Doctor Who: Infection

Chapter 41 - Abandon

Disclaimer - I don't own nothing or nobody you know/recognize. Doctor Who is intellectual property of the BBC, afaik.

Characters: Gleeson!Doctor, Markham, River, Jack, OCs


The boy watched from the hillside as the attack began. The Dark Man made him watch. He felt the shockwave before he saw any hint of it. He shut his eyes tight, expecting to be knocked down, but he wasn't. When he did open his eyes, the pair were in a small apartment.

"This is where you will live, for now," the man said. "Your tutor shall be in to see you in a moment," he explained before passing through a wall, leaving the boy alone.

He looked around the spartan room. Barely enough room for a modest bed, table and chairs. A small alcove in the wall held a tray, beside it a small control panel. Testing it, he saw it was some sort of food receptacle. Two doors sat into the wall on the far side of the room from the bed. Peeking in one, he saw one was a small closet, with dark clothes that seemed to be his size. The other was a washroom with a basic sink, toilet, and shower stall. He shrugged and returned to the room proper, only to see a man in a dark suit sitting at the table. He motioned to the other seat.

"Shall we begin?" he asked, opening a book. The boy studied him for a moment. His features were lean and sharp, his hair a close cropped curl, his voice stern.

There was no sense of time passage, but he knew from the schedule that days, weeks, even months passed. Between his studies, he was led to a fully stocked gymnasium, where he was given an Olympic level regimen; or a workshop, where he was trained in circuitry and mechanical repair.

It had only seemed like months had passed, but he looked at himself in the bathroom mirror after a particular robust gym session and realized he was now a teenager. He had been kept so busy, he had not realized he had been here for years, not months. In fact, he could feel a touch of stubble on his jaw now.

The next time he used the washroom, he found a small y-shaped stick. Examining it, he saw that a small beam of light appeared between the tines as he held it close to his face. He realized this was his razor. He could not recall any memory of his father shaving, but the fat man? There were a few rare occasions he had seen the man dragging a similar object across his cream smeared face. He had better recollection of seeing a handful shaving cream adverts during his brief residence with the man, so he had a vague idea of what to do. A few tutoring sessions later, his biology lesson covered puberty. He had to admit to the tutor that he had felt some urges, but no real inclination for the sexual act. Most of the time, he simply felt lonely.

This only got him a slight smirk, as if the tutor was remembering his own adolescence. "Something to worry about another day," was all he said before moving on. He often wondered if it was because he spent his early years mostly in the presence of family: his mother, sister, and niece.

Sighting the Dark Man who had brought him here was a rare occasion in itself. Most of those sightings were watching him while he worked out. Whispered conversations between him and his tutor that he could not hear. He had dared to ask who they were on one occasion, but was warned not to ask ever again. He would know who they were in the fullness of time.

It once again seemed like months, but he realized it had been years, when the Dark Man finally came to him. "You are a man, now," he said. The boy nodded, unsure what else to do. "It is time you found some...associates your own age," he decided, hesitating over his choice of words.

"You're bringing me friends?" he asked, hesitating to ask about his brother.

"No, and no," the Dark Man replied. "You will not see your family. You will seek out associates with which to confer for the next stage of your education."

The boy's face froze for a brief second at the second "no". The Dark Man could read his thoughts, he realized, but this also piqued his curiosity. "Who then?"

The Dark Man slid a small glass panel across the table. A group of humans was on it. Obviously a mother and her children, no matter the fact only one of the three teens had similar skin coloring, the other two were differing darker shades. He looked closer. She looked familiar, somehow?

"Sarah Jane Smith," the Dark Man informed him. "Her young protégés, Luke Smith, Clyde, and Rani." The last name was said with slight derision.

"This is to be my new family?" he inquired.

"No. You will ask the Smiths to join you on your quest," he informed the boy.

"What if they refuse?" he asked.

"Then you must make them forget they saw you."

The boy was about to ask what he meant when he looked up into the Dark Man's hood shadowed face. He nodded understanding.

"How will I get to them?" he asked instead.

"I will take you to her," said then motioned to the closet. "Now get dressed."

