Chapter 7

The Grange

Professor Arthur Crimm, OBE, Director of the UNIT Research Facility at The Grange in Dunwich, awoke in a state of confusion. He lived in the village as a tenant of one of landowner Gordon Zellaby's cottages, which was paid for by UNIT. When his eyes fluttered open, the first thing he noticed was the hint of daylight behind the closed curtains. It should have been 10 o'clock at night.

The next thing he noticed was that he was lying face down on the floor, with an overturned cup of drinking chocolate an arms length away from him, and an apparently dry pool of chocolate staining the carpet. He stirred with difficulty, and gave out a sound like a half-groan before shivering uncontrollably. He did not think he had ever felt quite so cold. It went right through so that every fibre ached with it.

"Have I had a stroke", he thought to himself, and set out to test the hypothesis. Although stiff and numb, he moved his right arm and reached towards the cup. He couldn't feel the cup but assumed that was due to the pins and needles in his fingers. His left arm was worse. His forearm was under his body and the blood supply had been restricted. When he rolled onto his back, his hand and fingers burned agonisingly with the return of blood and sensation.

'Not a stroke then,' he said to himself with an aching and reluctant jaw. Another sensation that clamoured for his attention came from his bladder, which felt as though it would explode if it wasn't soon emptied.

With his elbows, and then his hands, he managed to sit up. Then, using the armchair, he managed to get to his knees, and finally to his feet. He stood for a moment as the pins and needles in his feet subsided, and the feeling returned to his stiff legs. He managed to part crawl and part haul himself up the stairs to the bathroom, where he emptied his bladder and suddenly felt a whole lot better.

He found that coming down the stairs was far easier than going up, and by the time he had reached the bottom, he felt ready to venture outside. He put on his long, warm overcoat that was hanging by the front door, selected a stout walking cane from the umbrella stand, and set off for the short walk up the lane to The Grange. He stopped at the next cottage along, and looked at its smouldering shell. What the hell had been going on?

He passed the entrance to the Abbey, and noticed that further along the lane there was a tall, thin man with unruly hair, who was wearing a long brown coat over a brown pinstripe suit, and incongruously what appeared to be white plimsolls. He didn't recall having seen this person in the village before, and wondered if he might know what had happened.

'EXCUSE ME . . . YOU THERE,' he shouted. The man stopped and turned to look at him, his hands in the pockets of his coat.

'Oh, hello there,' John said cheerfully. 'How are you?'

'Stiff and confused. But otherwise quite well,' Arthur replied. 'And you would be?'

John took his Torchwood ID out of his pocket and held it up as Arthur approached. 'I would be Doctor John Smith. Scientific Consultant to the Torchwood Institute . . . And you?'

'Oh yes. You're that scientist fellow on the television. Arthur Crimm, Director of the Research Facility at The Grange here in Dunwich,' Arthur told him.

John gave him an open mouthed smile 'Oh brilliant! I was just on my way up there to see if everything is all right. We could walk together and you could tell me what kind of research you do there.'

'We can certainly walk together,' Arthur agreed, setting off towards the stone bordered gateway. 'But I'm afraid our research is classified.'

John pulled a face. 'Classified, shmassified. I've got clearance.'

Arthur started up the gravelled drive which went straight towards the grey stone building, and then formed a circle around a tree in front of the gabled entrance. 'I doubt an employee of a privately owned institute on the television would have security clearance for a UNIT facility,' Arthur scoffed.

'Oh I don't know,' John said, scratching the back of his neck. 'We'll see. But I can give you a hand and see if everyone is all right can't I?'

'Er, yes. That would be very public spirited of you. Thank you.'

Inside the grand house were men and women of various ages wandering about discussing the current situation and trying to work out what was going on. Some were in UNIT uniforms, whilst others were in their own clothing.

Arthur approached a man in uniform. 'Sergeant Decker. What's our status?'

'Ah, Professor. Good to see you Sir. Were you affected too?'

Whilst the Sergeant updated the professor, John wandered through the large reception hall, looking at the portraits on the walls and appreciating the Victorian architecture. He saw a woman with short auburn hair in her early thirties, wearing jeans, baggy sweatshirt and trainers.

'Hello,' he said with his charming smile. 'I'm Doctor John Smith. How is everybody here?' he asked as an opening gambit.

'Yes. Of course you are,' she replied, matching his smile and shaking his hand. 'Doctor Margaret Haxby, and as far as we can tell, everyone is okay. We seem to have lost a day and a half though. Do you know anything about that? As Professor Crimm has just arrived, I'm presuming that what ever affected us wasn't just localised to The Grange.'

'Yep. Your reasoning is sound. An area in a one mile radius around the village was affected. Everything with a nervous system was put into a coma,' John told her.

'Really? Wow. What could have caused that?'

