Chapter 34

-oo00oo-

The sun dipped low behind the trees, dropping the junction into shadow punctuated with thin, fading pencils of light. The grey colours of the gravel and long rail-lines complemented the grey sedan that rolled to a stop alongside the military vehicles in the parking area at Hoo Junction.

Clutching the steering wheel, his shoulders hunched up as if to conceal his face, sat Mr. John Babcock, government aide and nominal operative for the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce. At least he hoped he would still be allowed that modest UNIT title in spite of his presence here. His inquisitive side had rationalized his decision to come based on his own involvement in tracking the shipments here, plus his being at least modestly instrumental in freeing the Doctor and his assistant earlier. He'd even seen that dragon. It would be logical that he should see the task through to completion, wouldn't it?

The more rational part of his mind more grudgingly admitted it was his own overwhelming curiosity that had brought him so far afield and he wasn't likely be welcomed with open arms. These two warring sides of his mind pushed and pulled at him, causing him to open the door, close it part way, open it again and get out of the sedan but then quail at the possibility of actually being seen by one of UNIT's men. This perhaps explained why, when a sentry came out of the woods and went to speak with another man out towards the tracks, Babcock went from sauntering along as if he belonged there to diving into the nearest jeep and ducking down below the level of the seats.

He startled as a metal box next to him in the seat made a "snaaarrk," sound and something inside it wheezed. Examining it closer in the waning light, he realized it was that strange dragon creature again. Why had they brought it here? He waited tensely, hearing footsteps crunch past on the gravel somewhere on the opposite side of the car and tried to think of what would make a good cover story for why he was hiding in a jeep should he be found.

"I found this rare creature loose and recaptured it for you!" he imagined himself saying with just the right balance of reluctant bravery and gentlemanly humility.

"Well done, Babcock! Good man. Don't know what we would have done without you. Good luck that you came by when you did or it might have been lost forever," he imagined the Brigadier telling him. He would be modest about it, of course, and refuse the Brigadier's offer of a generous bonus, only doing his duty, though would finally allow the promotion to the espionage division when it was pressed upon him - for the good of his country, of course.

A round bit of dragon snout pressed up against a hole in the box, then a slightly protruding eye appeared and regarded him. "I suppose I'll have to let you out for a moment so I can truthfully say I recaptured you," he told the eye, remembering it hadn't been a very large animal. "But you can't leave the car, all right?" He reached up and opened the latch. The hinged lid swung open and the creature inside sat and regarded him for a beat, then clambered out. He involuntarily recoiled from the rubbery feel of it as it slithered past his arm, thumping down to the floor of the jeep.

He scrunched up his legs, regretting his decision already and started wheedling at it to come back into the box, but a movement on the periphery of his vision caught his attention. He glanced over and suddenly froze. One of those ginger-haired con-men! He was sure it was. And there was another!

The first one was bent over the far corner of the nearest building, a two-story house or office of some kind. The figure made a few quick movements and then straightened, coming around the building to join another one. The two dark-clad men, their ginger hair just showing beneath their matching bowler hats were carrying a large box between them. Smoke began to rise from the corner of the house where the man had been, quickly followed by a distinct blackening of the siding and a flicker of flame. Babcock's eyes widened. They'd set fire to the house! He looked back at where they should have been with their big box but they were gone.

He scanned all around in alarm. This was plainly arson! Didn't anyone else see what was going on? The smoke trailed up into the early twilight and a bit of flame danced along the wall of the building, bright in the shadow. There was a movement up in one of the windows. There was somebody up there! Without further delay, he opened the jeep door and tumbled out of it, looking for someone, anyone he could warn.

"Fire!" he cried in a tremulous, rising voice. "Brigadier! Fire!"

Behind him, forgotten for the moment, a small grey-brown creature nudged the swinging jeep door open and jumped down to the graveled yard. It looked at the fire licking its way along the siding and hissed a little tongue of flame in reply.

"Fire what?" the Brigadier said, his eyes snapping up from where he'd been examining a new attempt at removing one of the cable-connecting boxes. It was getting on toward dark and he was wishing he'd brought a torch. Frowning, he regarded the man panting towards him waving his arms. "Mr. Babcock? What the devil are you doing here?" He tried to remember if he'd given any orders that could have been misconstrued to bring him out this way.

