Chapter 3: Another Fine Mess
She had a bad feeling about this. Sure, it was a cliché of the worst sort. Repeated over and over again in Star Wars and many, many other movies. But it was true. It worked especially well when one was the companion of the Doctor. Between the surprises he loved springing on them and the surprises that he did not, it was a wonder that she had managed to retain some semblance of sanity.
The Doctor had asked for a chronon detector. In the lab. She had rarely walked into the room, or even had cause to do so, but the first thought that had crossed her mind when she heard his request was that he was a nutter. Find one device, just one, in the jumble of tubes, wires, boxes, chemicals, beakers, metal bits, and odds and ends that was the lab?
Yeah, right.
He was a nutter. A lovable, sexy nutter. But a nutter all the same.
She stared about her with a lost expression. If she were a chronon detector, where would she hide herself? If she were a chronon detector, what would she look like? She should have gone for the guns while Jack looked for the detector. At least she would have a decent chance of picking something out that would work. Here, she was lost. Useless.
A chronon detector? She looked along the walls, under the benches, in drawers and cabinets. Of course, he had not labelled anything. That would make too much sense. Had to make things difficult for her. Typical.
That was when she spotted it. It sat in plain sight, precariously perched atop a massive pile of wires. The flashing lights meant little to her, but the tiny text helpfully translated by the TARDIS did.
Dante-Kasume Chronoscope VXIV
Chronoscope. Had to be it. She plucked the device off the table and tucked it under her arm. There. Now all she had to do was get Jack and get back to the Doctor. She was under no illusions that in the space of time they had been gone he had got into trouble. It was the Doctor, after all. He did not have to look for trouble; it found him.
She headed out of the lab, hefting the device to a more comfortable position against her side as she walked. Just what the Doctor needed a chronoscope for was beyond her. If anything, it would make a decent blunt object to smack him with should he have moved an inch away from the stelae.
Jack smiled at her as she walked into the console room. "Ready?"
"Yeah. The quicker we get back to him the better." She definitely had a bad feeling about this. She knew that he was gone. The Doctor was gone. Not dead, but gone. Wandered off somewhere without them and fell into a cenote or got himself captured by a native tribe. Something. He certainly would not be next to the stelae.
She knew him.
And now she kicked herself for not insisting that either she or Jack stay with him.
"He'll be fine, Rose," Jack said, brushing her cheek with his lips. He hefted his bulging rucksack and opened the doors, gesturing for her to precede him outside.
She grimaced as her shoes sank into the moist dirt of the jungle. The weight of the chronoscope was not helping any as she fought her way across the ground, but she was determined. She was going to get to the Doctor. As fast as possible.
The pyramid loomed above them as they forced their way back through foliage that, to her anxious mind, seemed to fight against their passage. Faster. Faster.
The last of the brush was pushed away and her fears were confirmed. No Doctor.
No note.
Surprise!
She was going to kill him. With the chronoscope.
Shit.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. He should've known. Should've guessed. Should've tied the Doctor to the stelae before leaving and taken away his sonic screwdriver or sat Rose down next to him and gone on the errand alone. Damnit. He was going to kill him right after he kissed him.
"Go ahead and put down the chronoscope, Rose. I'll do a search for him." He dumped the backpack at his feet and flipped open his wristcomm. Feelings of déjà vu overwhelmed him as he scanned for alien technology.
Oh.
Not good.
Shit. The wristcomm was brilliant in its readouts. Alien tech was everywhere. Below them, around them, in the pyramid before them. They were surrounded by it, and it was not good. Not good at all, because he had little chance of finding the Doctor in this mess.
He typed quickly, changing the parameters of the search. Bi-vascular system. That should do it.
But it did not. The wristcomm's sensors must be broken. The Doctor was a member of the only race he knew of that had a bi-vasc…
Oh. Oh no. Not them.
"Fantastic," he said bitterly, deliberately using the previous incarnation of the Doctor's favourite word.
"What?" Rose demanded. "What is it?"
"Silurians."
"Who?" Her brow furrowed in confusion.
"Your lizard-men. Nasty race. Can't stand us primates and keep trying to reclaim the Earth. This would be the perfect launching ground for an invasion. Remote, isolated, and no one would think of checking old ruins for an invasion force." He felt exposed next to the stelae. Rose's brightly coloured shirt and the low hum of the chronoscope suddenly seemed to call attention to them. In his imagination, the forest was suddenly full of enemies. "We've got to get the Doctor and get out of here."
She nodded. "Did you find him, though?"
He tapped on the wristcomm once more, narrowing the parameters of his search. This time, he added the criteria of warm-blooded.
