A/N: Here's the next installment for what might be a while, thanks to holidays coming up. If there is more before the new year, then it's a bonus, but for now this is it (though I do have some of the next chapter written).
Eleven
"First protocol is implemented—we are good to go," Kate said. "I'll let you know when we've reached the next stage."
"Good luck, love," Malcolm replied. The call ended, he shoved his mobile in his pocket and looked out on the pit that had the molemen in it, watching mercilessly as they scrambled to keep their stations working smoothly. It had been less than an hour since Kate had left him in charge of the place and he certainly wasn't about to walk away and allow the chaos devolve into anarchy; this was his post now, as temporary as it was, and it reminded him of Cabinet reshuffles and surprise elections. He was more than qualified for this.
"Lieutenant Colonel, I just got a text—we're to 'guard the graveyards' according to the Doctor," Scarfy frowned, standing next to him. She stared at her mobile and loosened her scarf idly. "That doesn't make sense... why the graveyards?"
"Cybercunts might use them as a gathering place since there's no one in 'em that can hold a torch and pitchfork," he shrugged. "I though you and the other Miss Level know what one another's thinking at all times."
"The psychic link works best when we're physically occupying roughly the same space; it's easier to simply text instead of waste mental energy attempting to keep in sync long-distance," she replied.
"Fair enough," he shrugged. "I just wish the Doctor wasn't involved. It's bad enough the Master is, but to have two of those lunatics putting their cosmic dicks in the biscuit tin… though one of 'em doesn't exactly has a dick anymore, does she?"
"She'll get sick of peeing sitting down eventually, trust me," Scarfy snarked. She excused herself to take a call from her uncle and Malcolm was left alone, overseeing his subordinates quietly.
That was certainly something: observing quietly. It wasn't often he got to merely watch without shouting at the top of his lungs in the process—even his direct staff in Communications occasionally needed a decent bollocking to keep in line—and to stand there with no one to actually need to shout at… it was an odd feeling. Then again, UNIT was rather well-stacked when it came to competency.
Out of the corner of his eye, Malcolm saw Glenn knelt down aside an unmanned moleman station, recognizing it as the project that he had been working on the day before, put on hold because of General Bambera's arrival. He attempted to walk over casually as possible, something that still caught the attention of his former political colleague.
"Before you start shouting, if someone out here has an issue, which I'm sure will happen, at least I don't have to break a sweat running to get up here," Glenn said.
"I don't believe it—we've worked together for fucking decades and I've never seen you run a single stride even once."
"Better than whatever that is you call running—I hope for your sake the Brigadier-Director isn't fond of participating in 5ks."
"Touché." He watched Glenn poke and prod the station innards with different devices, most of which he'd never seen before, and scowled. "Hey, you alright?"
"Out of all the decades we've worked together, I think you've asked me that all of once, and that's just because I think you felt guilty about my nose."
"Well, it's not like you've missed nearly a week of work before because a pub mate half your age died," Malcolm mentioned. Glenn stared at him, not entirely sure how to respond. "Rajit told me and I didn't want to bring it up around everyone earlier."
"Thanks," he said. "Danny… he was a good lad—deserved the flack he got for being a soldier less than I did when I came back from 'Nam. Hard worker, knew what he wanted, straddled that line between the guy you want to be your younger brother and the guy you nearly see as a son. It's an odd thing to say, but you'd understand if you were in my position…"
"…which is why your hands are still shaking."
"For fuck's sake, Malcolm—don't you have anyone to bollock into submission?"
"Not yet, but I don't want it to be you… not because of this," he replied. "Listen: Morton's out sick and there are a couple civilians up in Kate's office. Can you stay with them for a bit, make sure they're alright? It's just up the lift if you need to get back."
"Alright," Glenn relented. He put the otherworldly scanning device back in the tool tote and left the bag there. "I've met Miss Ferrero, but the other one's your niece, right?"
"Yeah, that's my Lex; careful, 'cause she's got the Tucker Temper worse than me. She's me mam's granddaughter through and through."
"Noted." Glenn then walked away, headed over towards the lift that would take him to Kate's office. Malcolm went back to his post, only for the Biomedical Head, Alessandra Sullivan, to walk up to him brandishing a complicated-looking readout on a tablet.
"It's spreading," she said gravely. "Cybermen are exploding in the sky all around the world. I've got my team attempting to figure out what precisely is going on, but we're stumped."
