75AN: And that's all for now, folks. I really have to finish this season at the least…
Eleven: Loons and Lungbarrow II
"'Connect the Doctor's Space-Time Telegraph to your main communication systems, take the crystal, plug it into the telegraph and wait for the Law of Gallifrey. Love and salutes from Cardiff, Group Captain J. Harkness, Torchwood.' I think he could have saved on the love, sir." – "The thing is dialling up every major UNIT station on earth!" – "Hello young ones. Where's the fire?"
"Let's go, Time Relic!" Donna shouted, grinning. – "Good. I'd say vamos, but before that, we have to collect someone else." – "And who might that be?" – "The founder of UNIT. These idiots in London sent him to Peru." – "It has been a while. Alistair. Defender of the People, one who holds off the enemies. Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart. Last time I saw you, you barely stood up to my sash." – "Your sash … no. No. It can't be, but then again … Professor Lungbarrow?" – "'Whatever you do with your life, the choice is to be yours, young one.'"
"Fifty two deaths at the exact same moment, worldwide. They were all inside their cars." – "They were all fitted with ATMOS. ATMOS can be threaded through any and every make of car." – "Then they've got poisonous gas in every car on Earth."
"Sontaran!" – "General Staal, of the Tenth Sontaran Fleet. Staal the Undefeated." – "The Professor, Lord High Valeyard of the Seven and Law of Gallifrey. Also known as The Raging Sea and the Engineer of Eternity."
"Code Red, Sontaran. But if they're inside the factory tell them not to start shooting. UNIT will get massacred. We'll get back as soon as we can." – "I'll do it. It might take a while though. Greyhound One over and out." – "There's gas inside the car! He's going to choke! Professor! Professor! Professooor!"
11
Imprimisque hominum est propria veri inquisitio atque investigatio. (The first duty of sentient beings is seeking after the truth and the investigation of it.) – Cicero
Shaking herself – and going for the third time in a day on respiratory bypass (ouch) – the Professor reached under her keetu and pulled out the laser spanner. "Get out of my way." Pushing Donna aside, she aimed the heavy tool at the hinges of the car door, causing it to fall out of the frame after she gave it a hearty slap. Quickly rehooking the spanner, she dragged Wilf out of the car. "Too close. Breathe, breathe."
Wilf coughed, his lungs protesting at the abuse as he leant against the Healer's form. Donna stared in disbelief at the door, which, frankly speaking, now laid in its individual pieces on the ground. "What the hell …?!"
"Laser Spanner. These potato-headed idiots may be able to deadlock cars remotely, but even deadlocked doors have …" she pointed at the bolt and other small parts, "hinges. I figured that if it's more or less soundproofed, they forget to protect it against laser. It's basically a power tool variant of a sonic."
"Nice thinking."
"I should have put on full gear though. We could make due with personal atmospheric converters." The Professor helped Wilf to his feet, guiding him to the front door.
"Thank you."
Sylvia, who had come out with an axe ("for burglars") in order to smash the windows, reached for him. "You're just like that son of yours."
Ignoring the woman's attitude, the Lungbarrow advised, "Get inside the house. Just try and close off the doors and windows."
Just then, Ross arrived with squealing tires, driving a London taxicab. "Professor. This is all I could find that hasn't got ATMOS," he called.
"That's okay, Ross. Donna, are you coming?" She got inside the taxi.
The ginger turned around, away from her family. "Yeah."
"Donna. Don't go. Look what happens every time these people appear. Stay with us, please," Sylvia protested.
Only to be backstabbed by her own father. "You go, my darling."
"Dad!"
"Don't listen to her. You go with the Professor. That's my girl!" he cheered as Donna got into the car. "Bye."
"Floor it," the Professor ordered their designated driver.
"Yes, ma'am!" And off they went.
11
Meanwhile, UNIT was struggling with the fumes from their own various vehicles, the only exception being the truck. "All soldiers to withdraw. Make the factory secure and take positions on the ground floor," a soldier called on PA.
"Wicowsky, take the soldiers into the factory. Make the area secure. Seal off doors and windows," Mace ordered, currently being about the least happy UNIT commander on planet Earth. "And turn these death traps off!"
"We've tried everything, it just won't stop," a young sergeant complained as they pushed out the jeeps from the loading bay of the factory.
Frustrated, Mace strode over to the mobile headquarters, nearly running over a young motorcycle courier. "What have we got?"
The com officer looked up at his boss in distress. "ATMOS is running wild, sir. It can't be stopped, it's everywhere. The whole planet."
"Fuck," Alan cursed under his breath and turned to his predecessor, who was pouring over a mountain of files and waving him closer. "What is it, sir?"
"Trouble." Alistair harrumphed in similar frustration. "I, for one, cannot believe these aren't digitised yet, but here." As the younger officer bowed towards him, he whispered, "Did you follow our advice?"
In the same quiet voice, Mace answered, "Of course. Silent alert. Only the officers know for now. But why can't we fight them?"
"She was somewhat preoccupied with an ATMOS she'd set off accidentally. Anyway, the reason for the courier I asked for is this." He pointed at one of the many case files of The Doctor, marked with the man's call sign: Timeless One. "Our opponent in this mess are the Sontarans, stress on the second syllable. Warrior race, love nothing more than a good fight. And apparently, we have the wrong weapons to confront them right now, hence the silent alert and the no engagement advice."
"Any weakness?"
Alistair opened the corresponding page of the report. "Back of the neck, there's a probic vent. Hit it, they get stunned. Pierce it with a sharp object, they're history."
Mace scowled. "Translation. If we want to fight them right now, we would have to resort to close combat, and the risk on that is way too high. I just hope they'll be back soon."
11
As if someone had heard the Colonel's prayers, in that very moment, the taxicab with the Professor and Donna arrived with squealing tires. "You drive like crazy, Ross," the Time Lady commented on the young man's interpretation of 'floor it'.
"All part of the service, ma'am." Jenkins grinned.
"Look after yourself. Get inside the building," she advised, her and Donna leaving the car.
"Will do. Greyhound Forty to Trap One. I have just returned the Professor to base safe and sound. Over."
11
"Trap one, received, over." Mace turned his eyes to the Brig. "Well, there's that. Let's hear what she's got to say."
"If the Doctor's accounts of her are right, you might consider taking orders from her," Alistair sighed. "Anyway, since they're back, call Code Red."
"Indeed, and I don't mind." Mace lifted the small mic of his radio. "All troops. Code Red Sontaran, repeat, Code Red Sontaran." He took a look around, wondering. Where is Marion?
