D
Barnes walked into UNIT Defense Command, a moderately-sized room full of computer terminals and monitors manned by people in military uniform. On the far wall there was a large screen with several images, beamed down from UNIT satellites in orbit, scrolling across. Barnes strode to the middle of the room clasping his hands behind his back.
"What is it?" he demanded.
"Sir we've lost contact with Dover," one of the technicians said, working at his station. "There was static, a partial distress signal and then nothing."
"Have you tried the alternate channels?" asked Barnes.
"And their alternates," the technician confirmed, "there's nothing, sir."
"Dover is set in the cliffs and is completely invisible to all known forms of detection," Barnes said. "Perhaps their transponder is malfunctioning."
"I've got Dover on sat-vid," someone announced.
The image on the large screen switched showing the looming cliffs. Once a solid wall of brilliant white, the cliffs were marred with a massive crumbling divot of charred rock pouring thick black smoke. The room was silent, a few of the technicians rising from their seats in shock. Dover was not just out of contact. It was completely destroyed. There were audible gasps as a massive portion of the cliff face broke off and fell into the sea.
"Right," Barnes said taking a deep breath. "Eyes on everyone, there's an obvious threat that needs dealt with. We need air defenses scrambled immediately."
"The 14th Squadron is on patrol," someone reported.
"Divert them with orders to prepare for conflict," Barnes said. "They will need a target."
"Working sir," said the first technician, a young man with a round face and caramel skin. "Using other satellites to try and pinpoint the attack on Dover. There! I have an unidentified craft coming in from the channel, sir."
"Well done Mr. Pink," Barnes said.
"Samuels, sending it to you," Pink said.
"Got it Rupert," said a tech on the other side of the room. "Running its description through channels and… there! It's approaching London; scanning it now."
"What is it?" Barnes asked.
"Unsure sir," Samuels replied. "Its energy signature is not something we've ever seen."
"Sir, the 14th has made contact," exclaimed someone else.
"Have them engage and destroy," said Barnes sternly.
The Time Lord Merciless
The lead plane of the six-fighter group swooped in behind the strange flying craft. The pilot raised his tinted visor and frowned at his target.
"Command this is 14-1, I have the enemy craft in my sights."
"14-1 from Command, what is it?"
"Command it's oblong with tapered ends, silver. It looks like a rugby ball. It's even spinning. Do we have intel?"
"Negative 14-1, nothing other than it is responsible for the loss of Dover. Your orders are to engage and destroy."
"Copy Command, closing in now. I've got target lock."
"14-1 BREAK LEFT NOW!"
The craft banked to the right as 14-1 exploded, another "silver rugby ball" flying through its flaming debris before disappearing.
Back inside the command center, the technicians and Barnes could only listen…
"14-2, did you see that?"
"14-4 he's on you! He's on you!"
"14-6 I've got his belly, coming up!"
"14-6 break away he's got yours!"
"14-6 is down! 14-6 is down! 14-5 on my wing!"
"14-5 he's on me! I can't shake him!"
"14-5 say again I've got visual your six is clear!"
"He's coming right at me!"
"Everywhere! Command they're everywhere!"
"14-3 is going high. I've got four, no six, no eight bogeys. They're just appearing out of nowhere. Now there's four again! Now there's a dozen! How is this possible? God, almost everyone is down! It's just me and 14-2! 14-2; break off and loop up to me."
"14-2 copy! Where are they?"
"14-3, I've got negative visual contact. They're gone again. Command, command do you see them?"
Barnes leaned over Pink's shoulder and looked at his screen. "Talk to me Pink."
Pink shook his head. "The screen was full a moment ago and now it's just our people. It's like they've all gone. There was one craft and then a squadron and now the pattern is clear."
Barnes straightened, turning away. "Have what's left of the 14th regroup and stand ready."
"There're only two of them left, sir!" Pink said, baffled.
"I'll not leave our air space undefended," barked Barnes. "Scramble the 75th. The 14th can stand down once they are properly relieved."
"Rupert, you need to see this!"
One of Pink's screens scrolled full of information. "Are you certain?"
"I checked it twice."
Pink raised his hand. "Sir, scans indicate that the enemy force that took out the 14th was one ship."
Barnes frowned. "You're going to have to clarify that, Pink. 14-3 counted a dozen at most."
"The scanners are showing that all of the enemy craft have the exact same energy signature sir," said Pink, "not similar, the same. It's as if the ship was in multiple places at once."
"Square it away, Pink, what you are suggesting is impossible," Barnes said.
"Sir, we're getting word that the 75th is down."
"What?"
"Their base was hit five minutes ago. They were on the ground. They never stood a chance."
"Get me sat-vid!" Pink exclaimed. "Samuels!"
"On it!"
The large screen changed to the smoking hole that used to be an air base. The image suddenly shifted replaced by a recording of the base being destroyed. The attacking craft was unmistakable. Pink pointed at the screen.
"Sir, that's."
"If you're going to tell me that that's the same craft killing our people at the same time it was supposed to be…killing our people…" Barnes took a moment and collected himself. "Come up with something that makes sense."
