Time to face the Music
'
Keeping track of time proved almost impossible in the windowless room, yet Mike did not bother checking his watch. Nevertheless, his dispassionate mind could not help but wonder how General Finch and Operation Golden Age were faring now that the combined forces of the Doctor and UNIT were unleashed upon them unhindered. While he supported the general's plans from an idealistic point of view, he never shared the man's blatant disregard for peoples' lives and had repeatedly argued against the group's cavalier attitude towards collateral damage. Even if in light of near-complete extinction, the premature loss of individual lives seemed inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, it was still a line Yates was adamant about not crossing. He had sworn to be a protector not a perpetrator.
One way or another, Operation Golden Age was coming to a head. Soon the scales would be tipped in either direction. The Doctor and his friends on one side and the group behind General Finch on the other. Although Yates stood by his decision, he was secretly torn between worrying for his friends and his unquestioning loyalty to the cause. In theory, the plan to roll back time had sounded much more harmless than its execution had ever been.
Mike was not worried for himself, however. In spite of his previous assessment when he had forcibly tried to make the Doctor and his companions stand down, he was reasonably certain this facility was outside the survival zone by a narrow margin. Therefore, if their project was a success, he would simply cease to exist along with everybody else. He was okay with that outcome.
An indeterminable measure of time later, his musings were interrupted by the scraping of a key in the lock. The sudden presence of John Benton in the cell slowly pulled him from his reverie and alerted him to the irrefutable fact that their plans for a better world were well and truly over, Operation Golden Age had failed.
With the latest crisis averted and life on Earth no longer hanging in the balance, most of the tight-coiled tension melted out of Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart's shoulders as things gradually went back to normal. The evacuation of the city was lifted and people began moving back to their homes. Where moments before, Dinosaurs of all things had run unchecked, the mood in the streets was generally relaxed if not cheerful. Indeed, it was wondrous to see how the citizens of London on a regular basis seemed largely unfazed by the weirdest occurrences and simply carried on with their lives.
The UNIT team, along with the Doctor, had returned to their current base of operations. Their initial, adrenalin-fuelled euphoria at successfully derailing this newest, man-made threat to society faded inevitably with the prospect of the stern task of cleaning house. Justice needed meting out.
Apart from being inconvenienced by the extra paper-work, in the case of General Finch, the brigadier did not even bat an eye at having to submit the necessary formalities to initiate a court-martial. Although his feelings hardly mattered, he had never liked the man, finding him an arrogant and petty fellow every time their paths had unfortunately crossed.
While there was no love lost between him and General Finch, Captain Yates was a different matter altogether. His second-in-command had been one of his most trusted men, someone Lethbridge-Stewart had relied on without reservations and liked well despite the man's habitual involvement in the Doctor's most outlandish shenanigans. For this reason, the unforeseen betrayal had stung most fiercely.
Still, as much as he wished, on a personal level, for a way to resolve the matter in kind, the brigadier was keenly aware that the implicit trust required in their line of work had shattered beyond repair. In order to re-establish discipline amongst his men, the unfortunate affair called for a decisive hand. Stiff upper lip firmly in place and studiously ignoring the churning in the pit of his stomach, Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart called for Sergeant Benton to escort their errant captain to his temporary office.
Even though John Benton was hard-pressed to acknowledge feeling anything but anger and disappointment towards Mike Yates at the moment, for the sake of their long years of service together and good camaraderie, he had been relieved to learn that the captain would be spared the disgrace of a court-martial. It was, however, neither his place to share that information, nor did he feel sorry for letting the man stew in uncertainty just a little bit longer.
When he came up to the makeshift brig, he nodded to the soldier on guard duty, who quickly produced and handed over the keys after crisply reporting that nothing noteworthy had happened. Mentally steeling himself for the encounter while the door was unlocked, Benton entered the room with well-hidden trepidation.
Upon his arrival, Yates' mind seemed to be a million miles away before slowly coming back to the present, unseeing eyes gradually beginning to focus on his surroundings. The despondent captain made for a pitiful sight, a man standing before the ruins of his entire life but Benton rather doubted Mike Yates was yet able to fully grasp the extent of the consequences of his actions.
"The Brigadier will see you now," the stone-faced sergeant announced, pulling the key to the handcuffs from his pocket, then hesitated. Carefully evaluating their prisoner, he continued after a moment of obvious indecision, "Do I need the weapon?" Benton's face had lost some of its earlier edge though his voice remained emotionless.
"No," came the immediate, honest answer. Mike appreciated the unexpected gesture of kindness.
"Well then," the tall sergeant prompted, letting the cuff fall away from the captain's wrist, "right yourself, Sir."