Outside, Donna and the Professor were walking towards her TARDIS. "The air is disgusting," the ginger complained.
"It's not so bad for me. Respiratory bypass and all." Snapping her fingers, she opened Arara's doors. "Go on, get inside the TARDIS. Air should be fine inside."
"Okay." Noticing the alien woman following her in, she turned around. "What the hell are you doing?" she called as she noticed the Professor changing her coat and sash, as well as picking up a black toolbox, again with the hourglass mark.
As the woman had switched clothes and secured the (scarlet and orange) sash as well as a white and blue tasselled cord with a golden pull-through clasp seal, Donna had to blink a few times – the damn thing was even whiter than her regular keetu, glaring like snow in a whiteout. "I'm going to stop a war, so it's time to put on a show. This is ceremonial dress uniform. And the box is the rest of my gear: Atmospheric filter, gravity leveller, and my gauntlet." She clipped the filter – a clip-shaped contraption not bigger than a small pin-back button or a large lapel pin – on the left side of her collar and the gravity leveller to her tool belt, still hidden under the keetu. "Just stay in here. Arara will know when I need both your help."
Finally, she took off the black glove covering her left, pushed up the sleeve, and took out a thin, blue and black metallic gauntlet from the box that had the same air of elegance and danger as a masterfully crafted sword. As the Time Lady brought it near her left arm, Donna could see why the woman wore gloves: With the mysterious gauntlet close to the limb, a web of implants shimmered blue and golden through the fair skin, writing Circular Gallifreyan onto her body. Oh my god. She … I bet half of that gauntlet is actually under her skin, she thought as the tool came in contact, the glow disappearing as the links were confirmed and the gauntlet enclosed the limb like a second skin. Then, the Professor pulled down her sleeve and the glove back on. I wonder what this is for. Shaking her head, Donna nodded. "Watch yourself."
"If Time lets me." And she was gone.
11
The Professor rushed into the Panopticon truck. "Right then, I'm back. Whatever you do, Colonel Mace, do not engage the Sontarans in battle. There is nothing they like better than a war."
"And what are you going to do?" the officer in question asked.
"I've got the TARDIS. I'm going to get on board their ship," she shrugged. "Mix them up a little."
Putting down the file he was handling, Alistair got to his feet. "Count me in."
The Time Lady smirked. "Wouldn't have it any other way, Alistair."
They walked back to where Arara had occupied one of the walls – and came face to face with 'just a wall'. "Where is she? I mean, Arara isn't exactly sane, but she'd never take off without you, would she?"
"No." She took a sniff of the air and rubbed the fingers of her right hand together. "Taste that, in the air. Yikes. That sort of metal tang. Teleport exchange. It's the Sontarans. They've taken it. Will you look at that? Well, now I have an idea how Theta felt when he was stuck here …"
"Not the best feeling in the world, I take it."
"I'm stuck on Earth like a human. How rubbish is that? Sorry, no offence, but come on!" She made a face.
"None taken, and I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"My grinning." Indeed, Alistair had a hard time not laughing at the situation, remembering how much the Third Doctor had hated to be stuck on one relatively primitive planet, in one time, and now seeing the man's mother making a face that was pure dismay was just the icing on the cake. Sobering up, he asked, "So what do we do?"
"Well, I mean, it's shielded. They could never detect it." All going according to plan, if seeing Mace's personal blonde running past us is any indicator.
Alistair narrowed his eyes at that. "What are you planning?"
The grimace slowly turned into a devious smirk. "Pulling one over the Sontarans. They have a double agent amongst UNIT. I'm going to turn their own stratagem against them."
"Risky," the old soldier frowned, still glaring. "Who?"
"It's the blonde captain. She's perfect for the job – highest clearance and all."
"Then what do we do? And what about Miss Noble?"
"Keep them from a nuclear strike, Alistair. I'll make sure the Earth won't choke." Turning her eyes to the sky, she smirked again. "And about Donna, by the time she and Arara are back on Earth, these bloody potatoes will wish they'd never met her. Vamos!"
11
"Change of plan," the Professor announced, storming the mobile HQ and tossing her silver overcoat on a filing cabinet.
Predictably, the ceremonial dress now coming into view caused quite a few people to blink again. Shaking his head to get the colour dapples out, Mace greeted her, "Good to have you fighting alongside us, Professor."
"I rather don't. If I have to resort to fighting, I have already compromised most of what it means to be a Time Lady," the woman in question grumbled. She shook her head. "Anyway. Reed. Do we know what that gas is exactly yet? I could make neither heads nor tails of it."
"Working on it, ma'am," the UNIT CMO answered.
"It's harmful, but not lethal until it reaches eighty percent density. We're having the first reports of deaths from the centre of Tokyo City," the voice of Marion Price cut in, having entered in the wake of the Professor.
The entrance earned her a cross of a worried look and a glare from Mace. Where the hell have you been?!
Unconcerned, Price went back to her duty station, only to be stopped by the Professor. "I am terribly sorry to say, but I never really got your name, captain."
Saluting automatically – and getting an eye roll – the blonde intoned, "Captain Marion Price, ma'am."
Alistair took his seat again, boxing in the last report from the Doctor that didn't have to do with the Sontarans. "Jodrell Bank's traced a signal, Professor, coming from five thousand miles above the Earth. We're guessing that's what triggered the cars."
Mace gestured at the screen. "It's right over us."
The screen showed a tracer echo high in the sky. "Geostationary orbit? Odd choice for a battle carrier," the Professor remarked, the analysis being of the usual speed.
"True enough, but of no concern for us. NATO has gone to Defcon One. We're preparing a strike," Mace explained.
"Stop it," Alistair ordered, causing Mace to splutter.
"But sir, we–"
"Do you want to make the Sontarans angry, Colonel? That ship has energy shields; you wouldn't even scratch it. Besides, that would be monumentally stupid – I told you before, there's nothing Sontarans love more than a good fight," the Time Lady sighed, pulling out her IR sonic. "Open a com channel to the Sontarans. Talk first, fight later."
"But you're not authorised to speak on behalf of the Earth," Mace protested as the Valeyard pushed him aside.
