CHAPTER 12
The double doors divided smoothly as Martha and Madison entered a white fluorescent room uniformed in white panelling on its floor, ceiling, and walls.
None of their footsteps echoed off its sleek floor, which was surrounded by walled racks of guns, protective equipment, and various gadgets hanging on black metallic grid shelving.
Lab coat-dressed technicians stood at the benches, examining and assembling various devices under bright task lights.
The technician's movements were precise and deliberate as the emerald laser traced intricate patterns over the circuit board.
The device emitted a faint hum, and the technician's eyes remained fixed on the data streaming across a nearby monitor.
As the laser swept across the circuit board, several small chips ejected smoothly from their housings.
They hovered briefly before falling gently into a collection tray, their surfaces glinting under the fluorescent lights.
The lab technician carefully shifted the laser, ensuring each chip was delicately placed onto a sponge-like material.
Cushioning each chip was a sponge, keeping them safe from potential damage and ensuring they were ready for further examination or processing.
Madison's right hand gesticulated at their surroundings, "This is the lab. You will find toys in here that defy the imagination."
Martha cocked her eyebrow, pressing her right hand onto her hip as she observed her surroundings. "I like toys."
Madison fluttered her eyebrows, "I will blow your mind, Doctor Jones. Keep in mind that most of these are prototypes." Madison responded.
Martha strolled along the shelving, tracing her fingertips along a curved silver rifle with a sleek, rounded barrel and embedded green diodes. Beneath her touch, it felt cool and smooth as she examined its features, "I could see myself having fun with this." She guided her hand along its side vent features where a low humming emitted. "I think I angered it."
Madison approached the shelving, cocking her head as her lips opened into an o-shape. "That gun is hand-motion activated. Fear not, it's unloaded. In fact, it barely gets used. Its ammo source is some obscure off-planet plasma."
"You're taking the enjoyment out of everything today, Madison," Martha remarked, sliding her hands into the rear pockets of her chino trousers.
"I could take you for a spin in one of the latest combat vehicles," Madison offered.
"I doubt we'll pass the breath test," Martha laughed.
"There they are," Kate said with the Doctor walking alongside her. "You both look refreshed."
Madison smiled, "We had a pleasant afternoon of coffee, chat, touring."
"There might have also been an espresso cocktail in it too," Martha added.
"You've upped the hospitality," the Doctor noted.
"More like millennials demanding a lounge to suit their job," Kate answered.
"Bah, kids!" The Doctor dismissed.
Martha lampooned, "Doctor, we're no more than seven or eight years apart."
"Actually, he's nine hundred years old," Kate corrected.
Madison's scintillating stare sought out any hint of disappointment in Martha's eyes as she commented with mild provocation, "That's quite a gap."
Martha's stomach clenched as though a chain of ice had coiled around her heart in response to Madison's probing gaze.
Martha stood beside the Doctor, crossing her arms over her chest with eyes locked onto Madison.
"Time for the briefing, team. This way," Kate instructed.
Martha walked alongside the Doctor, following Kate. She whispered, "You're twenty-nine at heart."
"I could have sworn you were at least eight hundred," he clarified.
Martha licked her bottom lip, "Let's not allow numbers to eclipse the chemistry."
"Hm?" The Doctor asked as everyone followed her into a room leading off the lab.
The room they entered was coloured identically, minus the shelving.
Martha whispered, "Talk later."
Kate tapped her right index finger against the surface of a wall-mounted screen. "Thanks to Miss Lu, we have learned that Professor Hirst is hosting a river cruise event on the Thames this evening."
Madison joined Kate on the screen, "Hirst's inner circle will be there, including investors, stakeholders, board members, and politicians on her payroll. We can potentially lift Hirst's veil on the happenings in her organisation."
Kate acknowledged Doyle as he entered the room, "Commander Doyle and Ms. Lu will be your in-field contacts." Kate collected a white bead from the table, "Regular updates will be provided through these."