"This is the Master's doing—who knows what sort of shit she's got up her parasol," he replied, examining the data. He could make sense of it up until a point, but afterwards it was just a bunch of fucking gibberish. "You send this to the Brigadier-Director?"
"It's being compiled now for upload. So much for this being a localized event, eh?"
"Why else do you think we went to fetch His Sodding Presidency?" Malcolm scoffed. "So the cybercide is what's causing this freakish rain?"
"There's something special in the rain that's reacting with the deceased's organic matter; before this we've only had records of live-cyberconversions, so this is definitely new to us."
"…then Mister President better get to presidenting or there are going to be rent boys less fucked than we are."
"You always have a way with words, don't you Tucker?" Sullivan chuckled. She took back her tablet and sighed while swiping through the rest of her data. "We're stuck worried about Cybermen, thanks to a what-if that has no precedent, while I'd rather have a crack at decoding Gallifreyan gender fluidity and its role in regeneration. Feeling repressed and rebelling when it comes to gender norms is one thing, and confusing the mental for the biological is another, but this is purely biological… you don't just change your base biology on a whim."
"Say that now and it might get treated like a death sentence," Malcolm warned. "I thought Time Lords swapped faces now and then, yeah? Who's to say they want to trade their balls for some tits and vice versa every now and then?"
"We've never been in contact with such an individual before—this is brand-new stuff that could help humans with their own gender-specific problems should we crack the code. If the Osgoods and I can get just a bit of time…"
"I told ya: be careful what you wish for. It got me fucked over more than once. Got visuals on the Doctor's new mug yet?"
"Right here." Sullivan pulled up a scan of the Doctor from the shoulders up, showing it to Malcolm.
"Ugly bloke," he scowled. "If these bent space-tits can change appearance and gender and all that shit, you would think they'd try to look like they weren't run over by a train."
"Who knows? Probably got sick of looking like a Beatle and moved on."
"Fucked if I know."
Glancing up at the monitors above the molemen, he watched as the convoy carrying his lady and the Time Lords were being tracked on their way towards Boat One. There was an uneasy feeling in his stomach as he did so, hoping that everything was going to go according to plan.
Peeling a satsuma up in Kate's office, Malcolm tried to keep a shell of composure in front of Lex and Fiona. He had relieved Glenn of his civiliansitting duties after a few hours and was now briefing the young women with what he could. They were over in the sitting area, with him in a chair and the two civilians sitting on the couch.
"These Cyberpricks, how dangerous are they?" Lex wondered.
"You must've had fun living up in Scotland, not getting the crazy shit we do down here," Fiona said. "Their primary objective is the destruction of humanity as we know it, though it's through things like eliminating emotions and attachments… stuff like that. They use what can be considered positive concepts in a negative way. When priests and gurus tell someone to let go of their emotions, this is the furthest thing they mean; controlling is not the same thing as straight-up deleting."
"Not sure if I see Gordy doing it, so are you planning on taking over the family business from your mam?" Malcolm asked. "You've got the brains and know-how for it."
"Maybe, if I get bored enough," the teen shrugged. "I had been thinking about business and banking… you know… be where the funds come from."
"Sounds like a good goal to have," he said, popping a section of fruit into his mouth. "The less we have to rely on the fucking Crown the better… and even the UN doesn't always admit that we're part of them."
"Hence why I'd like to make sure that we rely on public funds less and less—it'll be a challenge, but it's one I'm up to tackling."
"Do you know if Zuri and her mam are back in Geneva yet?" Lex asked, changing the subject. "The nip seemed pretty nerve-wracked."
"They touched down just before I came up," Malcolm replied. "Wasn't a long ride at all. It looks like they're going through the exact same things in Switzerland that we are in the UK… it's happening all over the world."
"…but Mum has the Doctor, yeah? He's President of the World, dumb as that sounds," Fiona mentioned.
"I don't trust a Time Lord as far as I can toss him, but this is fucking lunacy." He ran his hands over his face and exhaled heavily. "For that shit to be the only hope we have, we've got to be desperate."
"Umm… Malcolm…?" The three glanced towards the door and saw Aparajita standing there, looking rather unnerved. "Captain Benton wants you."
"No rest for the wicked," he sighed. "Hang tight, ladies—I'll be back when I can." Malcolm went over to his PA and closed the office door behind them. "You look as though someone told you that Finch prick got back out and attacked your granddad personally."