"Well, that's why I have Alistair and you here, Mace. Besides, I may not have authority to speak on behalf of Earth's population, but since this world is at least watched in the sense of Article Nine of the Shadow Proclamation, I certainly am able to speak on behalf of intergalactic law enforcement. It's in my job title, remember?" Before the men could protest against the entire proceedings, she pushed the blue emitter of the tool to the controls. "Calling the Sontaran Command Ship under Jurisdiction Two of the Intergalactic Rules of Engagement, as well as Article Fourteen of the Shadow Proclamation – Trespassing on territory occupied by one or more of the Higher Races, and Article Nine, Paragraph Five of the Shadow Proclamation – Interference with the evolution of a Watched World. This is The Professor, The Law of Gallifrey, Lord High Valeyard of the Seven and Subsidiaries on behalf of the Shadow Proclamation, and General Lethbridge-Stewart on behalf of Planet Earth."
"Well woman, breathing your last?" Staal sneered on the main view screen.
To no effect of course. Somewhat bored, she answered, "You know, that insult would work if you weren't talking to a Chronarch. Again. Anyway …"
"My God, they're like trolls," Mace muttered numbly as his predecessor followed the lady in white to a seat in the next row.
"Not the most diplomatic, are you?" She shook her head, sitting down. "The correct insult is potatohead by the way. Alistair."
"Right." The man in question collected himself, trying to gauge his Sontaran (well, what according to the Doctor and Miss Smith was such) opponent, as well as the plan they had used so far, and came up with an odd number. „General Staal. Speaking as another soldier, can you answer me a simple question and tell me since when the Sontaran Empire has become a conglomerate of cowards?"
"My word. I knew Time Lords who had more courage in a Mindbending contest. Against me," the Professor threw in.
"How dare you!"
"And you call that diplomacy?"
"We call it war," Alistair corrected, recognising the mental tactics employed by most incarnations of the Doctor he'd met. Well, that answers where he has it from.
"You dare impugn my honour, Professor?!" Staal gnawed out, finally acknowledging his contrahent.
"I'm actually quite glad you didn't say belittle, because then I'd have a field day," the Valeyard leant back in the chair, propping up her feet on the console. "And yes, I am, since you seem to be awfully intent of letting it go down the drain."
"My honour is not yours to question!"
"And pray tell, where is that alleged Sontaran honour, General Staal?" Alistair coolly cut in, trying to keep down the snark rate (what Mace lacked in experience to the Prof, he balanced out with frustration and talent, and Staal was a typical Sontaran chauvinist, which was a big no-no with a Gallifreyan matriarch). "And yes, I dare questioning it, since you are attacking an entire planet, most of them non-combatants, without even joining the fray. Instead, you choose to use poison gas? That's the weapon of a coward and you know it." He glared for good measure.
"Staal, you could blast this planet out of the sky and make it burn with the fires of war," the Professor continued, her disgusted tone a jarring contrast to her relaxed posture. "And yet you're sitting up above watching it die. Where's the fight in that? Where's the honour?"
Alistair considered this, and frowned. "Or are you planning something beyond simple conquest, because this isn't normal Sontaran warfare. What are you up to?"
The Time Lady shot him a smile. "I can see why Theta likes you. You always try to consider ideas that do not exactly fit the word normal."
"The word normal went out of the window the day I met the Doctor, my friend."
"A general would be unwise to reveal his strategy to the opposing forces," Staal interrupted, in a way that was a poor attempt at hiding something.
Especially for a Gallifreyan motor-mouth as the Professor. "Lol. The war's not going so well, then. Losing, aren't we?" she mocked. You can't out-talk a Time Lord. Ever. We love being pompous too much. Especially a Lungbarrow.
"Such a suggestion is impossible."
"Which war was that again, Professor?" Alistair asked quietly. While he did know the Sontarans lived for one single war, he couldn't quite remember which one they had dedicated their passions to.
The Time Lady snorted with contempt. "The war between the Sontarans and the Rutan Host. It's been raging, far out in the stars, for fifty thousand years. Fifty thousand years of senseless bloodshed, and for what?"
"For victory! For the glory of Sontar!" Staal announced, starting to chant the classical battle cry 'Sontar-Ha', the rest of the crew joining in.
"Just great. At least, when we fought the Last Great Time War, we fought for something bigger than ourselves," she sighed. "Oh give me a break …" Shaking her head, she got to her feet. "Let's hope this works …"
And then, to everyone's astonishment, she began to sing, in a language that out of all in this room only Alistair had ever heard before, not that he had ever heard this exact song, but the haunting words cut to his soul. Afra eo, hafara eo. Tos nuvila, afera ea. Tsuras mai, turas mor na saliera. Linesh tuperello Rassilon. Linesh tuperela Omega. Linesh tuperello Oterar. Allente vai Gallifrey.
If not for the fact that everyone, including the chanting Sontarans, had gone still the moment she started to sing, he doubted anyone would have heard it, so quietly she had sung. Shaking himself, Alistair seized the moment of silence. "Are you quite finished, General Staal?"
"How dare you …"
"What was that?" Mace asked, a little puzzled.
"Ballad of the Founders, First stanza. Also known as the Hymn of Rassilon. It is said to invoke the spirits of Time Lords long gone. I wasn't sure though if the psychic energy in it would be enough to be carried via radio." The Professor shrugged. "Anyway, Staal. Just for reminders. Time Lords dare a lot, given enough time. Potatohead."
"You will not be so quick to interrupt us with obscure Time Lord chants when you'll see our prize. Behold. We are the first Sontarans in history to capture a TARDIS," Staal finished proudly, showing the work-coloured Arara. The black-framed white door was covered in Sontaran Teleporter markers.
"Arara? Dear me. As far as prizes go, that one's pretty … noble. As they say in Latin, Donna nobis pacem." Time for Donna to learn what it means to be a companion. And who she is.
Alistair suppressed a smile – Staal had played the Professor's game like a green cadet. How that one became a general I'll never know.
"Why you …"
"Did you never wonder about the design of my son's TARDIS? It's a phone box. It contains a phone. A telephonic device for communication. Sort of symbolic. Like, if only we could communicate, you and I." There. That should do it.
"I do not have time for obscure Time Lord jests, Professor."
"I am not in the mood or mode to joke Staal. And if you don't cease this nonsense, you'll have another thing coming for you." She pulled out a mauve coloured object with a big button in the middle, marked with black, star-like symbols, and held it up so Staal had a clear view of it. "You wouldn't like them to come, would you?"
Her anger was rewarded as the Sontaran commander visibly recoiled. "You wouldn't call them."
Mace shot her a confused look. "What's that?"
The Professor pocketed the device again and shrugged casually. "Oh that? That's a homing beacon and back-temporal alarm signal giver. For the 45th Antarian Imperial Police Patrol Fleet, also known as …"
Staal interrupted her. "… The Neverdocks. You wouldn't dare."