Madison held up a silver pin, "Attach these to the collar areas of your clothes. These are your microphones. Twist the head right and speak while twisting it left will mute the microphone."
Doyle spoke, "We're gathering information. Madison already has an insider who provided the invitations. Doctor and Martha, you have also been issued invitations as research specialists."
The Doctor asked Kate, "What are UNIT looking for precisely?"
Kate looked pointedly at the Doctor, "Evidence indicating conflict of interest. There's a rumour of a well-known politician eyeing a position on the board. Her legal team will no doubt be present. Any information we can obtain would be useful. Despite our presence, this is a discrete operation. Hirst is not to be confronted. Understood?"
Everyone nodded in acknowledgment.
LATER
The Doctor studied his reflection in the opaque glass of the UNIT foyer, meticulously adjusting his black bowtie over his crisp white formal shirt.
UNIT had provided him with a fitted black tuxedo as part of his cover.
"You polish up well when you lose the sneakers," Martha remarked as she approached, nodding to his black leather lace-up shoes.
Martha's straightened and untied shoulder-length hair framed her face as she wore a port-coloured sleeveless chiffon dress that stopped at her kneecaps.
The dress was cinched at her midriff with a dark plum leather belt.
On her shoulder, a colour-coordinated dark purple handbag with side frills complemented her outfit. "Ditto on the heels," he responded, appraising Martha's purple Mary Jane stilettos. "Are you sure about suede?"
"It's not raining," she countered.
"But we will be on a boat," the Doctor reminded.
"If we go overboard, I'm pushing you in first," she stood alongside him, "Your hair is rocking."
The Doctor admired his product-slicked dark hair.
His sides were brushed neatly, with a spiked fringe and a slickly dishevelled scalp.
"Hairdresser's choice. Apparently, the 'stepping on live electrical wire look' will be popular in 2011."
"It's spunky," Martha clarified.
"Spunky? Sounds like a good name for a kitchen sponge manufactured from hedgehog needles," he questioned as they boarded the elevator.
Martha linked her arm through the Doctor's as they stood side-by-side, "Let's talk 2011: normal, handsome with modest success in their career was definitely a good thing for a guy in 2010. If that's still fashion in 2011, you'll fit the bill effortlessly."
The doors closed, "I could be in the 1940s next week."
"All on your own?"
"I hadn't given that any thought."
Martha reminded, "Well, you are hiring, and I'm still available." Martha furrowed her brows disapprovingly at the Doctor's ensuing silence.
The elevator doors opened and revealed a steely grey car park where two black Range Rovers were parked.
Madison stood nearby, wearing a black suede halter neck dress that stopped above her kneecaps, paired with knee-high black leather block heel boots featuring inner leg zips.
Her slightly wavy shoulder-length brunette hair was untied. She stepped toward them, "007 and Bond girl have arrived." The distinct click of Madison's heels against the sleek floor echoed authority, a sound that commanded attention.
"Good evening, Moneypenny," the Doctor jested in his best possible Sean Connery impersonation.
"Hello, gorgeous," Madison replied, glancing at their linked arms, "007."
Martha laughed, "He is definitely my Bond girl tonight," she eyed Madison in her outfit, notably her footwear. "I Love your boots."
"Stunning dress," Madison replied.
"Ian Fleming would be rolling in his grave right now," the Doctor sighed.
Martha scoffed, "Maybe you can discuss your woes over a drink with Charles Dickens?"
"Already done that." The Doctor reflected, "Poor chap's recital was ruined by an undead audience member."
The girls shared mutual exhausted stares of mockery. Martha asked pleadingly, "Can we swap dates?"
Madison warned, "Mine works for a megalomaniacal pharmaceutical company."
Martha looked at the Doctor, "Hey, I think I found someone who is precisely your type."
LATER
The Doctor stood near the boarding ramp and held his invitation, "Everyone is boarding. We should join."
Martha looked around her as elegantly dressed attendees filed toward the moored boat, "What about Madison?"
