Chapter 7

This time, Ghost awoke to the sound of birds singing and the fresh smell of new mown grass. He opened his eyes to the bright, hazy light of a summer morning and the feeling of cool, clean linen sheets on his skin. For a moment, he was disorientated, and then a chunk of memory hit him hard. He saw it all at once, images, sounds and smells exploding into his mind. He jerked upright.

"Oh fantastic!" The Doctor was sitting on a chair at the end of his bed, his legs crossed and resting on the blankets of Ghost's bed. Ghost nearly didn't recognise him. He was wearing a beige linen suit with a white shirt and the same bowtie as before, but half his face was covered with large sunglasses that would have made Jackie Onassis sick with envy. Perched on his head was a floppy canvas hat. "You're awake!" He leapt up and pulled the sunglasses from his face, his eyes bright and childlike with wonder. "Well done! You really impressed them!" He applauded. Ghost smiled at him, bewildered. "I know basic Dalek models aren't really up to much, but that was pretty bright of you going for its eyestalk! Shame about the immobiliser gas, but as first times go..." he scuttled round to crouch at the side of Ghost's bed and whispered conspiratorially "I think that was pretty good!" He winked.

Ghost groaned and flopped back onto the pillows. "Thanks." He said, weakly. For a brief moment, just before the memories slapped him in the face, he'd been at peace. Now he was back in 1995, a crazy thing that wore the shape of a man dancing around at the end of his bed, proclaiming that it was a beautiful day. He rubbed his eyes and pressed his fingertips into the edge of the orbits, using the pain to focus his bleary thoughts.

"Finally awake, I hear?" Ghost opened his eyes to see Captain Bambera striding through the door. She wearing what Ghost presumed was the dress uniform of UNIT: a beige suit with a black tie. A pin embellished with a winged globe was stuck through it. She looked pleased. "You did very well in there, for a first timer."

"Told you!" said the Doctor, reaching across Ghost to grab a bunch of grapes that had been left on the bedside cabinet. He plucked one from the stalk and threw it up in the air, catching it in his open mouth. He grinned maniacally at them.

"Lady Wainscott was very impressed with your knowledge of the armoury and Graham had a very favourable report on the simulations."

He realised she was talking about the pink lady. "She didn't look pleased." He said.

"That's why I never play poker with her." replied Bambera. "You did very well in the final simulation. Just the right level of caution balanced against the decision to take calculated risks. Lots of people make the mistake of trusting aliens, but you saw through that! Crichton would be happy to offer you a place here."

"Ta da!" the Doctor waved his hands, clearly enthused with this suggestion.

"What the hell was that thing?" said Ghost.

"A Dalek." Said the Captain and the Doctor at once. She gave him a withering look.

"Of course! You carry on!" He waved his hand at her and sat back down on the chair, pulling off grapes and eating them with every sign of enjoyment

"A Dalek." repeated the Captain. "A basic model. We call them Drone version 1. That's a remote controlled version we rigged from a captured specimen a few years ago. It's essentially a heavily armoured alien soldier with the alien concealed inside."

"Oh." said Ghost.

"There are quite a few versions, steadily getting more deadly as they've evolved, but you'll get a whole session on them from Arnold and Angelique later on, presuming of course that you've no objection to joining us?"

"None." said Ghost.

"Good." She smiled. "Well done for figuring out the eyestalk, and using the tarp. Very few people ever get that far. They might be slow, but even the basic models can be dangerous. You know some people find them funny?"

"Gave me the creeps." replied Ghost. Even thinking about it, gliding across the floor made him shudder.

"Yes, but not enough to stop you fighting it. That's important too. If you're too curious to sense danger, you're no use to us, but if you're too frightened by the unknown, you can't be relied on when aliens that no one has seen before with six heads and fifty sets of teeth come hunting for our flesh either."

Ghost thought back to the shooting range. "Some of those targets had..."

"Tentacle monsters? Oh, that's just Graham's little joke. At least, I hope it is. You never know in our line of work what's heading our way. I think that's part of the thrill." She smiled and then it changed to a frown. "As promised, The Brigadier had these knocked up for you. Your new identity."

She passed him a thick brown envelope. It had been sealed with the UNIT logo, and the words "Top Secret: UNIT command only" which had been slashed through.

"New passport, birth certificate, small starting grant and all the questionnaires you'll ever need for a lifetime. It's all pretty basic stuff really, just for our records."

Ghost slid the passport out into his hand: feeling the burgundy leatherette under his fingers. He traced the golden British crest and then flipped to the back page, reading the details of his new persona and his heart felt like it stopped dead in his chest.

He stared at it, slack-jawed and gawping. He read it again to make sure, and then again because it couldn't possibly be true.

Next to the stark photograph of his face was a name: John Arthur Price.

That's the end of my first ever piece of Dr Who fan fiction.

I'd be entirely grateful if you want to leave any feedback.

Thanks for reading.