The Professor glared again, and got a flinch this time. "If you have any form of an inkling of who I am, you should know that there's a lot I dare to do if the day is long enough. Whoops. I'm a Time Lady, so my days are as long as I like. Now. It was a big mistake though, showing Arara to me."
"All you convey to me is your desperation, Professor, if you are willing to bring that to Earth!"
She held up her wrist. "I also have a remote control."
"Cease transmission!" The screen went blank.
"I think that went well."
"Well?!" Alan exploded. "That was a complete waste of time!"
"I doubt it. She actually scared him," Alistair interjected. "What has him so scared about this particular Antarian fleet, old friend? I know that the World Makers are no laughing matter as enemy, but still."
"The 45th is made up of duty-obsessed fanatics, even by Antarian standards." The Time Lady took a calming breath. "Save for the officers, the entire fleet crew is made up of the hereditary extremists of the Antarians known as the Supremacists. They are a fifteen percent minority of warriors, militaristic, efficient and ruthless. To them, things like Sontarans are less than insects and humans are not much higher in the rankings unless a non-supremacist calls them on it. Add to that the fact that Antarians have no notion whatsoever of overkill … it's not pretty. Finally, this fleet is called Neverdocks for a reason – they're so hardcore in doing their job they never dock as a whole. To become a Neverdock, you must have logged less than two months of holiday in a decade." Both soldiers blinked, unable to actually imagine living like that. "Besides, he was right in a way. This is already bizarre enough, going up against a Defence fleet in invasion, so I'll only call them as a last resort. I really don't want to bring here a fleet which is made up of maniacs who fight after the 'ashes to ashes' principle."
"Right then." Mace nodded slowly. "Anyway. There's one thing that still puzzles me, ma'am. Why are we not supposed to engage the Sontarans in direct battle?"
"Do you shoot by any chance with steel FMJs?"
"No ma'am."
"Then don't. These Sontarans we have to deal with use a Cordolaine signal field to stop your bullets. The signal excites the copper in the brass jackets, jams them in the barrel."
Alistair sighed. "So we better get some copper-free ammunition, hm?"
"It would be wise. Until then, it's retreat." She turned around to Reed, who was working with a scanner on a big sample of the poison gas. "What do you have so far?"
The man handed her his clipboard. „There's carbon monoxide, hydrocarbons, nitrogen oxides, but ten percent unidentified. Some sort of artificial heavy element we can't trace. You ever seen anything like it?"
Well, that explains why I couldn't completely reconstruct it from memory. There's a part that's new to me. „It must be something the Sontarans invented recently. This isn't just poison. They need this gas for something else. What could that be?"
"Launch grid online and active," Price intoned.
"Positions, ladies and gentlemen, Defcon One initiatives in progress," Mace announced.
"You are making a mistake, Mace," Alistair warned. "It won't work."
"I told you not to launch," the Professor glared, giving back the clipboard.
"The gas is at sixty percent density. Eighty percent and people start dying, Professor. We've got no choice," Mace answered, his tone clearly stating how much he hated the idea as well.
"Launching in sixty, fifty nine, fifty eight, fifty seven, fifty six. Worldwide nuclear grid now coordinating. Fifty four, fifty three," the Ops coordinator called, taking over from Price.
"This is no solution, Colonel. For once, I hope the Sontarans are ahead of you," the Valeyard gnawed out.
"North America, online. United Kingdom, online. France, online. India, online," the man continued. "Pakistan, online. China, online. Russia, online. North Korea, online. All systems locked and coordinated. Launching in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five …"
"God save us," both Alistair and Mace whispered.
"Four, three, two, one, zero." And the screen went black.
"What is it? What happened? Did we launch? Well, did we?" Mace demanded.
"Negative, sir. The launch codes have been wiped, sir. It must be the Sontarans."
"Can we override it?"
"Trying it now, sir," the lieutenant answered, stabbing frantic fingers at the console.
The Professor frowned. "Missiles wouldn't even dent that ship, so why are the Sontarans so keen to stop you? Any ideas?"
"Not really, ma'am." Mace shook his head and reached for his microphone.
Meanwhile, Ross Jenkins sat with a few of his comrades in one of the corridors of the factory. "It's stinking out there. Shush. Keep it down lads."
"Trap One to all stations. Do not engage the Sontarans in battle. I repeat, do not engage the Sontarans in battle. Retreat on sight," Mace's voice sounded over his radio.
As if that was a cue, a group of Sontarans came around the corner, causing the troop of soldiers to scramble into the side-door where Ross had been standing earlier. Slamming the door closed behind them, he pressed his radio. "Sontarans within factory grounds. East corridor, grid six."
11
Hearing Jenkins message, Alan cursed, and ordered, "Absolute emergency. Declaring Code Red. All troops, Code Red."
"Get them out of there," Alistair hissed, putting a hand on the phone he'd been on to get the right ammo. "We'll get slaughtered until we can fight back." Seeing the man's conflict, he added sternly, "That's an order Colonel! Get them out of there!"
"Trap One to all stations. Retreat. Order imperative. Immediate retreat." He turned to the Time Lady. "Happy now, ma'am?"
"Don't be like that. At least they'll live," she countered, the eyes focussed on time. "Before you said this, the timelines spelt a fricking massacre. Now it's more of a few lucky shots from the Sontarans." Indeed, on the monitor watching the factory entrances, the UNIT soldiers spilt out, energy bolt fire coming after them as the gates closed.
"But they've taken the factory."
"Maybe, but why? They don't need it. Why attack now? What are they up to?" She frowned. "What could possibly be inside for them to want it?" Shaking her head, she activated the radio she'd modified. "Timeless Zero to Greyhound 40. Report to the command post immediately."
Relief coursed through the three in charge as the answer came in, confirming the temporal observations of the Professor. "Received and understood, Timeless Zero. Coming in."
"Launch grid back online," the ops lieutenant reported, just in time for it to go back offline. "They're inside the system, sir. It's coming from within UNIT itself."
That had Mace frowning. "Trace it. Find out where it's coming from, and quickly. Gas levels?"
"Sixty six percent in major population areas, and rising," Price reported tonelessly.
Making a frustrated noise, Mace went to his office, the Professor and Alistair hot on his heels. He went over the reports. "Why are they defending the factory only after we were inside?"
"Isn't a bit obvious? Because they wanted UNIT here. You gave them something they needed. Something now hidden inside the factory. Something precious," the Time Lady muttered. "I bet that's how they got the launch codes."