'Absolutely no idea. We've been camped at the edge of the effect trying to find out, but we've drawn a blank.' He looked around as though searching for something. 'Anywhere we can get a cup of tea? I'm gasping,' he asked, redirecting the conversation.

'Er, yeah, sure. There's a cafeteria through here.' She led him through a doorway into a room with rows of tables and chairs.

Many of the resident staff were warming themselves up with hot drinks and tucking into packets of digestive biscuits. Margaret collected two styrofoam cups of tea and led John to a table.

'Thanks,' John said as he sipped the tea. 'So what do you do here then Margaret?'

'Ah. I'm afraid the research we do here is classified?' she told him.

'Oh I know that. Arthur's already given me the party line. No, I mean what do YOU do. What's your doctorate in?'

'Oh I see. Quantum physics.'

John raised his eyebrows in delight. 'Oh brilliant! That's one of my favourite doctorates,' he told her and she raised a skeptical eyebrow. 'No. seriously. I'm just itching to open that box to see if the cat is still alive.'

Margaret laughed at the reference. 'Your favourite doctorate? You mean you have more than one?'

'What? Me? Wellll yeah. Lots of 'em. That's why I came here to investigate.'

'And you were unsuccessful,' she added.

'Oh I wouldn't say that. I mean, at first we thought it was something you were doing here that caused the effect,' he explained.

'Here? You thought it was us?'

'Why not? You and Arthur have both said it's classified. But then I worked out that the epicentre was in the grounds of the Abbey.'

'The Abbey? But what's at the Abbey that could cause everyone to fall into a coma?' Margaret asked.

'Well, nothing now,' John told her, pulling his earlobe. 'I think I might have scared it away, and that's when you all woke up.'

Margaret frowned. 'But how could you have been at the Abbey and still be awake? Did you find a way to protect yourself?'

'No. I sent in a robot and used that as my eyes and hands. One of our agents tried to go in and rescue a police officer who was in danger, but her sealed armour was useless.'

'Is she all right? Who was it?' Margaret asked with concern.

'Amy Williams. She's fine. I pulled her out with the robot.'

'Oh, "Legs". I like her. I love the banter she has with Craig,' she said with a coy smile.

'You watch the show?' John said with a grin.

'Of course. That's how I knew who you were. It's been a real thrill to meet you.'

'And it's been a pleasure to meet you Margaret,' he said finishing his tea. 'But duty calls, and I have to go and find Professor Crimm. I've got a few unanswered questions that I really need answered.'

'If it's about The Grange, he won't be able to answer them,' Margaret told him as he headed for the door.

'We'll see . . . We'll see,' John said as he walked away.

'Sergeant Decker wasn't it?' John said to the UNIT soldier.

'Yes Sir . . . And you are?' Decker enquired.

John took out his ID. 'Doctor John Smith. I came here with the professor. He asked for my help. Do you know where he is?'

'Ah. Thought I recognised you Sir. He's in the laboratory in the annex Sir.'

'Any chance you could take me there?,' John asked.

'Course Sir. This way.'

Decker led him through hallways which took them to the rear of the house and into a corridor which had obviously been added more recently. They came to a sturdy looking door with a security badge lock and intercom on the wall.

'The professor's in there Sir. You'll need to use the intercom to be let in,' Decker explained.

'Thank you Sergeant. I think I've got it from here,' John told him. 'Thank you for your help.' He touched a finger to his forehead in a form of salute. Decker nodded with a smile and departed.

John reached inside his jacket pocket and took out his sonic screwdriver. He zapped the badge lock and the door clicked open. He quietly slipped inside and gently closed the door behind him. The laboratory was an "L" shaped room, and he could hear Professor Crimm around the corner. There were workbenches along the walls which reminded him of his own workshop at Torchwood.

A number of triangular panels on a bench opposite caught his attention and he went over to have a look. They were arranged in a way which made it look as though they would fit together to form an icosahedron about 3 feet in across. There were other components that looked as though they would form one of those three dimensional puzzles. He wandered down the workshop and turned the corner.

'Ah. Here you are,' John said cheerfully, startling Crimm and making him straighten up and turn around.

He was standing in front of a icosahedral framework full of weird component, and partly covered with panels of the type John had seen on the benches.

'What the Devil? You gave me a fright then . . . How did you get in here?' Crimm said.

John pointed over his shoulder. 'Through the door of course. But a more important question is, what are you doing with that?'

Crimm tried to cover the object with a dust sheet. 'This is classified and none of your business,' he said irritably.

John took his smartphone out of his jacket pocket and found a speed dial. He smiled at Crimm while he waited for the call to connect.

'Oh, hello Harriet. It's John. Sorry to trouble you, but I've got a professor here who doesn't think I have security clearance to see his work,' John said.

'Harriet?' Crimm asked, but John wasn't listening.

'Would you. That would be a big help. Thank you,' John said and held the phone out for Crimm. 'It's the President. She'd like a word.'