"Command from 14-2, maybe he went to ground."
Barnes mulled it over. "Mobilize the armor."
"14-3, I've got him. He just went by Big Ben, moving to intercept!"
"3 from 2 I'm with you. Let's get this bugger!"
"Armored forces are mobilizing sir," someone reported
"Notify me when they are in position," Barnes said.
"14-3, I'm on him. I'm on him. 2 stay with me and be ready in case he breaks."
"Copy, I got 'im!"
"14-3, I've got target lock. What the hell? He's gone. He just disappeared! 14-2 do you have visual? 14-2? 14…"
Barnes snapped his head toward Pink.
Pink stared at his screen, aghast. "They're gone sir. They're all down."
"What's the status of the armor?" Barnes asked.
The technician turned; his hand on a set of headphones. "They've been destroyed, sir. They never made it out of the base. The fight was over in less than a minute."
"Mister Pink, put us on high alert," Barnes said. "Mobilize whatever we've got left to our position and alert our forces in Scotland and France."
"Sir…"
"My God…"
On the screen was the UNIT base in Scotland. It was completely ablaze. The screen switched to France where there was just a massive charred hole in the ground.
"Sir I've got the Americans, they want to know what's happening."
"Advise them of the situation and request whatever aid they can send," said Barnes.
The room shook.
"Command, we have a perimeter breach! Contact on level one!"
"Command, contact on level four!"
"Level six as well, sir!"
"He's in the armory!"
Barnes slammed his fist down on the console next to Pink. "What are we up against? Anyone report, now!"
"Intruder is a single man, tall, dark, red coat with a hood, wearing some kind of black body armor! He's got an energy weapon! A baton or something! Has to be alien technology! He's killing us, sir! We need help!"
"What level is he on?" asked Barnes.
Pink stood slowly pointing at the screen. "He's on all of them, sir."
The Time Lord Merciless
Marching through the corridors of the UNIT base, the Executor shot down every soldier he came across using his maverick, a best-described weaponized sonic screwdriver. Three feet long the width of a common flashlight, his weapon was a dull and weathered gray, anodized rings and a glossed black emitter adorning the business end.
Carrying it like a rifle; a portion of the "lower" half of the tool folded down to form a pistol's grip, he dealt the finality of oblivion to all in his path. Though his expression was one of calm, inside he burned white-hot with rage. The animals, the primitive animals, they would pay.
Calling upon the powers of a Lord of Time he extended his vision beyond the moment to the turn of the universe. He saw every possibility every action and reaction of his enemies. It allowed him to move through their ranks with ease, dodging their pointless attacks and rendering them utterly. Unknowing of the futility of their plight, they screamed and railed in the hope that they could somehow stop their reckoning but it was no use. Their destruction was fixed, set in time and hammered in place by his maverick.
His coat flaring out, whipped up by the maelstrom of fiery destruction in his wake, he turned a corner. Before him the pitiful apes fled in terror, firing their worthless projectile weapons in every direction accept his. He'd slaughtered their best without as much as a scratch. These were their reserves…pathetic.
One of the soldiers charging in desperation, the Executor twirled his maverick, the weapon morphing into a solid rod of metal. Stepping to the side he brought it across the human's chest, vaulting him end over end. The Time Lord weapon a blur in his hands, he brought it down on the soldier's chest as he struck the ground. Crouching, the Executor fired through the human and the floor beneath him.
At the end of the corridor, the soldier's comrades opened fire. The Executor stepped between the errant shots, the whizzing bullets appearing to move as slowly as bees trapped in amber. His maverick morphing back into a firearm, he unleashed a blast of black energy, exploding one of the walls, scattering dust, rock and men in all directions. His maverick spun, whistling through the air. The Executor opened fire. Stone exploded. Dust and debris flew. Men fell, slain by the Time Lord Merciless.
The Time Lord Merciless
"Orders, sir?" asked Pink.
Swallowing, watching the malevolent force of nature slaughter his men, Barnes felt his resolve weaken. He searched all the screens seeing the multiple images. Were they twins? Were they disguised; some kind of alien trick? Something had to explain what he was seeing. How many troops did he have left? Was there anyone left?
"Sir!"
Barnes turned finding the others staring at him. He straightened taking a breath. "Evacuate the civilians. I want all remaining military personnel to arm themselves and prepare for battle." There was an audible gasp in the room.
"Sir, arm ourselves with what?" Pink asked, pointing at a static-laden screen. "He destroyed the armory."
Barnes drew his sidearm, a small-caliber pistol, and handed it to Pink. "There, you're armed. Go and slow him down. The rest of you can arm yourselves with the weapons of the fallen."
The Time Lord Merciless
Inside his cell, John listened to the chaos, the screaming; the explosions, the death. Tears struck the floor between his knees, tears for Jenny. He knew he should mourn the UNIT soldiers. Some of them were friends once…once. Somehow he just could not do it.
An explosion sounded just outside. His door shook and then fell away revealing the Executor on the other side. He crossed the threshold and knelt next to him. John could not bring himself to meet his gaze.