"We've got to recover it. Sir Alistair, how is it going on the ammunition?"
„I have some trouble with it, since it's not something I am that familiar with," the old soldier admitted.
„I'll take care of it," Mace answered decisively, rushing out.
„I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help, old friend," the Brig apologised, only to be waved off.
„Nonsense. If you have a mobile phone on you, I'll be all set. Take over HQ and have an eye on Price. Wouldn't want to have her fall into our backs. And stop the launch."
"Of course."
After the man wordlessly handed her his mobile, she sonicked the thing to dial up one specific person. „Yes, Donna." On this, Alistair left, taking over command.
"Where the hell are you?"
"Still on Earth. And a teeny weensy bit too busy. But don't worry, I've got a secret weapon," she muttered into the phone.
"What's that?" both human companions wondered.
"You," the Professor answered the ginger's question, grinning at the thought.
"Oh. Somehow that's not making me happy. Can't you just zap us down to Earth with your remote?"
"Not now. I need you on that ship. That's why I made them move Arara." She paused. "I'm sorry, but you need to go outside."
"But there's Sontarans out there."
"They'll all be on battle stations right now. They don't exactly walk about having coffee."
"But what if they find me?"
"I know, and I wouldn't ask, but I've got my hands full down here. The whole planet is choking, Donna," she insisted.
"What do you need me to do?"
Just then, Ross Jenkins entered the office. "Private Jenkins reports as ordered, ma'am."
"Give me a moment, Ross," she dismissed, then continued her conversation with Donna. "The Sontarans are inside the factory which means they've got a teleport link with the ship, but they'll have deadlocked it. I need you to reopen the link."
"But I can't even mend a fuse." Donna's dismay was plain to hear, even over the phone.
"Donna, by the Nine Hells and Rassilon's mood stabilisers, stop talking about yourself like that. My son only takes along the very best. You can do this. I promise," the Time Lady insisted.
A beat. "There's a Sontaran outside the ship."
"Did he see you?"
"No, he's got his back to me."
"Right, Donna, listen. On the back of his neck on his collar there's a sort of plug, like a hole. That's the probic vent. One blow to the Probic vent knocks them out."
"But he's going to kill me."
"Then take my jacket, reverse it so it's grey and put it on. It's pretty-much-anything-proof. And before you protest about its size, I am a head taller than you are, so you should be fine. Did you think I wear that damn uniform just for fun?"
"Need I remind you your son wears Converse Chuck Taylor All Stars with a pinstripe suit every day."
"I wear black sonic boots, thanks. And you are kind of missing the point."
"Not really, but I thought it was just your house colours. The Doctor mentioned them to be white and black."
"And blue for the matter. The uniform is based upon them since one of my ancestors founded the Valeyards, and we don't have time for the history lesson. Come on. I'm sorry. I swear I'm so sorry, but you've got to try."
A longer pause. Finally, one could hear over the phone a muffled sound, and Donna was back on the phone. "Back of the neck. Down like a sack of potatoes."
"Great. Now then, you got to find the external junction feed to the teleport."
"What, what's it look like?"
"Circular panel on the wall. Big symbol on the front, like a Letter T with a horizontal line through it. Or two Fs back to back," the Professor explained.
"Oh. Well, there's a door …"
"Should be a switch by the side then."
"Yeah there is. But it's Sontaran shaped, you need three fingers."
The Time Lady blinked. Great. Case of Idiot Ball everywhere today. "Donna … You've got three fingers."
"Oh, yeah." A beat. "I'm through."
"Brilliant, my dear."
"Oh will you just shut up, Time Relic. Right. T with a line through it."
Cue in Mace returning. "Got to go. Keep the line open," she ordered. "Let's get this show on the road, Ross."
"Yes ma'am."
"Counter attack," Mace announced, tossing her a gas mask. "Positions. That means everyone."
The gas mask promptly passed from the Professor to Jenkins. "I'm all set, thank you." Squeezing the clip on her standing collar, she activated the device, causing a wave of yellow energy to pass over her. When Alan frowned at the matter, she elaborated, "Atmospheric conversion shield. Standard equipment for any field Valeyard for the last eight million years. I've chased people through liquid atmospheres at times."
"Right. Sir Alistair, you have command." They went outside, Price on their heels.
11
Outside, amongst boxes of ammunition and guns, Mace stopped, showing a rifle to the Time Lady. She was the only one not wearing a gas mask. "Latest firing stock. What do you think, Professor?"
"Not bad. What do you have for ammunition?"
"Bullets with a rad-steel coating. No copper surface. Should overcome the Cordolaine signal."
"Yes, that should do it."
"I am a bit surprised. Given your earlier reactions, I thought you don't like guns."
"You would have had a bigger problem with the Doctor. My son has a phobia of firearms since the Time War." She paused to put her scanner goggles back on. "I am not a fan of guns, no. But I know my weapons if I have to use them. Still, how are you going to see in this smog? Not like night vision would work."
"A bit more faith, ma'am. We're young, but not that young."
"I'm trying. And to me, everyone is young if they're not at least a thousand years older than myself."
"I see." Alan Mace removed his gas mask to address the troops, putting on his hat. "Attention all troops. The Sontarans might think of us as primitive, as does every passing species with an axe to grind. They make a mockery of our weapons, our soldiers, our ideals. But no more. From this point on, it stops. From this point on, the people of Earth fight back, and we show them. We show the warriors of Sontar what the human race can do. Trap One to Hawk Major. You have a go. I repeat, you have a go." A massive downdraft announced something descending out of the sky, blowing away the gas. "It's working. The area's clearing. Engines to maximum."
"It's the Valiant." The Professor smiled.
"UNIT Sky Ship Aircraft Carrier Valiant reporting for duty, Professor. With engines strong enough to clear away the fog," the Colonel announced proudly, just as the fog became thin enough for everyone to remove their gas masks.
The Time Lady laughed. "Brilliant. That's absolutely brilliant."
"Have we convinced you, ma'am?"
"Somewhat. Damn, she's kicking up a fricking storm!" Indeed, the mobile cloud base didn't just clear out the factory, but a good portion of the neighbourhood as well.
Mace reached for his radio. "Valiant, fire at will." Six green beams from the Valiant converged to form one that hit the ATMOS factory, striking through the roof, much akin to the super-laser of the Death Star in Star Wars.
"A Jathaa sunglider plasma beam system," the Professor whispered, blinking. "Impressive."