There.
"Yes. He's in the pyramid."
He eyed the debris-strewn side of the pyramid before turning his attention to the steps. Their best chance of finding the Doctor would be to climb the steps and look through the temple. Knowing his lover, the man probably struggled up those steps and looked for an entrance. He really was going to kill him.
"Then what're we waiting for?" Rose asked.
He turned toward her and grabbed her hand. "Rose, there's something you need to know about Silurians. They're ruthless and they don't stop. Even if you run, they don't stop. To them, we're worthless creatures that should be destroyed. And there's something else you need to know. They can make you scared. I don't mean the usual fear that everyone feels in a situation like this, I mean animalistic fear. It can fill your mind and make you want to run and hide despite your best interests or your own desires. It can paralyse you." He would not think about it, not now. He refused to think about it.
"Can you fight it off?"
"Sometimes," he admitted. "But only sometimes. Our best shot is to keep out of sight, and move slowly. Which means we need to be very careful from here on out. I don't want to attract their attention."
"Right." Her expression was determined as she looked at the pyramid, and he smiled. Even in the face of what could very well be a disaster, she showed courage. The Doctor was in danger. It overrode everything and anything else for her and he knew it would be just the same if he were in trouble. She really was a remarkable woman.
"Let's go."
The climb to the top was long and arduous, made doubly so by the carryall that he refused to leave behind. One never knew just what sort of weaponry might be required, and for Silurians he suspected that he would need as many as possible. When they reached the temple, all sounds seemed to be muted. The only evidence of anyone's passage was the scuff marks in the dirt on the floor left behind by the Doctor's shoes.
Rose's startled gasp caught his attention and his blaster was drawn before he realised that she was not in danger. She had fallen to the floor, fingering the brown fabric of the Doctor's trench-coat. "Where is he?"
He frowned. The Doctor did not just randomly shed clothes - not when there wasn't a bed nearby and he wasn't involved, at least. There had to be a reason. A tunnel where it would be too cumbersome to continue to wear the coat was a decent possibility. He reached into his carryall and pulled out his flashlight. The afternoon sun had long since passed overhead, leaving the temple cast in shadows. Perhaps, in the light, he would be able to find the entrance that the Doctor had used. Then, it would just be a matter of finding the Doctor.
Scratch.
He froze in mid-movement, his hand barely touching the switch to turn on the flashlight.
Scratch, click.
It was coming from outside, and there was only one entrance to the temple. He met Rose's eyes, using his head to gesture toward the only cover in the room - the altar. She held onto the Doctor's coat as she crouched behind the altar. He did a quick search of the area and once satisfied that they had left no other obvious evidence of their presence, he knelt beside her. His hand clenched and unclenched around the handle of the sonic blaster.
Click, click, click.
He identified the sound as the noise made by claws hitting against the ancient stone. Silurians. They were coming.
Click, click, click, scratch.
They were here.
The time for formalities was over. It was almost unheard of for Geneva to reactivate someone's commission, especially when one had reached his age, unless something dreadful had happened. That the Doctor was firmly embroiled in the problem was unsurprising. That he was reactivated, though, was.
He pushed aside the cup of tea that Bambera had offered him upon his arrival at HQ. "What's going on?"
Winifred sighed as she fingered the handle of her tea mug. "I received a phone call yesterday from an old friend of ours. Liz told me that she had been escorted - by a pair of armed agents - from her university offices at Imperial and taken to an office building on the outskirts of London. Once there, she was asked several pointed questions about the Doctor. When she proved uncooperative, the interrogator introduced himself - Agent Harrison Baker of MI-5. He told her that he was under direct orders from the Prime Minister."
The Prime Minister. He repeated the words in his mind, a roiling anger growing deep within his chest. What did she think she was doing? "What is she doing?"
Bambera leaned forward, resting the palms of her hands against the desktop. "That's what I want to know, Alistair. Liz is not the only one. I've received calls from Jo, Sarah Jane Smith, Mel Bush..."
He knew where this was leading. Alistair pinched the bridge of his nose. "Did any of them say what the questions were? What did Harriet want to know?"
"Liz could only relate a few of the questions. She told me that, once Agent Baker revealed his agency, she demanded to see a solicitor. But, up to that point, Baker was mostly interested in learning about the Doctor's experiences here on Earth. He seemed especially attentive to times when he was injured."
He pushed away from the desk and stood. He had to pace, had to move. "And we're certain that Baker is MI-5?"
"Yes," Bambera said. "He checked out. Major Fields reported that Baker was assigned to detached duty to 10 Downing Street according to his Director."