"No, but you better get down there," she replied.
Not wanting to waste time, Malcolm went into the lift and down to the atrium level. He went towards where Scarfy, Benton, and Sullivan were standing, the both looking at something on the latter's tablet.
"What's going on?" he asked, attempting to keep his voice down. "Rajit looked genuinely scared."
"Heat scans on cemeteries and graveyards all over the UK and Ireland are correlating what's beginning to happen around the rest of the world: the graves are active," Sullivan said. "Cyberconversion is happening despite everything we know saying that it shouldn't."
"Is there anything we can do?"
"Other than tell the Brigadier-Director? Nothing," Benton said. The old man looked weary, as though he was in need of a good, long rest.
"Lieutenant Colonel!" a molewoman shouted. "We have reports of Cybermen popping out of graves and wandering around cemeteries! What do we do?!"
"Send the information to Boat One—monitor the situation and prep reaction squadrons," he ordered quickly. "Any reports of them acting out?"
"None, sir."
"Then proceed as planned."
The alarm lights across the atrium deepened from bright orange to a red-orange, heightening the threat level slightly. It had been varying shades of yellow and orange since Kate left and it was now the closest to red the media man had ever seen it outside of drills, exercises, and that time the computer controlling it had a cuppa spilled all over it.
"Lieutenant Colonel," Scarfy said, bringing his thoughts back, "do you want me to get Corporal Lethbridge-Stewart and have him escort the civilians in the Brigadier-Director's office home? They've been here a long time and if we move them now, they'll miss the Cybermen's activation."
"Good idea, but not yet," Malcolm nodded. "I'd rather keep them here for a while yet if the Cybercunts are starting to pop up like metal-plated zombies. Hobbling about or not, those corpses are going to start attacking without a fucking notice."
"Oka…a…y…"
Scarfy's eyes went wide and she dropped to the floor, visibly shaking. Benton and Malcolm both jumped back, while Sullivan immediately put down her tablet and began checking her over.
"What the fuck is happening?!" Malcolm asked.
"It looks like shock, but I don't know from what," Sullivan replied. "I need to get her down to medical, now!"
While it did not take long for someone to appear with a gurney, it was just enough time for Scarfy to start convulsing. Sullivan got some help from Malcolm in holding her down so that she didn't hurt herself. They lifted her onto the gurney and strapped her down, with Sullivan immediately rushing her over to the medical bay.
"Shit…" Benton marveled. "I didn't know that the younger Osgood was prone to seizures."
"I dunno… that doesn't look like one to me," Malcolm scowled. "I've seen 'em before and they don't happen out of nowhere like what Scarfy's going through. Alessandra probably thinks that's it because she's panicking."
"How do you know that?"
"Used to work with a lass who was susceptible back in my newspaper days—clever woman, but we had to keep her away from photographed major events or she would be the one making headlines."
"Sounds like quite the task, considering you worked in news," Benton said, shaking his head. He caught the stares of nearby molemen out of the corner of his eye and made them get back to work again with only a quick look. Returning to the conversation, he stood close to Malcolm so that no one else could overhear. "Do you think it's because she's the Zygon?"
"I don't know—even with the Zygons working for us allowing medical exams, the last time I checked the file we knew fuck-all about their physiology, and that would do Scarfy no good anyhow considering she's currently Human, whether that's what she was originally or not." Malcolm picked up Sullivan's tablet from the floor and whistled, urging the cluster of soldiers not far off to send one of their number over. Gordon answered the call and trotted over. "Can you take this down to Medical Officer Sullivan?"
"Sure. Do you think Osgood will be alright?"
"If she's not now, then she will be eventually—Alessandra's a good medical doctor," Benton assured. The young man was about to walk off when a moleman shouted over at his temporary commanding officer.
"We've got a message coming in from Boat One!"
"Play it," Malcolm said. The moleman hit some buttons and brought up the audio, which played on a loop via the overhead speakers.
"Message to Geneva: tell them Boat One is going down. We don't anticipate survivors."
Kate… that was her voice. Malcolm's chest became tight as he listened to her words, the fact they were her last ones hitting him hard.
"Message to Geneva: tell them Boat One is going down. We don't anticipate survivors."
Fuck, she sounded terrified. A monitor began to flash—the plane had exploded… she was gone.
"Message to Geneva: tell them Boat One is going down. We don't anticipate survivors."
No.