"You haven't seen anything yet, ma'am," Mace answered, a grin creeping onto his stern features. Reaching into one of the supply crates, he handed her an earwig for her 'super-radio'. "Here. That way we'll stay in contact."
"Thank you." Connecting the cable with the radio on her tool belt, she put on the small earphone and microphone. "Shall we then?"
"Certainly." Just then, a few of the soldiers used rocket launchers to blast away the loading bay doors: It was the Sontarans' turn to be massacred as the far more organised UNIT troops stormed the factory. Striding forward purposefully, Mace had to stop and blink as a white blur raced past him, a heavy crack of air indicating that whatever it was, it moved faster than the speed of sound, and knocked over an entire platoon of Sontarans as if they were bowling pins. When he and Jenkins finally reached the end of the row, they came face to face with a grinning Professor. "What in the name of God …"
"Who do you think Sonic the Hedgehog is based on, hmm?" The Time Lady tapped the top of her boots. "Sonic speed boots, also known as sonic boots. Does exactly what it says on the tin – I can run at supersonic speeds and get an air blast shield while doing so. Standard equipment for Valeyards for the last eight million years. Take that speed and yours truly in blue, you get a video game franchise with a hedgehog called Sonic."
"That gives a new definition to 'running something over'." He made a wave at one of his subordinates. "East and north secure. Professor?" Mace asked as the woman turned the opposite way.
"Leave the plant to the kids, Mace, you're with us." Taking out Alistair's mobile, she murmured, "I'm coming, Donna."
"But …" Nodding, he turned to two of his officers. "Secure the plant, and call in when you did so."
"Yes sir!"
Scanner goggles and sonic brandished, the Professor started to walk down to the cellar. "Alien technology this way, Alistair, Ross, colonel."
Unnoticed by them (more or less), another followed them down the corridors. It were Skorr, his sidekick Skeel and "Marion". The Sontarans, having tasted blood, followed the blonde to the cellar, smelling the biggest of glories in reach – killing the Professor and the UNIT commander. On his way, the commander was blocked by a group of soldiers which he dispatched quickly. "The honour of battle. The glory! Which way, woman?"
"Cellar. She's following her tool. I don't like this, sir."
"The Professor will die today, together with Earth, be assured of this," Skeel answered with glee.
"Yes sir."
11
Still following me, hmm? Perfect, the Professor thought as her ears picked up the shuffling of Sontaran boots coming down the stairs, so unlike her own silent steps or the clack-clack of her male companions.
Beyond that however, there was no resistance. "No Sontarans down here." Mace frowned.
"I told you, they can't resist a battle." Looking left and right down the cellar corridor, she turned left. "Here we go." At the end, they came to a locked door, which the Time Lady overrode with the sonic and a few button pushes. Not waiting for the soldiers, she rushed in to find Captain Marion Price strapped to a table, a metallic contraption stuck to her head. "Oh, I am sorry, young one." Checking the pulse just to be really sure, she muttered to the men, "still alive."
"What the hell is going on here?" Mace hissed, turning around … and coming face to face with well, 'Marion', aiming a gun at the Professor's head.
"You know, 'click hello' is considered exceedingly rude in at least 6000 different galaxies," the Professor mentioned casually. "Am I supposed to be impressed?"
"Wish you were carrying a gun now?" the double mocked, the two Sontarans coming up behind her.
"I don't need it," the Time Lady answered, and whirled around.
What happened now was so surrealistic that Mace had difficulties believing it, as while the Professor moved at near blurring speeds, proof of a master at hand-to-hand, the Marion double and the Sontarans were slowed to a point that it looked like they were moving through thick syrup instead of air. In the end, all three of them had been disarmed with a few well-aimed slaps, and the weapons tossed well out of their range. Then, as if someone had hit the normal speed button, the whole thing ended, both Sontarans and the Marion-double square on their backs, the Time Lady towering over them in what was obviously the finishing stance of an alien martial art, fingers spread wide as if carrying a plate on the tips. "What the hell …?"
"Temporal annulment equations, bent in a cage, warping time to slow to factor 0.4 around a desired area and factor 1.5 around yourself, combined with Mount Lung hand to hand style," she answered casually, lowering her hands. "I don't need a gun to break someone in small pieces, thanks."
"And yet you were clueless. I've been stopping the nuclear launch all this time," Marion II sneered, causing Mace to flinch on the inside, more about the tone than the words.
"Dancing exactly to my tune, well within my calculations." The Professor shook her head. „I needed to stop the missiles, just as much as the Sontarans. I'm not having Earth start an interstellar war. You're a triple agent."
Now the enemy party blinked. „When did you know?" Marion II asked, the only one who had not been too shaken by the counterattack.
"Did you really believe a Sontaran could fool a Gallifreyan Healer Geneticist? Huh? Anyway, it was the moment I laid eyes on you. Reduced iris contraction, your shade of hair is a tad too dark, and, frankly, you stink. You might as well have worn a T-shirt saying clone. Although, maybe not in front of Group Captain Jack Harkness, he might take it as an invitation. Also, you blundering idiots may have forgotten something – your sodding timelines are only a few hours long so far," she rattled down at that speed that left the ears ringing. "And on top of that, your original tends to make doey eyes at her colonel behind his back, being extremely forced in her professionalism if interacting with him. Yours was way too natural for someone with a crush on her boss. You remember her feelings, don't you. That's why the Sontarans had to protect her, to keep you inside UNIT. Marion Price is keeping you alive." With a flourish, she removed the device from Marion's head, and the clone collapsed.
With a gasp, the original Marion started awake, causing Mace to put his gun away and rush over. "It's all right, it's all right, I'm here, I'm here. I've got you, I've got you."
"Sir … I … There was this thing, this alien, with this head, and then nothing …"
Not hesitating, Mace stripped off his jacket and wrapped it around her. "It's okay, Marion."
"Colonel … I …" Tears of shame and shock were running down her cheeks. She'd been captured like this, and worse, her stupid crush on her superior had come to light (even if it did help uncovering the plot).
Thus, she was in for a surprise when she felt a feather-light kiss on her forehead. "We are both so stupid, Marion. But this is for later," Alan Mace whispered before turning to the Professor.
Who was on the phone again. "Dear me, perfect timing. Got it?"
"Yes. Now hurry up, will you?" Donna hissed from her end.
"Okay. Take off the covering. All the blue switches on the inside, flick them up like a fuse box, and that should get the teleport working."
"Professor?"