"Don't worry, she'll be there. It's her mission."
Martha pouted her lips as she read her invitation, her right stiletto heel twisting slightly on the concrete. "Apparently, we're both research specialists and sharing a suite." She narrowed the gap between them, biting her bottom lip.
He quipped, "You come across as such a milk van girl."
She grinned, "Care to say that one a little louder without context?"
"is that your way of saying that you prefer the couch?"
"Bad idea. If our suite is bugged, the masquerade won't seem authentic," Martha countered.
The Doctor shrugged, "Maybe someone snores too loud."
She slid his hand into hers, tangling their fingers, "Sounds like an ideal staging for a fiery couple's fight."
"That explains why you'll be bulking up our room service bill."
Martha slapped his arm with her other hand and laughed, "While you can spend the night with adult movies."
"I get a Bed and TV? Your terms are acceptable."
"Assuming that you will win the very passionate argument, Mister. Maybe you can redeem yourself. Let's board."
The superyacht's nose sliced through the chilly waters of the Thames beneath a star-glistened sky, sparkling like diamonds on black velvet.
The Doctor and Martha strolled along the lower deck hand-in-hand while live jazz music blared from inside the yacht's internal function space.
Madison's voice sounded in their earpieces. "Good evening, team, I hope we're enjoying the festivities."
"Weeell," the Doctor opened after twisting the communication pin, "Uneventful for now. Maybe there hasn't been enough alcohol."
"All is quiet where we're standing too. Where are you?"
"Lower starboard, just taking in the view. How about you?" The Doctor asked.
"We're inside, circling the bar. No sign of Hirst."
Martha chimed, "Probably busy with her benefactors."
The Doctor huffed, "Answering some sensitive questions, I'd say."
Madison advised, "We'll keep an eye out. If anything changes, we'll let you know."
"Same at our end," the Doctor replied.
Martha sighed, "Such a nice evening. A shame it's work. I nearly
forgot until Madison buzzed."
"The spy game can't be all fun and games, Miss Jones."
"What is it that you actually do for fun? Like recreation? Or is that too human?"
"No idea yet. My previous selves were quite varied. One loved Judo, one had an ear for Puccini, one played the recorder, and one was a cricket addict."
Martha shrugged, "Not a fan of any of that?"
"Nah! Been there, done that, got the t-shirt."
"I think you need a drink," Martha said. She looked at him in his preoccupied state, clearing her throat, "Still here, Mister?"
He peered over the deck, observing, "Now, that's unusual."
"What?" She unhooked her hand from his, standing alongside him as the breeze swayed her untied hair.
"Look at the three speedboats."
Martha rested her arms horizontally on the gold railing, "For emergency exits, security breach?"
"Bouncer staff usually don't wear hazmat suits." He gestured to the farthest boat to indicate that there was a person dressed precisely in the outfit he described.
Martha spied the boat, "Are they preparing a ramp?"
The Doctor breathed in, "Well spotted. Let's take a closer look." He strode starboard, seeing several boats drifting alongside the superyacht.
He descended a set of stairs, whispering, "They're definitely unloading something."
He approached the boarding zone, where personnel were disembarking from several moored speedboats.
They were both halted by a man dressed in a black suit and tie with a white shirt.
The man upheld his right hand, "Can I help you?"
The Doctor improvised, "Ummm, yeah. I need the loo."
"No can do. This area is off-limits to passengers. Restrooms are on the upper deck."
The Doctor bounced on his feet with accelerated jogging on the spot, "Yeah, but I'm busting. Like I'm verging," he trailed off, pressing his lips together, filling his cheeks with air while using his hands to imitate a tightly packed bladder bursting.
The man shook his head.
"He really can't wait!" Martha explained.
The man's stern expression was perpetually unwavering.
Martha tugged the Doctor's arm back toward the stairs.
LATER
The art-deco-inspired function space was abuzz with guests beneath a dome-roofed circular floor.
Central to the floor was an open area doubling as a dancefloor and a space for congregating.