"Fire!" Babcock repeated, his voice cracking in a squeak. He pointed back towards the signal house. "Those con-men, they set it on fire!"

"Con-men? You mean those Gingers? What did they set on fire?"

"The house!" Babcock gasped in desperation. "That house is on fire! And I think there's someone in there!"

"Where's the Doctor?" snapped the Brigadier to the men nearest him. "You, go find him. Bradley, radio for firefighting equipment. Yes, I know we're not supposed to be on the radios, this is an emergency. Go! Baker, go notify the patrols in the woods, we need them here on the double. The rest of you, with me. I don't know who's in there but we've got to get them out!"

All over the rapidly darkening marshalling yard men abandoned their various duties as the message spread, shouting to one another and running to help with the fire. In the confusion, no-one noticed a dark pair of figures carrying a large box between them as they slipped from one set of train-cars to another, heading for the distant pond. No-one but one small Polluxian dragon, whose eyes were poor but whose sense of smell was still keen. It had been several hours now since it had finished off the last of the cigars back in the lab. The box the tall men carried had the faint aroma of tobacco about it, irresistible and tempting. Slavering, the dragon crawled over the train rails to follow it.

-oo00oo-

Smoke was curling around the ceiling of the room and Yates was getting desperate. He tried getting Benton to go out the window, but the man had blacked out and ended up down on the glass-strewn floor. His own ribs and arm hurt so badly when he next tried to lift Jo that he nearly blacked out himself. He cursed the men along the wall, who refused to leave their place or help him.

"This place is on fire!" he snapped at them. "You're going to die if you don't get out that window!"

"Shhh. The Master said to wait."

He yanked the cushions from the couch and started trying to heap the limp Jo onto them in hopes of sliding her across the room that way when there was a blessedly welcome thumping and shouting at the window heralding the arrival of his fellow soldiers.

"Here's Miss Grant!" the first man yelled down towards the ground. "And Captain Yates and the Sergeant!" He turned back to the people in the smoke-hazed room. "Where's the Doctor? Isn't he with you?"

"No," Yates said, "he was downstairs last I saw. Help me, Benton's injured."

The men rapidly wadded up the torn, glass-filled curtain from the window frame and swept away the last of the shards, throwing a fat army-issue blanket over the edge instead. They looked in surprise at the men sitting obediently along the wall, one of whom was now laying limp from having picked up the discarded paralysis tool in curiosity and touching the wrong end. "Well come on!" they exhorted. "Come on, get out! This way!"

Yates shook his head from where he knelt by the couch. "They won't come," he said. "The Master's got to them and told them they have to wait here." Aching, he gratefully watched as his fellows took ahold of the woozily apologizing Benton, and turned to help with Jo who seemed to finally be coming around.

Down below, the Brigadier coughed, his eyes watering as the breeze shifted a roil of black smoke towards him. He was glad to locate his missing men, but was starting to be concerned about his scientist's continued absence. He briefly joined his men in directing the spray from a garden hose while exhorting others who'd grabbed shovels and were rapidly clearing brush away from the back of the house to keep it from spreading as sparks and bits of ash whirled past. Two of his men with their faces covered in damp cloth burst back out of the lower door where they'd gone in for a brief search before the fire became too intense.

They shook their heads, coughing and squinting from the smoke. They'd found no one downstairs. He nodded in acknowledgment as a shout above caught his attention.

"Sir!" the men up the stairs were hailing him, yelling over the growing sound of the fire. "What do we do with these other blokes? They won't come out!"

"What blokes? Why not?" the Brigadier snapped. "Are they hurt?"

"No, they say the Master told them to wait for him there!"

"Pick them up and carry them if you have to!" he shouted back. "I don't care how you do it, just get them out of there!" He turned, muttering an imprecation about civilians to the men beside him. "Blake! See if you can find any pumping equipment anywhere, we may be able to pump water from that pond."

He looked back up and cupped his hands to be heard again. "Any sign of the Doctor?"

"No!" they called back down.

He repeated his imprecation, this time about wayward Time Lords.

-oo00oo-