Jo crossed her legs then recrossed them restlessly. "Are you sure it isn't just the Master by himself? He would love to have everyone obeying him, wouldn't he?"
The Doctor gave her a wry smile. "Oh yes, he likes it well enough but he merely wants the benefit. The crown and the parade, if you will; his portrait in every house. He doesn't want to be bogged down in the administration of a government. He might enjoy being the monarchical figurehead as long as someone else is doing the work of reaping. And what was being reaped would go to the highest bidder."
"Tell me if I'm wrong, but we're being set up as a, as a product to sell?" said Yates.
The Doctor leaned back and rubbed at the back of his neck. "Essentially, in as many words, yes."
The captain growled something, clamping his mouth shut on an uncomplimentary descriptive for the Master as he remembered Jo's presence.
The Doctor quirked his eyebrows at the reaction. "Rather."
"Well, what are we waiting for?" Yates moved his arms impatiently. "Shouldn't we get busy locating him then?" Jo stood, nodding in agreement.
"What about that lizard in there?" Babcock asked as they all began to move.
"What? Oh, I'd forgotten about it," the Doctor said. "Yes, I suppose we ought to box it up at the very least."
Yates paused. "Lizard?"
"The dragon that everyone was seeing," Jo explained as they went to pull the furniture away from the door again. "Except not so big."
"Fetch a metal box, there's a good chap," the Doctor added. "It spouts flame so wood won't do."
"Flame?" The captain blinked, then settled for nodding and sending a man to find a box before lending a hand with the furniture that still blocked the back room's door. He'd find out soon enough. The doorway was quickly cleared and opened.
"Fnaaarghff!" growled the creature, hissing from where it was hunkered beneath a metal desk. The room was in a shambles; it had apparently both burnt up and chewed on the trampled dioramas in the interim and the air stank of charred paper, melted plastics, rubber and paint. Yates coughed, the corporal coming in behind him fanned the air with his hands.
"Well, we've put him out of the dragon business, anyway," Jo said, making a face at the fumes. "His hologram whatsit is still here and we have the dragon."
The Doctor was picking his way over the jumbled furniture and remains of dioramas for a closer examination. He swept a hand through some dangling connectors in disgust. "I suppose it was to be expected. He's taken both the repository feedback block and the integrated hologen circuit."
"Which means?" asked Yates.
"Which means he can build another unfortunately, any schoolboy could." He sighed in frustration. "He had recordings also. They're gone."
"And he took the hats," Jo observed sourly. "Figures."
"I'll be needing this," the Doctor said, indicating a piece of boxy equipment. "And I want this place watched, at least until we can deal with the contents of those bins. Have one of your men crate that dragon," he directed, "and bring those cigars. But take care, it bites." He stepped over the miniature Westminster and offered Jo a hand to help her over as well then led her out the door.
Yates looked after them and glanced at the corporal who shrugged. He took a breath. "All right, you heard him. Get that… thing there into a box of some kind. Metal."
"And bring the cigars," reminded the man.
"Without helping yourselves to them," Yates said, noting his coveting tone. "If they were the Master's who knows what could be in them."
"Yes sir."
-oo00oo-
Lethbridge-Stewart tapped his swagger-stick on his thigh with irritation as he walked slowly and deliberately to the window and back. Behind him, Sergeant Benton examined the metal ammunition box that sat by the lab's hat-rack, hastily drilled holes peppering its top and a snorting sound coming from within.
"Wouldn't win many beauty pageants, would it?" he noted, angling to look in on one of the holes. A wet bit of snout pressed up against it, raising a disc of brown-grey flesh.
"You can feed it if you like," the Doctor said, waving a hand. "There's cigars there, in those boxes."
"Captain Yates mentioned that." Benton obediently flipped open a box and set about unwrapping one.
The Brigadier kept tapping his stick. "If I understand right, both of you were affected by that shock…"
"Yes. Contrary to popular belief I'm not entirely impervious to emotional impacts." The Doctor said dryly. He was picking away at a bit of wire on his workbench. "Especially not an amplified chaotic signal in close proximity. It's a good thing Jo blacked out as quickly as she did, probably saved her mind from a severe overload."
This earned him a sharp look. The Brigadier did not like to be reminded of the peril the young agent seemed to so often encounter with her mentor. Not that the Doctor was to blame for that peril directly, of course, but still... "So it affects everyone including, presumably, the Master. At least in close proximity. Could we use that against him?"
"He has the ability to block it, a polarizer he's incorporated into those hats."
"But you can reproduce them?"
The Doctor looked slightly irritated. "Of course. It's what I'm working on right now."
"Does this mean we'll all be outfitted in bowlers?" asked Benton.
They looked over at the Sergeant, who was kneeling by the padlocked metal box, literally feeding a cigar into the hole on the top. A slavering, grunting noise came from inside. "There you go," the Sergeant added cheerfully. "You want another?"
The Brigadier's mustache curled slightly in revulsion. He turned back to the Doctor. "Not if I can help it. My men would look ridiculous, like a platoon of bankers."
"Bowlers aren't necessary," the Doctor said, holding a bit of wire up to the light to check the tip on it. "If you don't mind a clip on your collar, the local haberdashery will be quite safe from your military presence." He poked around in one of his pockets and pulled out a jeweler's loupe.
