AUTHOR'S NOTES

Thanks for the kind reviews! Here's the latest installment, with the next chapter in the works.

From the journal of Alistair Lethenbridge Stewart, 15 May 1985, United Nations Intelligence Task Force, Earth, London, England

I am happy to report that Kate and baby Johnathan Hamish are home from hospital. I wish Doris were here. She would have loved being a grandmother.

I think he looks a lot like me. Thankfully, he doesn't look anything like his bastard of a father, though that may change as he grows. We haven't heard from him, though Kate notified his parents about the birth. The restraining order should keep her and Jonathan safe, though I still worry.

It's nice having them here. I brought Kate's old crib down from the attic and set it up in her room. It's good to see her with the baby. She seems happy and more at ease than I've seen her since she moved back in.

Against her protests, I arranged for a nanny to come by for part of the day three times a week. Kate insists she doesn't need the help, but I remember how hard it was for Doris when Kate was a baby, and I was away. Doris had her mother who was always happy to help. Kate doesn't have that. I vow to be more helpful with my grandson than I was with Kate, though the demands of UNIT are always a challenge.

In today's governance meeting we continued to hammer out the future architecture of UNIT. While it's been a difficult road, I am starting to look forward to realizing this future vision, even though it means my own position will cease to exist when I retire. The future UNIT will not be led by a brigadier general. Times change, and so must UNIT. In fact, as we decouple the agency from the United Nations, we're working on a name change. I like Unified Intelligence Task Force. We'll see how the vote goes next month.

In the future, in times of anticipated or actual alien incursions UNIT will have full and unquestioned authority to draw from any branch of military services. The global coordination is also much more streamlined, enabling a faster, more comprehensive response to threats.

I am both excited and sad to usher in this new era. My hope is that things unfold beautifully and we are not faced with a serious threat before we've made the full transition.

From the journal of Kate Stewart, 6 January 2026, Royal London Hospital, Earth, London, England

There's nothing like a new year for starting fresh habits. After toting around Dad's journal for all these years, and, since the end of the world as we knew it, reading it obsessively, I've decided to start one of my own.

I mentioned the idea casually to Osgood before I even found a suitable notebook, and she smiled and said, "That's nice, Kate." It was clear she thought I would never do it, or if I did, I would write in it for a week and then get busy and stop.

She knows me well. While only time will tell if I keep it up, at least I took the initial action. It's something to do, and right now I need things to do. And who knows, maybe it will be of some historic significance if we manage to crawl out of this colossal cock-up and survive.

The team left for Torchwood One at dawn. The weather was cold and dry, with the promise of a sharp wind, which helps with the radiation levels. We gave them a third of the rations and all remaining radiation tablets for the journey. We have military-grade walkie talkies for communicating with them, so it's not like we're completely cut off.

The hardest part of their departure was staying behind. I should have seen it coming. When I proposed the idea, I'd assumed I would be leading the mission, but then Osgood and Jax gently pointed out that my broken leg meant someone would have to lift me over any obstacles and I would have to be carried up and down stairs.

I know the truth is I might not have survived the journey. My pneumonia is clearing up, but the after-effects of the latest radiation exposure are still with me. Still, I hate the idea of sending others into danger and staying behind in relative safety.

Bradley is leading the team. I trust him to take care of everyone and make good decisions. I grudgingly sent Jax. She has the most advanced technical skills. If they manage to get the power on, she's really the only one with a chance of getting communications up and running. She was up for the mission, though I suspect sad to leave us. I didn't want to part with her, either, but there was nothing for it.

Jax gave Osgood and me a crash course in operating the radio set-up so we can stay in touch with Mexico and Wisconsin and keep trying to find others. I must admit that I don't have the temperament or the patience for it, but at least Osgood seems game.

After they headed out Osgood and I organized the remaining food stores. Aside from the two of us there's the medical staff and patients – 40 people total. If we ration the food carefully, we've got a one-month supply, with no prospects for reprovisioning, unless the Doctor pays another visit.

I hope he focuses on getting the timeline sorted instead of popping in to see how we're doing. If he does, hopefully all this chaos will never have happened, and we'll be back on our nice, neat timeline where there are working toilets and fast food and nail salons. And where Johnnie is still alive.

That most of all. I need my son back.

Okay, enough journaling. Apparently, I'm starting to get maudlin. If that keeps happening, then journaling is not for me, after all.

Later that same evening

We finally heard from the Torchwood team. It took them four hours to make the 2.2-mile journey to Canary Wharf. It took another two hours to locate the entrance to the underground installation at One Canada Square, which apparently was partially levelled at some point.

Bradley assures me that the Geiger counters confirmed lower-than-usual radiation in their journey, probably due to the good weather. Everyone wore suits, of course, and took radiation tablets. He says everyone's fine, but I doubt that. I will ask to talk to Jax next time. She won't want to give me bad news, but she will be honest if anyone has worsening radiation sickness.

They are six floors underground, and further protected by several feet of reinforced concrete, They also have two of the Doctor's stabilizers. That deep underground, they are probably safer than we are.

Now maybe I can get some rest.