CHAPTER 50

OUTGOING MESSAGES

Just as Jason had stated, the Alterran military had been protected from the ultrasonic attack thanks to an elaborate jamming system embedded in the emblem on their uniforms. There had been no malfunctions in the system, leaving Commander SorRell's troops at full strength.

The Commander had been in the her temporary command center near the Grand Council Chamber when the transmission came through and ordered her communications officer to locate the source, only to have the Doctor's jamming signal cut off all incoming and outgoing transmissions. This left her with a second and considerably closer problem. Who, other than her own people, possessed the skill, knowledge, and equipment needed to jam the signal? Where were they operating from? And more importantly, were they friend or foe?

"We have no one capable of doing such a thing," President G'rl'k was saying. "That knowledge was lost centuries ago."

"What about your grandson l'X'el?" the Commander asked. "The Doctor tells me he's quite adept at manipulating signals." SorRell had been informed that the Doctor would be dropping off his Wieonol charges, but had wrongly assumed he would depart immediately afterward.

G'rl'k snorted derisively. "My grandson is adept at manipulating situations and getting himself into trouble." At that moment K'ell'k and Pr'Ce'el arrived, and he waved a hand in their direction. "You see? Here's the other one, and now he's brought a friend along." Then to K'ell'k he said sharply, "Well, what trouble are you in now?"

K'ell'k looked his Grandfather in the eye and for the first time in his life did not flinch or turn away. He drew himself to his full height and squared his shoulders. "I'm here on behalf of Ambassador Krystovan," he announced proudly. He crossed to Commander SorRell, handing her Jason's collar of rank. "He told me to give you this as proof since I wasn't able to meet you in person on Heladin Alpha."

SorRell examined the collar and nodded, handing it back to the young man. "It's genuine," she verified, throwing a quick glance in the flabbergasted President's direction.

K'ell'k delivered the inquiry concerning the troops, but did not inform her of Jason's medical status per the Doctor's orders, as he felt the news would very likely distract her from the already formidable task of protecting Enol against the Gres-Fa-Raayn Elite. K'ell'k went on to tell the Commander of the unknown fleet on an intercept course with the planet, and the Time Lord's plan to warn her reinforcements. "They sent us because, well…" He glanced over at Pr'Ce'el, who still had his arm in a sling. What a pair we make, he thought, the walking wounded. He had lost his own long hair—his pride and joy—when Jason had operated on his brain to save his life. Now he hid his bald head beneath a traditional Wieonol head covering, something he was sure is Grandfather did not approve of. With a shrug, he said finally, "We can't exactly help with any of the technical stuff."

"Don't apologize," SorRell replied, waving Lieutenant Torr over. "I think you may be able to help me."

The process of moving Jason had been simplified by the fact that he had been placed on one of the sleeping mats. His friends had simply used the mat to carry him into the console room where Grant would be able to keep watch over both him and the console.

The Doctor double-checked the controls to make certain the jamming signal had not weakened before giving Grant a quick rundown of what readings to monitor. "They've stopped transmitting," he observed with a hint of surprise. "But that won't stop them starting up again if we stop broadcasting." He made another check on the long-range scanner, scowling at the approaching unknown fleet.

"Any idea who they might be?" Grant asked as the image reappeared on the viewer.

"Still too far out for an accurate reading. But I wouldn't be surprised if they turned out to be Gres-Fa-Raayn Elite forces," the Time Lord speculated.

"Is that bad?"

"Let me put it this way. The Elite forces make Buckley and company look like boy scouts."

"Great."

"Well, this should hold for a bit more," the Doctor announced, giving the console a loving pat. "Let's see about getting hold of the Imperial fleet, shall we?" He started toward the exterior doors, stopping when Jason quietly called his name.

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

A ghost of a smile passed over the Time Lord's face. "You're welcome. You rest and get your strength back," he said gently. Then to Grant, he said crisply, "And you, keep these doors locked. If the jamming signal fails, don't open them for anyone—and that includes me."