'The President?' Crimm asked as he took the phone. John nodded. 'Hello? Professor Crimm.'

['Hello Professor. Harriet Jones, President,'] Harriet said.

'Er, yes Ma'am. I know who you are,' Crimm replied.

['Well, I'm glad you know who one of us is,'] she said sarcastically. ['Doctor Smith is the government's scientific advisor. His security clearance is so high that you would need to be in orbit to see it.']

Crimm looked at John in awe. 'I didn't realise Ma'am.'

['Obviously, or John wouldn't have had to disturb me in a cabinet meeting.']

'Sorry Ma'am.'

['Apology accepted. Now, whatever Doctor Smith wants to know, you will tell him. Is that understood?']

'Yes Ma'am. Of course Ma'am.'

['Then we shall say no more about it. Goodbye Professor.']

'Yes Ma'am. Goodbye Ma'am.' Harriet ended the call, and Crimm handed the phone back to John.

'She's annoyed with you,' John said with raised eyebrows and a lopsided smile.

'Yes. I kind of got that impression,' Crimm said with a worried expression. 'Sorry Doctor. I'd only seen you as the science consultant at Torchwood. I didn't know you were also advisor to the president.'

'Wellll, I don't like to brag,' he said nonchalantly. He put an arm around Arthur's shoulders and gave him a reassuring hug. 'Don't worry about Harriet. She'll have forgotten about it by tomorrow, and I'll put a good word in for you. I'm sure she won't take that OBE off you.'

Crimm cast him a worried glance, but John just smiled at him and winked. He then turned to the spherical object and frowned.

'Right. So. Down to business. Do you know what you've got here?' John asked, in the manner of a school master talking to a student.

'Well, that's what we've been trying to find out,' Crimm told him. 'For years I've been researching the idea of gravity waves. A few years ago, the teams at the LIGO Livingston and Hanford Observatories made the first direct observation of gravity waves. However, this device seems to be able to generate gravity waves.'

'You're right, it does,' John said. 'But please, don't power it up just yet.'

He ran around the corner and gathered armfulls of equipment before reassembling the device. 'Standing wave compensator,' he said as he clipped a part into place.

He picked up another piece and turned it around and around until he got it the right way up. 'Feedback loop inhibitor.' He plugged it back into place. 'There. At least it won't destroy the planet.'

'Destroy the planet? Good Lord! Is it a weapon of some kind?' Crimm asked.

'No. It's part of a communication device, normally used on a spaceship so it doesn't cause seismic waves. But like most technology, if you take the safeties off it can cause problems. The water heater in your home can explode if it develops a fault. Electrical appliances can catch fire . . .' John explained.

'I get the picture. But how do you know what this is?' Arthur asked.

'Because I've seen one before. It's a gravitron,' John told him. He scratched his head. 'Not sure which company manufactured it though.'

'What's a gravitron?'

John switched into lecture mode. 'It's similar to a magnetron. A magnetron generates microwaves, and a gravitron generates gravity waves.'

'Ah, yes. We suspected it generated gravity waves,' Arthur nodded. 'Seismographs around the world detected what we thought were minor tremors when we activated the device. A bit unusual to have so many occuring at the same time though.'

'Ah yes. Being minor tremors, they would have slipped under the radar,' John agreed. 'Except that we spotted it and put two and two together. I think you can guess how you would manipulate gravity to produce waves,' he prompted.

'Well. You would need a source of gravity which you could vibrate. But moving something the size of the Earth would be impossible with our present level of technology.'

'Quite right,' John agreed. 'Which is why this little beauty has a black hole inside it.'

'A . . . a black hole,' Arthur said in wonder. 'That explains the unbelievable density, denser than Osmium . . . This is just incredible.'

'Yeah. A tiny black hole. Several of tons of mass, and so small that the event horizon would be invisible to the naked eye.'

'Oh,' Arthur said, slightly embarrassed. 'So if we'd powered it up without the safety devices in place . . .'

'The black hole would have shot down to the centre of the Earth and slowly started to devour it,' John confirmed. 'But with the safeties on, the field coils vibrate it to generate a gravitic carrier wave'

'A gravitic carrier wave?'

'Yes. And if you generate a gravitic carrier wave, and put a message on that carrier, it would cross the galaxy in an instant, due to the fact that you are modulating the very fabric of space-time itself.'

The professor looked stunned. 'But . . . But that's impossible.'

'Well it is without a microphone,' John said with a grin. 'But the carrier wave is like a general invitation to have a conversation. CQDX the ham radio enthusiasts call it, or breaker 19 for a copy if you use citizen band.'

'Really?' Arthur said, looking slightly worried. 'And how do they respond?'

'Well that depends. I don't know for certain. I mean, it's just a theory, and I have no evidence . . . but someone may have responded to that invite by paying a visit and putting a village to sleep.'