The boy had only worn a one piece jumpsuit under his robes before now, aside from a singlet when in the gym, or trunks when swimming, so to find a selection of clothes similar to those he remembered in his youth in his closet was a surprise. He quickly shed his jumpsuit and began trying on the selection of outfits before him. He eventually settled on a button down shirt with floating triangles, slacks, and a short scarf that reminded him slightly of one of his father's older portraits. He looked at himself in the mirror and noticed the Dark Man had come up behind him.

"Hipster," he hissed in slight contempt and ran a hand through the boy's dark curls, mussing them. "There. That is what they will see." He then went to the door. "Come along, boy."

He followed the Dark Man to another room he had never been in before. The man went to a panel in the wall and typed in something the boy could not see. The next thing he knew, they were outside a house.

"They are not home yet. Wait for them, extend your offer," the Dark Man instructed.

The boy found the door unlocked and entered, looking around at the furnishings.

"Alert! Alert! Intruder!" came a mechanical voice.

The boy spun around to see...no one? Then he noticed the red light coming from below. "K9?" he asked tentatively.

The mechanical dog's ears rotated, he could hear the computer humming inside the metal casing. "Master?"

The boy dropped to his knees and held the dog's head. "K9? But how?" he started to ask, then realized. "No, a different model, but- yes, it is you, K9, isn't it?"

"Affirmative, Master."

"Where is everyone?" he inquired.

"Mistress," he replied slowly, lowering his head. "Mistress is...gone."

"I don't understand? Gone where?"

More ear twisting. "Strangers came. Exterminated Mistress." This time, the voice seemed uncertain.

"Wait, you're saying she's dead?" he realized.

"Affirmative," he replied, sadness evident in his voice.

The boy looked toward the door, licked his lips hesitantly. "Tell me everything."

The tin dog did as he was ordered. As he finished, he asked where this "Mr. Smith" was. K9 informed him to take the stairs, levitating up behind him. Once in the attic office, he saw the wall was opened to reveal a computer far in advance of anything he recalled from his youth on the estate. The Dark Man brushed past him and typed in a command despite the AI's protests. In seconds, "Mr. Smith" fell silent and closed itself into the wall.

"Why did you do that?"

"To keep from alerting others," the Dark Man said.

"Do what, Master?" K9 answered at the same time.

"The dog can not see me," he told the boy. "Now go back downstairs."

The boy nodded and went to wait for someone to come home. The Dark Man followed, handing him a rod. "If they refuse, use this on them to make them forget," he instructed.

The boy nodded. It wasn't long before Luke and Clyde returned and refused his offer of traveling with him. He almost felt guilty, but he knew better than to question his master. He patted the dog before he left, also erasing his memory before leaving.

Outside, the Dark Man was waiting for him. "You erased their memories?"

He held up the rod. "As you instructed."

The Dark Man grabbed the boy by the shoulders and they stepped back several days in time. "Now, it is time to ask her."

The boy looked around in confusion. He had felt them move, but they were still in the same place. "Her who?"

He pointed at the door. "Sarah Jane Smith."

The boy nodded and entered the house once more.

"Luke? Is that you? You're home early?" she called out on hearing the door. She came out from the kitchen to see the boy. "Oh, I'm sorry, are you one of Luke's friends?"

The boy stammered. "Um, not really. I came here to see you."

"You go to school with Luke? Or Clyde and Rani?"

He shook his head. Despite her age, she still held a certain beauty. A friendly, welcoming smile. "I'm, um, I'm here to ask you-?"

"Yes?"

"I need you to come with me." It wasn't a request.

She gave him a questioning look. "I'm sorry, what did you say your name was?" she took a half step back.

"We, ah, we know someone in common," was all he could think.

Her tone became nervous. "Who are you?" she asked again, before calling out, "K9!"

"You need to come with me," he insisted. He reached out.

She stumbled backwards, grabbing her purse and began digging through it until her fingers grasped a familiar device. She pointed it at him, twisting it as she did so. "Stay away from me!"