"Just wait, Colonel. – As I said Donna …" Not stopping, the Time Lady wandered over to the teleport pod, and thus had her back to the two Sontaran officers while she worked with the sonic on the controls.
The two potatoheads considered this a golden opportunity to attack as everyone was distracted, or so they thought. Angry at the coward's tactic, Alan stormed over to the one closer, Skorr. "You will face me, sir!" As the stunned Sontaran turned around, his carbine back in hand, the UNIT commander lifted his SIG … and put three bullets into the soldier's skull.
Skorr sunk to the ground. "Wonderful …" he whispered, the eyes fluttering closed in death.
Skorr's fate was in a way far more honourable than what awaited Skeel. At precisely the same time as Skorr faced his impending death, Skeel decided to go for victory at all costs, and tried to attack the Professor from behind, only to be painfully reminded of the difference in skill, strength and reach between the two of them: Without even sparing him a glance, the tall woman planted a staggering straight, horizontal kick into his stomach, causing him to stumble back at least two metres, and as he tried to reach her again, she had gotten back to her full height. A simple backwards grip to his head with her left, and Skeel vaporised in a shower of glowing golden particles, screaming in agony as chaos energy and temporal shifts tore him apart to the core of his very being. "You're too loud. Be gone." And she went back to work.
"What the hell …" Mace whispered.
"Gauntlet of the Founders. Sign of rank for the Lord High Valeyard, vaporises on touch amongst other things," the Time Lady answered absentmindedly, holding up her now gloveless left hand to reveal the artefact. "Haven't used it since the war though."
"Holy hell …"
Meanwhile, Marion had gone over to her double, who had slumped over to a metal scaffolding, clinging to it with failing strength. Said clone shrunk back. "Don't touch me," she wheezed.
"Hey. It's not my fault. The Sontarans created you, but you had all my memories," the blonde smiled; it was sad in a way.
"You've got an older brother, mother and father, and two nieces. And there's the Colonel."
"If you don't help me, they're going to die. All of them." Marion grimaced. "And I haven't said anything yet to Alan."
"You love them. You love him," the clone whispered, her mind a jumble.
"Yes. Remember that?"
"Tell us about the gas," the Professor called over her shoulder.
That seemed to rekindle Clone Marion's hostility. "I will never. You're the worst kind of enemy. You humiliated him in the end."
"He attacked a being with superior senses from behind. That's what you get. People tend to forget the ripples in time they make – a Chronarch feels them," the Time Lady dismissed.
Marion jumped into the breach, diffusing the situation. "Then tell me. It's not just poison, what's it for? Please, Marion."
Shaking, the double gave in to the plea of well, herself. "Caesofine concentrate. It's one part of Bosteen, two parts Probic five."
Ross, who was still watching the Professor's fast-paced workings, swore he heard the woman's thoughts make an emergency break, burning rubber, squealing tires and all. Or whatever a TARDIS uses to go from A to B.
In any case, it was the best way to describe the 900° turn the alien woman made to face her human companions. "Clonefeed. Now some things really become clear."
"Clonefeed?" the humans echoed.
"It is the equivalent of amniotic fluid for Sontarans. That's why they're not invading. They're converting the atmosphere, changing the planet into a clone world. Earth becomes one gigantic time-forsaken hatchery. Sontarans are clones, that's how they reproduce. Give them a planet this big, they'll create billions of new soldiers. The gas isn't poison, it's food. At least for them," she explained, getting back on track. "It also explains why of all Sontaran Fleets the Tenth attacked. You see, they're normally a defence fleet, tasked with protecting breeding grounds. My guess is, they lost one, and are trying to make a new one to cover up the failure."
Ross, who had slowly gone over to the Time Lady, sighed. "It's always the same, isn't it? No matter where or when in the universe."
"Pretty much."
Behind them, Clone Marion died, before them, Donna's voice whispered over the phone. "Professor."
The Professor snatched the small com tool and put it to her ear. "Donna."
"I've done the blue switches … but they've found me!"
Smirking, the Valeyard pressed her IR sonic against the teleporter … and Donna appeared, dressed in the Time Lady's normal working coat. "Welcome back."
"Have I ever mentioned that your family is cuckoo bananas?" the ginger complained, hugging the taller woman.
"Let go for a while, I have to get my TARDIS back." She activated the recall on her Stattenheim, causing Arara to appear in front of them. Then, she tore off the teleportation beacons. "There we go. Sorry Arara."
You better be, you genius dunce of a reincarnation.
You wound me, old friend. "Ross, feel like another trip? We have some stuff to do."
Grinning, Jenkins rushed over to the black framed white door, but turned back to his CO. "If you allow sir …"
Mace shook his head. "No, go ahead. But a question, Professor. That gas they're blowing into the atmosphere and the nuclear launch–"
"Keep the missiles on the ground. Caesofine gas is highly volatile – the missiles would ignite it. Without the right tools and calculations though, that would only cause a disaster. Call the launch off unless you're willing to risk it," she warned, earning a nod.
"Understood. Leave this part to me."
"Everyone on board!" she called, closing the door once her "crew" had entered, and a few grinding gears later, the black and white door was gone.
They reappeared in front of the teleport pod in Rattigan Academy, and were greeted by a hysterical Ratatouille, sorry, Rattigan, who was pointing a gun at them, babbling nonsense. Annoyed beyond her comfort zone, the Professor punched the weapon out of the teen's hand. "Did anyone ever tell you that guns aren't meant for threatening?" she muttered darkly, rushing over to the science lab. There, she scanned the equipment the pupils had been making. The Founders be praised, but sometimes things are just too convenient … no matter. Taking various items from the lab, she started building something else. "Well, I told you earlier about the Caesofine gas. It's so volatile a spark in the upper atmosphere would set it alight, which is why the Sontarans aren't attacking either, and why they had the cloned Price stop the nuclear launch."
Donna caught up immediately. "Can't very well make a clone world if the sky is set on fire, right."
"Exactly, sic! They need all the gas intact to breed their clone army. And all the time we had Ratatouille here in his dream factory. Planning a little trip, were we?" she snarled.
Visibly chastised, Luke mumbled, "They promised me a new world."
"And you fell for it, hook, line and sinker. You were building equipment, ready to terraform Mundus Lucii so that humans could live there and breathe the air with this. A Class II atmospheric converter. Not bad for someone with zero knowledge of the Skasis Paradigm." She carried the finished object outside, to the front lawn of the Academy.
Donna stared down the hill, frowning. The smog cloud of clone feed obscured everything. "That's London. You can't even see it. My family's in there."