A bar, meanwhile, consumed a quarter of the wall.
Parallel to the bar stood a stage with a podium.
The Doctor and Martha stood at the bar.
"There must be another way down there," he leaned into the bar, devising a plan.
Martha sipped her champagne while perched on a neighbouring barstool, "Can I help with a distraction?"
"No, it could sound an alarm. I bet you will find an additional security detail below deck."
Spying over her champagne glass, Martha observed something peculiar about the other guests, noticeably on their chests. "Then maybe we lack the credentials."
"Hmmm?"
Martha nodded to one woman, "See that Knockout blonde at six o'clock wearing a blue dress? Her name is written in black, while her title beneath her name is written in red."
The Doctor tilted his head, "I don't follow."
Martha tapped her fingertips against his nametag, "Ours are all written in black."
"Red seal of approval?"
"Exactly my thoughts."
He crossed his arms, dubious of the strategy, "That could go against the directive of discretion."
Martha patted his arm, "No mishaps are beyond a few shouted beverages. Maybe you could use that boyish charm on these gorgeous women."
"That's an option," he nodded, "I'm on the couch after all."
"We can talk about that," Martha winked.
Suddenly, the lights dimmed, and the music softened.
An announcement followed over the audio system, "Attendees of this evening's Braxietal event, good evening. Please gather for a word from our president, Professor Angela Hirst."
Martha looked at the Doctor, "Think she'll notice us from over here?"
"Nah, it should be fine if we don't get cocky. Let's stay put."
Unanimously, the room's attention focused on Hirst.
Her blonde hair was slicked back into a pompadour fringe.
She was dressed in a glistening sequined cherry-red maxi dress, with smooth skin exposed through a rear cut-out that ran from her shoulders to the middle of her back.
Her red stiletto heels and the dress's turtleneck accentuated her height, and a pair of black teardrop earrings made from ivory completed the look.
Hirst's looser-fitting sequined fabric swayed like a cabernet-coloured wave with each step across the stage.
She addressed the attendees, "Each of you in attendance tonight plays a crucial role in the evolution of humanity."
"No doubt," the Doctor murmured.
"Braxiatel brings humanity closer than ever to a medical utopia where terminal illness, common disease, and neural complications are relics of the past. Each of you has contributed valiantly. A vision that will resolve medical tyranny where elite care is available for all. Braxiatel is an open invitation to elevate the human species beyond humanity!"
An explosive applause, accompanied by enthusiastic stomps of feet, filled the room, and smartphone flashes glowed like a united fleet on a darkened sea.
The Doctor remained leaning against the bar with his arms folded, "She isn't even hiding it. She wants to cleanse you all of humanity."
Martha looked around the room as Hirst continued.
She pushed off away her barstool, watching one of the darkened corners, whispering, "Doctor."
The Doctor tracked Martha's observation and noticed a man collapsing in the corner near a faint green mist that swelled in a small cloud from a nearby vent.
Martha's hand slid along the Doctor's forearm, directing his attention toward another secluded section of the room where a woman had collapsed near a cloud of green gas.
"I doubt it's the drinks." The Doctor sharply whispered.
As he looked around, he could see other bulbous green hisses of smoke emitting from several other vents.
Martha moved away from the Doctor while he pointed toward three men in black suits who were dragging an unconscious man into the corridor.
Martha then gazed to where the woman had collapsed. "They're doing the same to that woman!"
The Doctor faced the bar, activating his lapel pin, "Madison, are you seeing a green gas anywhere?"
A delay preceded Madison replying, "Copy. Yes."
"Two people who stood near it have fainted." He looked to the rest of the room as Hirst's speech continued, "Nobody else has collapsed."
Madison confirmed, "I only saw one person, but I definitely saw the gas."
"It's only impacting selected people. We were too slow. They had already been dragged away by security."
"Exactly the same here, Doctor. Go to the corridor, turn left, and keep walking until you see a smaller staircase on the right."
"On our way!"