"You don't understand-" he stammered as he saw K9 descend the stairs, nose gun pointed at him. "K9!" he blurted without thinking. "It's me! We just met...again."

"What?" she gasped.

K9's ears rotated, examining him again. "Master?" he asked.

"Close enough," he replied, finally having a semi-familiar face to ease him through this next part. He looked back to Sarah Jane.

She raised her small, golden tube at him again. "Who are you?" she demanded.

"My father called me Alistaire," he told her.

Her face went from confusion, to denial, to ...she studied him a long moment. "Your father?"

"Hello, Sarah Jane," he forced a smile and tugged on his scarf.

"That idiot!" she scolded the absent Time Lord. "Why didn't he tell me before?" she laughed, clasping her hands to her mouth. She then held her hands out to him.

He didn't move.

"Alistaire?" she inquired.

"Are you coming with me?" was all he said.

"Well, I- I mean, I can't. I have too much to do-" The words caught in her throat. Her chest tightened. The room was spinning. She saw a small black rod in his hand, a red light on the end as she fell.

"Pick her up," the Dark Man ordered.

Alistaire knelt before her. "Will she be okay?"

"Put her on the sofa. We are done here."

Alistaire did as he was told. Her foot and one arm dangled down, loose. He admired her beauty for a moment more. Surely she had stories to tell him about his father? About the man he was named after? She understood who he was with just a name. Surely-

"Come, boy."

The next thing he knew, he was back in his room.

"Back to your lessons."

"Will she- I mean, was she okay?"

"What's done is done," he said and turned away.

His lessons now included tutorials on his father's enemies. Their strengths and weaknesses. The rare alliances between them, and how they could be manipulated. How his father had meddled in their affairs.

"What is all this for?" he asked, one day.

"Know thy enemy," was all his tutor said. Alistaire couldn't help but think the man looked more familiar with every passing day, but shrugged it off. He hadn't known very many people in his life. So what if one looked like ...him?

Some time later, the tutor informed him "We're going on a trip." Alistaire found his uniform now laid out before him.

"Where?"

"Do as you are told, boy." It was said in the same demeanor that the Dark Man ordered him about. He dressed and followed the tutor to the same transmat he had visited Sarah Jane's house before. His hopes on visiting her again were dashed when they arrived on a starship. The tutor pulled out a rifle Alistaire had not noticed before, then handed him a satchel. "Set these charges where I tell you," he instructed.

Alistaire followed and did as he was told. Each time a crewman came upon them, the tutor opened fire, killing them. Alistaire thought it lucky there weren't very many living crew on board.

There were, however, robots. Simple in design, they were almost archaic in their clockwork construction and external dress. When all was said and done, the tutor gathered the Clockworks in the hold. Alistaire expected them to be scrap in moments, but the tutor had other ideas.

"Your crew is dead. You must repair. Do you understand?" He held out another satchel to one.

Clicking and whirring was the only reply. "Repair." they finally said. Most began to wander off, chanting "Repair."

Two remained. "Come with me," the tutor instructed and the quartet returned to the place Alistaire had left. The tutor strode off, the Clockworks and the boy followed him to the workshop.

He turned to Alistaire. "Now we begin Phase Two."

Alistaire had no idea how long the next task took. They disassembled and reassembled the Clockworks twice, thrice, and again. Until he could do it without effort. Until he understood their mechanics better than biology.

Finally, the tutor seemed impressed enough that he declared "Phase Two-Point-Two now begins." He began instructing Alistaire in self-replicating robots, automata that could blend in with their surroundings.

After many more months, Alistaire began to recall two incidents from his childhood. "I understand," he told his tutor one day.

"Do you?" he asked. He then handed the boy another device. "Show me," was all he said.

Alistaire examined the strap, it looked familiar, as well, something his mother used to wear, he vaguely recalled. He pressed a button and found himself in another room.

The Dark Man was waiting for him. "Shall we begin?"

Alistaire looked at him in confusion. The Dark Man pointed to a window. He saw a young boy, confused and separated from his family for the first time, peeking around his lodgings for the first time.

"Do you really understand, boy?" the Dark Man asked.