"Hungry little thing," Benton commented, unwrapping another cigar.
The Doctor screwed in the loupe, flicked on a work lamp and carefully tweaked something. "It probably won't survive long no matter how much tobacco you feed it. It never should've been taken from its native planet."
The Brigadier paced over to the window and back, pausing to look at the jumble of equipment the Doctor had instructed them to bring from the small broadcasting station. One of the boxes was already on the operating table, so to speak, its wire guts hanging out beneath the Doctor's work-lamp.
"We have a 24-hour surveillance on that station," he commented.
The Time Lord's eyes were on his work, adjusting something with a tiny tool then reaching for a roll of thin soldering wire. "He's really not likely to return to it, you know. He'll probably just find some other way to link into the broadcasting satellites."
"And that's another thing," the Brigadier grumbled. "All we went through to get that satellite information and it wasn't even needed. Going to make us look like fools."
A tiny puff of smoke went up from the soldering iron. "Where is it?"
"In my office. I glanced at it this morning; reams of numbers, more your sort of thing than mine."
The Doctor paused, popping excess solder from the iron. "Yes. There may be something of use there yet, just not what it was originally intended for. I'd like to see it."
"Right. Benton…"
The Sergeant was already heading out the door. "Yes sir!"
He turned back to his advisor. "Let me know the minute those blocking…things are ready."
"Polarizers. I'll have a sample for your technicians soon. You can send one of them along to fetch it at half-past."
He started to walk out then turned around again. "Out of curiosity, what are you looking for in those records?"
The Doctor glanced back up at him. "Partners in crime, Brigadier. If the Master needs to create recordings to impress them, chances are they've only recently come back to see the show. The satellite records might tell us when and, more importantly, where."
"Another spaceship, you mean?"
"Perhaps."
"What the blazes is this world coming to. I'm beginning to think we're just a holiday stopover for any hostile aliens going past."
The Doctor went back to his work, the soldering iron hissing on its wet square of sponge. "Not quite. If it's any consolation, I expect they're the same lot as before." He dropped the loupe into his palm and pocketed it, turning the tiny polarizer under the light critically.
"Which ones? The ginger ones who built that ship in Chippenham?"
"Very likely. We already know they're in this solar system. Probably just a ship to surface shuttle if they have one, rather than a full-sized craft."
There was a thump of hurried footsteps and a breathless Benton returned, a thick leather case under one arm. "Here it is," he said, handing it over to the Brigadier, who unlocked it and handed it to the Doctor.
The Doctor opened it and riffled briefly through the papers examining headings. Selecting a section, he pulled it out and unceremoniously scooped a scatter of tubes, wires and scraps into a heap at the end of the table so he could spread them out. The Brigadier leaned over his shoulder for a moment curiously, but still couldn't make head nor tail of what he was seeing. Benton hovered behind them both, waiting to see what sort of rabbit the Doctor might pull out of his hat this time.
The Doctor ran his hand over columns of numbers while jotting something on a piece of paper, then rummaged briefly in his pile of scraps to pull out a somewhat tattered map of Britain that looked like it had been used to wrap sandwiches. This he smoothed briefly and studied.
"There it is, Brigadier!" He tapped it triumphantly. "They made landfall near Gravesend."
Alistair spluttered slightly. "Gravesend? What…just over in Kent?"
"They might have chosen it because of the proximity to the watch factory there."
He frowned. "How the devil do you know that?"
The Doctor quirked a small smile. "Why, because of Bessie of course. Her original speedometer was manufactured there. I made inquiries to see if they could duplicate it before using your military supply, but they only make watches now." He was apparently pleased with himself.
The Brigadier leaned over the map. "That's practically in our back yard."
"Yes. And now that his friends have arrived for their demonstration of his cowing of the populace we may know where to find the Master. That man, that Babcock fellow, has he traced the distribution of those watch movements yet?"
"Yes! For all his faults on the field, he's quite efficient in other areas. We're reasonably sure production and distribution was limited to only a small run of compromised Neutron watches and those seem to have been confined to Britain with a handful gone to various high-profile individuals in Ireland."
"Most likely as a test case for some future nonsense with those projections. No dragon sightings reported in Ireland?"
"No."
"Maybe he was planning leprechauns or something," grinned Benton, his smile fading as the others just looked at him. He shrugged apologetically and changed the subject slightly. "So how do we find a spaceship in Gravesend?"
"Oh, that shouldn't be too difficult," the Doctor said. "I should be able to narrow it by tracing the emanations of its drive system and plotting a trajectory. It wouldn't be in the town proper, of course. More likely in the countryside."
"Well, it sounds like we have a direction then," the Brigadier said, relieved. He hated waiting. "We've started in on locating any planned shipments to international destinations and stopping them. Any Neutron watches we can find are being confiscated under assorted pretenses."
"They should be destroyed," the Doctor emphasized. "Not only because of the compromised movements; but because they're still an anachronism. I would very much encourage you to use whatever pretenses are necessary to see to that as well. But that only addresses the ones that have already been manufactured and shipped out."
"I'm aware of that. Sergeant Benton, give Mr. Babcock a ring. See what he can do to stop the installation of those movements at any identified watch manufacturing sites." He swiveled on his heels again. "And now…?"
"Now we find that spaceship."
-oo00oo-