On the Gres-Fa-Raayn ship, Commander Tre-Aal's crew were attempting to override the Doctor's jamming signal. When the informant who had supplied the information on the Alterrans' weaknesses could not be located, the science and communications officers took over the task of finding a way to break through the barrier. Tre-Aal watched almost dispassionately as one attempt after another failed. When the most recent attempt failed, his men merely sighed and waited for the computer analysis.

A ghost of a smile passed over the Commander's face and he settled further back in his command chair. He even allowed himself to feel a flush of pride. They were the Elite! The best the Gres-Fa-Raayn had to offer, and no has-been race and its alien protection force would get the better of them.

Uncertain what to do with himself, Grant circled the control console, pausing to check the readings after each circuit. While he was glad to be inside the TARDIS and out of harm's way, he was also guilty for feeling this way. Despite the fact that he was supposed to be looking after Jason, it did not seem to him that the Alterran needed looking after. He was still breathing quite heavily, but did not appear to be in too much pain. Well, as long as he did not move too much, that is. He had not spoken since the Doctor left and seemed to be doing exactly as ordered. Resting.

The youth nearly jumped out of his skin when Jason suddenly spoke. "Grant, will you please stop pacing and settle down," he said quietly. "You're going to wear out the floor."

"Sorry. Nervous energy," Grant replied guiltily. "I don't usually pace."

"I do, ironically."

"Are you alright? Can I…get you anything?"

"Some water would be nice. I didn't mention it before, but I'm getting dehydrated. A side effect of the lattice damage," Jason replied softly, wincing as he shifted his position. "I could do with a truckload of analgesics, too, if you can manage it."

Grant nodded before remembering the Alterran could not see him. "I'll be right back, okay?"

"Okay." Jason closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Despite being in the safety of the console room, he did not fancy the prospect of being left completely alone. He tried to concentrate on something positive, but kept coming back to his recent feelings of resentment at being constantly brushed aside. Even at his own summit meeting! The Doctor had completely taken over, making him feel surplus to requirements. Jason knew this was just the Time Lord's way, but his current regeneration only seemed to have magnified the problem. Or was it something else? When the Doctor had asked about anything on his mission being classified, did he really suspect a hidden agenda? Was there something in Jason's own future that had caused his friend to suspect he would be capable of something like that? Was this the reason the Doctor now seemed so critical of his actions?

"Oh, this is real positive thinking," he muttered darkly. "Keep it up, Krystovan, and you'll be suicidal in no time."

The moment he emerged from the TARDIS, the Doctor instructed l'X'el to locate the Alterran fleet carrying SorRell's reinforcements. The boy took a seat at one of the working podiums and set to work. While he was doing this, the Time Lord rummaged in his toolbox, pulling out what looked like spare parts that he began wiring together.

"Just what are we trying to accomplish exactly?" l'X'el asked, his eyes moving from the computer screen before him to the globe and back again.

"I rather thought that was obvious," came the tart reply.

"Not entirely. If your TARDIS can protect the Ambassador from the ultrasonics, why not just shut down the jamming signal and call the Alterran fleet directly?"

The Doctor looked up, fighting the urge to issue a crushing reply. "Alright. Say we do that. What would stop our friends in orbit from jamming us?"

"Oh. I didn't think of that," l'X'el said in an embarrassed tone. "Kay would have."

"Would he?" The Doctor raised an eyebrow. Before he could remark further, the globe flared and the image of the Alterran Imperial fleet came into crisp focus. "Ah, now we're getting somewhere," he said happily. "See if you can get a fix on the lead ship."

"I can do you one better. I can look in on the bridge," l'X'el informed. "The only thing is, we can hear them but they can't hear us."

Holding up the object he had been piecing together, the Doctor smiled broadly. "That's where this comes in."

"I don't understand."

"We're not going to send a conventional communication. With this and the manipulator, we're going to open our own temporal corridor."

l'X'el's eyes practically fell out of his head. "Do you mean a time fissure?"

"If you like."

"Doctor, those are incredibly unstable!" the Wieonol exploded. "They're even harder to control than the temporal distortion."

"My dear l'X'el, I am a Time Lord. I do know what I'm doing when it comes to manipulating Time."

"I know, but…"

The Doctor waved a hand to silence him. "Oh, do be quiet and do as you're told," he said impatiently.