Alistaire entered the room and began tutoring his younger self. "Shall we begin?" he echoed the Dark Man.

After he had taught himself all he could, he was instructed to watch as the Dark Man took his teen self back into the past. He returned with a somber expression.

He began to understand the bigger picture.

The subsequent years followed suit. He would educate himself on a subject, claim understanding, then find himself his own tutor.

He rebuilt a vortex manipulator, enhanced one of the Clockworks into Kamelion, and again into a more advanced bioform. The Clockwork called Kamelion soon disappeared. He did not ask to where.

The Dark Man finally approached the adult Alistaire one day. "Now we have your ultimate test. You will now find yourself dealing with others. You will return to Earth and commandeer the group known as UNIT." The Dark Man slid a folder across the table. "This is who you will control. A list of opportunities to take, recruit these aliens for assistance."

Alistaire flipped through the images to find a gruff, middle-aged blond man in a suit, his younger blue suited assistant, various underlings, several discreet pictures of the man he knew to be Jack Harkness and his Torchwood teams over the years, then a list of incidents he was to take advantage of, and more images of aliens that were not native to Earth: Raxacoricofallapatorians, CatKind, Daleks, several upgrades of Cybermen, among others. One did not have any photos other than a vat of white liquid. He soon understood that the liquid known as "Flesh" or "Doppelganger" could take the form of anyone. He realized it was the advanced form of his Kamelion bioform.

"Do you understand?" the Dark Man inquired again.

"I am beginning to," he replied.

"What will you call yourself while among them?"

"I do not know. Can I not use Alistaire?"

"You must abandon that name and all that goes with it."

"Abandon?" he inquired, then realized the truth. Yes, he must. He must abandon all. He looked up at the Dark Man. "Abaddon."

"Excellent," the Dark Man said and turned away to let Alistaire tend to his duties.

Alistaire found a suit in his room. Dark charcoal with pinstripes. He donned it and grabbed his rebuilt vortex manipulator. He entered the coordinates the file provided and found himself in a Terran flat. No one was home, he soon saw, but it wasn't furnished much better than his own quarters. The main difference was he saw it had two bedrooms. While both held a bed, only had any evidence of being used with a few changes of male and (scanty) female clothing. The other was stripped bare, nothing to be found in the closets.

He hadn't been there long before he heard someone outside the door, unlocking it. A middle-aged man and his young female companion entered, both varying degrees of blond, he noted. She reminded him of another he had seen long ago in his father's files. They were laughing at some private joke before he turned on the light and saw the intruder.

She let out a startled yelp as the man pushed her behind him. "Who are you?" he bristled, fists clenching.

"Lord James Gloucester, I presume?"

"Who are you?" he demanded again.

"Your new master," he explained as he pointed to the floor, mentally pushing them. The couple fell at his feet, stupefied. He knelt down and looked into Gloucester's eyes. "You will obey me," he ordered, then looked to the woman. "You, however, were unexpected." He brushed her dirty blonde curls out of her face. "Hello, Belle," he greeted her, pulling her name from her mind.

An annoyed grunt came from Gloucester, who was fighting the rigor that possessed his body. "Don't worry, James, we have all weekend to get to know each other," he smiled.

The next two days were spent reconditioning his captives. By the end of it, they were only too willing to obey him, bent to his will but not broken.

Gloucester reported to work on the Valiant that Monday slightly exhausted, and accompanied by his new assistant. Belew protested only once before he, too, fell under the subjugation of Abaddon. Several more fell to his control before the day was out, and he was completely in charge of the helicarrier barely a day later.

His current objective, however, was deep in the belly of the carrier: in the specially adapted prison cells for certain "guests" of the dwindling British Empire. Some had fallen through the Rift near Cardiff, but Torchwood was not as quick as the troops on this craft in capturing them. Others had simply been captured after various attempts at invasion had failed. Gloucester's files indicated these weren't the only alien prisoners of war on this planet, as the Americans and a few others held more as some sort of show of trust between these paltry nationstates. The ones he had were more than adequate in order for the plan to go forward.

TBC...