"And have you confirmed that Baker's orders came from the Prime Minister?" Alistair paused in his pacing when he noted Winifred's irritated look. "I have to ask."
"I know. I'd do the same in your place, and we're as certain as we can be without directly asking Harriet Jones ourselves. I'll be frank with you, Alistair. These questions have Geneva nervous on several accounts. A number of former UNIT employees, with high security clearances, have been brought in for questioning. That they're asking about the Doctor only cinches it. It's only a matter of time before they try to get to members of the military. I've already assigned Colonels Benton and Yates to duties outside of London."
Ah. He suddenly understood why he had been reactivated. It was not because they needed his help. It was because they believed he needed their protection. He sighed. "I will not run from them, Winifred. Nor will I stand for this."
Winifred ran her hand through her shortly cropped hair. "I'm not expecting you to. But, there's something else Geneva wanted me to ask. Can you contact the Doctor?"
He resumed his pacing. Could he contact the Doctor? Of course he could. All he had to do was pick up the phone. But should he? There had to be something that he could do from his end before he worried the Doctor about the Prime Minister's actions. "I can," he admitted. "But, before I do, I want to talk to Dr Shaw and Mrs. Jones to see if I can gain any insight into just what Harriet is after."
"Certainly. I've set aside the office two doors down for your use." She pressed a button on her phone and a young man opened the office door and stood to one side. "Corporal Ashton will be your liaison while you're here. However, I'm afraid that I will have to restrict your movements."
Her expression was pained as she met his furious gaze. "I'm sorry Alistair, but those are my orders. I can bring whomever you want to you, but you cannot leave these grounds."
Thoughts of his retired life suddenly seemed far more favourable than this rigmarole. "And what about Doris?"
"I've got one of my officers watching out for her. She'll be fine."
"How long am I...stuck here?" he asked though he already knew the answer.
Bambera smiled sadly. "I'll see you later, Alistair."
He really was getting too old for this.
Of all the stupid, idiotic, careless things to do. Of course he had done it. He had walked right into it. A trap. Stupid, stupid, stupid. And he called Rose jeopardy-friendly. Now he was stuck in the same maddening circumstances as ever. Only new aspect was that he was in darkness. He searched his surroundings by touch and felt cold metal bars. He was in a cage. Again.
Same old, same old.
Captured. Stuck. Outwitted by a loose stone and an ancient booby-trap. Surrounded by what he suspected were Silurians, with no light source since the one he had been using had broken his fall, and trapped. Brilliant, fantastic. It was just the sort of thing to make his day.
No. He was not the sort of man to mope about what sort of circumstances he found himself in. He was the sort of man to escape, cause trouble, disturb the peace, and make as much mischief for his enemies as possible.
He had an ace up his sleeve, a trick, something that they couldn't anticipate, something that they didn't know he had. With a smile, he slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out his sonic screwdriver.
Thumbing the switch, his prison was bathed in deep blue light.
Click. Clickety-clickety-click-click.
Something was coming. Something, judging from the speed and cadence of the clicks, large and in a hurry.
Click, click, click, click, click.
Before he could turn off the sonic screwdriver, he caught a glimpse of sharp teeth widened into a snarl, and claws stretched toward him. It ran forward, the sharp clicks of its claws against the floor echoing alarmingly in the enclosed space. Velociraptor mongoliensis was apparently hungry.
And it wanted him.
He shut off the sonic screwdriver.
And was left in darkness.
CRASH
Chalk up the tally. Score: Doctor -1, Velociraptor mongoliensis - 0. The appearance of the dinosaur confirmed his suspicions. He was dealing with the Silurians. The only question was whether they were after the same tired goal - Earth and the destruction of the human race. Some species were too predictable.
The snarling of the downed velociraptor quietened and he became aware of a change in his surroundings. It was growing brighter.
He heard sounds in the hallway and he straightened his posture. Wouldn't do to slouch on the job. That was especially true when he would get to indulge in his favourite pastime - forcing the local megalomaniac to monologue. He grinned as a torch rounded the corner, held by a large clawed hand. Definitely a Silurian.
"Hello!" he said before he could see the Silurian's face. "This how you treat all your prisoners? Send in Fido to get them to talk?" His good humour failed him when he finally saw his enemy's face. He knew this one, knew him far too well. This particular Silurian should not exist. Could not exist.
He could not exist because he had destroyed him and the entire alternate Earth. This Silurian could not exist because he was supposed to be dead. Time Rams do not leave much room for error.
"Oh," he said rather eloquently.
"Doctor," Morka snarled. "I'm pleased to see you again. This time, there will be no errors."
Wasn't that just fantastic?
To be continued...