Under Benton's watchful eyes, Yates mindfully put on his discarded pieces of clothing, all the while telegraphing his complacency in order to put his friend at ease. Once his uniform looked presentable again, Mike nodded his thanks and told the other man that he was ready. Although he felt anything but, he was determined to preserve the last vestiges of his dignity, few as they were.
Sergeant Benton motioned for Yates to lead the way. And passing through the door, the corporal on guard silently fell into step behind them. Understandably they were not taking any chances on him.
It took the small procession less than two minutes to reach the closed door of Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart's current office. Unwilling to show any sign of weakness, Mike knocked without hesitation.
Despite outwardly projecting an image of unflappable calmness and collection, Benton knew Mike well enough to recognize the underlying apprehension in the set of his shoulders. For all intents and purposes, he looked like a lamb aware of being led to the slaughter.
"Come in!" The brigadier's unmistakeable voice bellowed a moment later.
Both Captain Yates and Sergeant Benton entered the tension-filled office and stood at attention, while Corporal Matthews, not yet dismissed, took a post outside the door.
The brigadier rose from his chair. "Thank you, Sergeant," he said not unkindly. "Please wait outside."
While Benton retreated from the room to join the other soldier outside, quietly closing the door behind him, Lethbridge-Stewart fixed Mike Yates with a hard stare. Undivided attention on his wayward captain, the weathered officer took his time rounding the desk with purposeful, even strides. On the one hand, he wanted to see the younger man squirm under the unforgiving scrutiny of his reproachful glare, letting the full weight of his displeasure sink in. To Yates' credit, he bore the deliberate inquisition unflinchingly, a trait the commanding officer had always commended the man for. On the other hand, he felt a deep sense of regret at losing one of his most competent and trusted officers.
"I reckon you have probably gathered by now that your ambitious operation to erase most of humankind has successfully been averted," he addressed his disgraced subordinate. "Captain Yates, I am gravely disappointed in you for advocating and supporting such a despicable undertaking, a plan that goes against the very principle of UNIT. I did not expect this kind of disloyalty from you."
After a pregnant pause he continued severely, "I demand an explanation for your disgraceful behaviour. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
Uncomfortable silence stretched for long seconds.
"I see." Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart's disapproving tone of voice did nothing to mask his profound disappointment. He studied the younger officer inquisitively. Yates stared straight ahead with empty eyes lacking any of their usual liveliness.
"I think you do not comprehend the scope of your actions, Captain. Conspiring and actively working against your superior officer, your team and feeding confidential information to the enemy, that constitutes an act of treason. This conduct unbecoming an officer to the detriment of the public you have sworn an oath to protect, deserves no leniency. By rights you should be court-martialled alongside General Finch." The brigadier had never been one to mince words.
Still, Yates failed to show any reaction at all. Was his second-in-command so far gone that not even this harsh truth managed to get a rise out of him? In a rare show of compassion he implored with a milder cadence, "Mike, talk to me."
"For what it's worth, I am sorry," the meek reply was almost inflectionless and ultimately dissatisfactory. The brigadier examined his troubled captain's nearly blank expression intensely to judge the sincerity of his words.
When nothing else was forthcoming, he adopted an authoritative stance befitting the grave situation. "Very well. Effective immediately, you are hereby relieved of your duties and dismissed from active service in Her Majesty's army. Taking into account your impeccable service record so far and your recent mental struggles, I am inclined to believe your intentions were not, in fact, malicious in nature. You will officially be put on an extended period of medical leave. However, I expect your letter of resignation on my desk within a fortnight. Am I understood?"
"Yes, Sir." A flash of devastation crossed the captain's face but he reined it in quickly. It was the first genuine reaction Lethbridge-Stewart had observed from him the whole day. Surely he had not deluded himself with a different outcome?
"Corporal Matthews will escort you off the premises. Your personal effects from HQ will be sent to you. Dismissed!" The finality of the word echoed in the desolate silence of the provisional office.
Yates looked even more dejected than before as he moved to turn on his heel. The man's obvious lack of appropriate response further fuelled the brigadier's uneasiness, which had settled in his stomach. This was it; this was his last chance to impart some form of insight before not only an exemplary officer but a good man was lost to him forever. Consciously moderating his expression to show his legitimate concern, he caught his subordinate's eye.
"A word of advice, even if it is unwelcome at the moment. Mike, we all care about you. We can see you are not yourself right now. I strongly suggest you get some professional help. You will be going nowhere if you don't get your act together."
For a precious moment the other man held his gaze, then nodded mutely. The brigadier could not suppress a sigh of resignation. He feared his well-meant recommendation had fallen on deaf ears.