"I'm sorry," he managed.
The Executor placed a gloved hand on his shoulder. Soaked in blood it stained John's shirt. "It wasn't your fault." Reaching into his coat he drew a sonic screwdriver given to him by the Doctor. Silver with a black tip and glowing red bulb, it had been carried by the Doctor during the Time War. Extending the tip, the Executor released John's chains and helped him to his feet.
"Rose. The children," John said.
"Safe," the Executor assured. "I materialized the TARDIS around the house, singling out their genetic signatures. The men guarding them are gone."
"Thank you," said John.
The Executor nodded. "The way is clear." He turned for the door.
"Wait!" John said.
The Executor paused looking over his shoulder. "Is this where you tell me I should stop?"
John thought about it. "The Doctor would tell you to stop. He'd tell you to think about what you are doing."
The Executor mulled it for a moment before meeting John's gaze. "And what does John Smith have to say about it?"
Try as he might, John could not bring himself to speak.
The Executor stepped through the door. "Go home to your family, John."
The Time Lord Merciless
Barnes rushed into his office. He picked up an assault rifle from a rack underneath his desk. Checking the magazine, he loaded a round into the chamber. His head snapped up on hearing three quiet electronic chirps.
He was there, standing in the corner of his office. Dark and brooding, his coat hanging mostly closed, his hood low casting most of his face in shadow. Dreadlocked hair draped down to his chest. His mouth grimly set, in the shadow of the hood, his eyes seemed to glitter unnaturally.
"I would ask if you understand now, but I know that you don't," the Executor said. "I've seen this three times already." He moved.
Barnes brought up his weapon and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.
"You're going to do that five more times before you realize I disabled your weapon," the Executor said crossing the room. He heard five more useless clicks. "Then you'll remember that you gave your pistol to a Sergeant Rupert Pink. Good man. He tossed your orders aside and covered the evacuation of the civilians instead of throwing his life away fighting me."
The room shook as the Executor rounded the desk.
"Do you think I fear you?" Barnes asked.
The Executor shook his head. "You don't. But then I never thought you were smart either." He drew back his hood revealing his face. Stricken, it was streaked with tears. "The night we met, she saved your life and the lives of your men. You exist now because of her."
"She was a threat to the human race," Barnes said firmly.
"I am a threat to the human race!" the Executor bellowed. "She was a beacon of light! She was hope! Were she here now, even now, she would beg me not to finish what I started and you murdered her!"
"Murder is for humans," said Barnes. "She was not human."
"You dissected her like some sort of animal," the Executor seethed.
"And we'll do the same to you," Barnes said. "Your technology is formidable but UNIT is worldwide and all-encompassing."
The Executor laughed. "You still don't get it. I am a Lord…of…Time; capable of everything the title suggests. Two weeks ago you began to suspect that John Smith was more than he seemed. One week ago you drafted a secret memo for his home and his family to be placed under surveillance."
"Parlor tricks."
"The memo was handwritten, delivered directly to your Chief of Security and then destroyed by fire with his personal lighter given to him after his deployment to the Middle East by his now-deceased commanding officer." He tossed the lighter onto Barnes' desk. "As for UNIT, three weeks from now, all of UNIT everywhere will have been destroyed."
"Two weeks from now," said a voice at the door, "The American UNIT forces will be obliterated attempting to cross the Atlantic."
Barnes watched dumbstruck as another Executor entered. Similarly dressed, his hood was already back. Soot was on his face and in his beard. He was sweating. Barnes took a step back. "What is this?"
The new Executor took up a spot at Barnes' left. "They put up a decent fight, about fifteen minutes or so."
A third Executor entered the office and stood at Barnes' right. "One week from now all of the European compliments of UNIT will be pacified. Germany will give up without as much as a word. I was disappointed."
The room shook and dust fell from the ceiling. Barnes stared at the three men and knew. They were three different versions of the same man separated by time but brought together for this moment. The ships that had destroyed his forces and the men annihilating his soldiers were one and the same.
"Today marks the beginning of the end."
Barnes turned as a fourth Executor appeared. Dust and rubble covered his shoulders. Like the others, he wore a red coat. Like the others, black armor protected his shoulders and chest. Like the others his face was grim and determined but the rage in his eyes had not cooled. Barnes' face turned gray, the futility of it all threatening to crush him.
"You'll need this," said the Executor from three weeks hence. From his coat he drew a gilded saber with an ivory grip and silver hilt.
Barnes watched in awe as the others did the same. He turned to his wall where his service trophy hung still in its case. The Executor from his time walked over and shattered the glass with a fist before yanking the sword free. The four of them brandished the weapon so he could see it. It was his sword.
"Am I to beg?" he asked shakily.
"You never do," said the eldest Executor.
"Why bother?" said another.
"It wouldn't make a difference anyway, said the next.
The youngest plunged his sword into Barnes' back. The other three followed suit from where they stood. They held him there for a moment before withdrawing their weapons. Barnes dropped to the floor, his uniform turning red. Lying beneath his desk he saw the boots of the men as they left his office. Then he saw nothing.