Noise...

What is noise when you can travel faster than the very speed of sound?

Hulderheim, Norway
1st of January, 2000

Engines roared as the T4-Ruse cut through the sky, its sleek frame slicing through the crisp Norwegian air. The pilot, a young woman with a deep love for the skies, felt the familiar thrill of flight coursing through her veins. Named Ingrid Linde, she had been flying since she'd been old enough to dream of soaring above the clouds. Though, and despite her clear military connections, Ingrid never flew to fight or for any armed manoeuvrer; merely there to test the capabilities of new fighter jets - today being no different as she found herself in the cockpit of the latest T4, a new fighter designed for speed and agility.

The freedom of the open sky... the Lieutenant thought as her eyes scanned the vast expanse of blue before her, the ground naught more than that of a distant memory far beneath her. She loved this, lived for it - the solitude, the power, the sheer exhilaration of pushing a machine to its limits. There was no battlefield here, no enemy to engage; just her, alone, with the endless horizon before her and the hum of the Ruse's engines as it cut across the heavens.

Yet-

"Tango-4, this is Control. Do you copy?"

Ingrid's headset suddenly crackled, cutting through the serene silence of her flight like a knife, and she sighed, momentarily breaking her reverie.

"Control, this is Tango-4. I copy," she replied, her tone tinged with mild annoyance. As much as she was used to the routine check-ins, Ingrid had always preferred to be left alone during her test flights. It was her time to escape, to leave behind the pressures and responsibilities of her life on the ground.

"Lieutenant, we have a situation," came the voice of her superior, Captain Simon Jorgensen. His voice was uncharacteristically grave, and Ingrid immediately felt a knot tighten in her stomach.

"This isn't the best time, Captain," she said, trying to keep her voice light. "I'm in the middle of a test run. Everything's looking good, by the way. This Ruse is performing beautifully."

"I understand, Lieutenant, but this is urgent," Simon insisted. "It-it's about your parents."

Ingrid felt her heart skip a beat. She had always managed to keep her personal and professional lives separate, but the mention of her parents pierced through her composure. Marcus and Anna Linde, both busy officials, worked as senior marketing executives for a multinational corporation; frequently travelling the world for meetings and conferences. And whilst their work had been demanding, Ingrid had never thought it to be dangerous; the dealings with promotional strategies, branding campaigns, and corporate negotiations naught more than completely mundane and safe in her eyes.

But now...

"What about my parents, Captain?" she questioned, her voice laced with a growing dread.

There was a brief silence on the other end, a hesitation that had her blood running cold, before: "There was an incident," Simon finally revealed. "Your parents... Ingrid... they were involved in something classified. I'm sorry, but as of zero-eight, twenty-one this morning, they've been logged as missing, presumed dead."

Ingrid's mind stalled.

Classified?

Missing, presumed dead?

The words made no sense to the Lieutenant.

Her parents... they were nothing more than marketing executives, not soldiers or spies.

Weren't they...?

Sure, they may have always been busy with their corporate duties, jet-setting around the globe and attending high-profile meetings. But the idea of them being involved in anything dangerous had never crossed her mind, and classified was a word the Lieutenant knew to be associated with military and espionage; something completely out of place when thinking of her parents, whose biggest risk, Ingrid had assumed, had been nothing more than missed flights or lost luggage - nothing even close to secret or life-threatening.

"What do you mean, 'classified'?" she demanded, her voice tinged with her growing confusion and fear. "They work in marketing, Cap. How the hell could they be involved in something that's 'classified'?"

"I don't even have all the details yet, Lieutenant," Simon revealed, his voice coming through softer now; almost apologetic. "What's come through, it's all highly classified, and we're trying to piece together what we can. All we know is, whatever they'd been working on... it was way beyond marketing, beyond even UNIT."

The words struck Ingrid like a physical blow.

Beyond even UNIT.

That phrase alone was chilling, suggesting an involvement with organisations and situations far outside the realm of normal civilian life, and the T4-Ruse's controls suddenly felt heavy in her hands, its once-familiar cockpit now an alien and confining space.

Ingrid's mind churned with a storm of emotions, and her grip on the controls tightened until her knuckles had turned white under her gloves. Disbelief and fear fought for dominance with her deepening dread; the horrifying realisation dawning that her parents' lives had been far more complicated - far more dangerous - than she had ever imagined hitting her with an almost paralysing force.

Her parents, Marcus and Anna Linde - the very people her memories had merged with desks and boardrooms; who had always seemed so safe within their world of business meetings and marketing strategies, being entangled in something far more dangerous and secretive that even UNIT had been kept out of the loop - it was beyond comprehension, and the Lieutenant struggled to grasp the situation.

"UNIT?" she suddenly snapped. "What the fuck does UNIT have to do with my parents, Simon?"

"Ingrid..." the Captain paused, his silence heavy with unspoken tension. Though, and before he could continue, a new voice suddenly cut in, one that was unfamiliar, American, and authoritative.

"Lieutenant Ingrid Linde, this is Captain Jack Harkness. Your orders have changed, your flight pulled. You are to return to base immediately."

Ingrid blinked.

The name was as unfamiliar as the accent, yet the tone demanded her respect.

"Who are you?" she demanded, her confusion and frustration bubbling over and causing all thoughts of giving that respect to be damned. "And where the hell is my Captain?"

"That's classified, Lieutenant," came Captain Harkness' smooth reply, the man seemingly unfazed by her tone. "And trust me when I say, it's for your own good that you return to base immediately."

"'Classified'? Everything seemed to be fucking classified right now!" Ingrid snapped right back. "What the hell is going on?!"

"Your parents were involved in something far larger than just 'marketing', Lieutenant. I can't discuss the details over an unsecure channel, but you need to trust me. Return to base. We'll have more information once you're back on the ground."

Green eyes narrowed.

"Ingrid, you need to listen to the Captain," Simon's voice interjected, sounding surprisingly resigned. "We're still piecing this together, but from what I'm holding - what I'm reading right now... it's best if you follow orders."

Ingrid exhaled sharply, her mind still reeling. She didn't trust easily, something Simon knew, and being left in the dark about her own parents' fate was driving her to the brink.

"Copy that," she finally said through gritted teeth, her mind was a whirl of questions. "Tango-4 returning to base."

"Safe flight, Lieutenant."

And as she banked the T4-Ruse around, heading back towards the base, Ingrid's mind continued to race with questions and fears. The sky, once her sanctuary, now felt oppressive, the weight of the unknown pressing down on her.

Noise... she thought again, the word echoing in her mind like a mocking symphony. The engines continued roared beneath her, but this time, there was no joy in the flight - only a cold, gnawing fear of what awaited her on the ground.