"Already on it. Now, with some adjustments to the wiring, and the right setting …"
"Professor? Are you planning what I think you're planning?" Jenkins interrupted. "You said that stuff in the atmosphere burns."
"Yeah … Let's hope my record will hold and I am again not wrong," she muttered, activating the converter. A red orb shot into the sky … and boom! the heavens were set afire. Pressing the gauntlet-clad hand to her mouth, she whispered, "Ancestors, please … please!"
As suddenly as it began, it was over. Clear blue skies gleamed over them, marking it a glorious day.
11
At the ATMOS factory, the soldiers cheered as the sky burnt. Giving in to a sudden impulse, Marion Price grabbed her superior and kissed him deeply. Leaving both of them blushing like teenagers. Right. I think we've got a lot of things to talk about, don't we … Alan?
M-Marion?! Alan Mace was sure somewhere some higher being was laughing its ass off at their antics. Shaking his head, he activated his radio. "Trap One to Timeless Zero. What have you done now, ma'am?"
"Put a spanner or two into the works, Mace. Now excuse me."
11
On the lawn of Rattigan Academy, the owner of the school was awestruck. "She's a fricking genius."
"Just brilliant," Ross agreed.
The Professor however reopened her eyes, ending the acoustic surveillance of the 4th dimension. "Trouble time." Doubling back to the TARDIS with the atmospheric converter, the three humans hushed after her, with Rattigan having the classic "bigger on the inside" shock – and getting kicked out with the words, "Do everyone a favour, Ratatouille? Do something clever with your life that doesn't revolve around your own glory."
"Y-yes ma'am …" the teen stuttered, stunned at what he had seen. I am so out of my league, ain't I? And Idiot Me called her a grunt!
"Why are we in trouble, Professor?" Jenkins wondered. "The sky is clear again."
"Sontarans are never defeated unless faced with insurmountable odds. They will be getting ready for war," the Professor answered curtly, and then, she placed a call to the Sontarans. "Calling the Sontaran Command Ship under Jurisdiction Two of the Intergalactic Rules of Engagement, as well as Article Fourteen and Article Nine, Paragraph Five of the Shadow Proclamation. Again. This is The Professor, Lord High Valeyard of the Seven, The Law of Gallifrey and Subsidiaries on behalf of the Shadow Proclamation and Planet Earth. Now, General Staal …" In the control room, a hologram of the Sontaran bridge formed, showing the furious leader of the fleet. "I told you before that messing with this planet will have consequences. Your plan was averted, and thus … am I right that you have reverted to Basic Sontaran Stratagem One, also known as plain old invasion? Oh, don't even try to glare at me. For that, you're at least 16.000 years too early." She pulled out the signal giver. "Now, here's the deal. Either you get the fucking hell out of here, or I'll push that button which will send a signal to the Neverdocks to a point in time about half an hour ago, which means they'd show up right here, right now, and turn you to stardust as an afterthought."
"Your stratagem would be wise if Sontarans feared death, but we do not, Professor. At arms!"
The Professor turned away. "It's your funeral." While the Sontarans began their battle chant, the Time Lady held up the signal giver … and slammed down on its central button, causing a shrill sound to emanate from it. In answer, Arara's Cloister Bell rang twice, singing of disaster to come. The hologram switched to a view of Earth, as seen from the Moon. "And here they come."
Just as the Sontarans tried to fire their first shot, a fleet of five massive space cruisers, all of them resembling arrow- or spearheads, safe for one that was distinctly sword-shaped practically materialised in a protective formation around Earth, the Rheon cannon blasts harmlessly pinging off their dark grey Ditanium armour plating and shields. Compared to their size and elegance, the Sontaran command ship looked like a horned dung beetle, small and ugly. And then, just for a second, a man's voice could be heard whispering, resonating through the dimensions. Burn, you fools. Burn in hell. And then, all the ships fired something that glowed silver … but as the orbs enveloped the Sontaran ship, shields and all, it turned into orange-golden particles, tearing apart the energy links of the ship's structure like a storm of fireflies. Before their eyes, the ship and its fighters started to dissolve.
"Professor, what in the name of god is that?" Donna whispered, frightened.
"That … is a chaos particle launch in barrage form. The only way to shield against that is using anti-chaos shielding. Which is no technology the Sontarans have. Others do, like the Daleks, but they all are powerful enough to make the Antarians consider them a threat to all of creation. Sontarans are nothing but a nuisance to them. Unimportant in the Great Weave of all Things," the Time Lady answered slowly. "The voice you heard earlier is a projection of the current commander of the Neverdocks, Admiral-Commissioner Lord Telel. You've heard him. That phrase sums up his entire fleet's attitude. And there it goes boom."
Indeed, the structural damage was now so great it could no longer contain the ship's own power sources, and in a brilliant flash of white and gold, the Tenth Sontaran Battle Fleet vanished. The view was replaced with the hologram of a grim warrior, apparently sitting in a command chair. By his looks (he was absurdly tall, tanned and had black hair), Donna could tell he was an Ophan – a Throne, and probably an old one at that, considering his rank and position. "Greetings Milady Professor. Anything else you wish to have pulverised?"
"Greetings, Admiral Telel. No, thank you, that was all. Swift and clean as always. Always a pleasure, even if I think that bringing the entire core fleet is a little much."
"'A little much?!'" Donna echoed.
"There's no word in modern High Antarian for overkill Donna."
"Oh my god."
Telel laughed. "Maybe. But we were out of work for weeks now. It has become a little too quiet these days, if you catch my drift."
The Professor nodded slowly. "I'll keep my eyes open. Stars bright on you, Telel."
"All skies friends to thee forever, Professor," Telel sent back, and his hologram vanished. On the scanner screen, the police fleet left their protective positions around the planet, went into formation, and, through a visible crack in the darkness, they vanished again, and so did the crack.
"Well, there's that." The Professor began setting coordinates for the ATMOS factory.
Ross Jenkins had trouble getting the starry look out of his eyes. "Is there more like this out there?"
"I don't know even where to begin, Ross," she answered, pulling the handbrake. "But before we land, there's one thing I'd like to ask, since you asked this …"
The young soldier blinked, slowly understanding what the Time Lady wanted. "You want me to come with you, ma'am?"
"Sure, why not? It can get pretty boring without company." She held up a hand, ready for a high five.
Which she received. "If the colonel doesn't mind, count me in, ma'am." The young man smirked, the eyes shining.
"Professor is more than enough, Ross."
"Only after the colonel clears it, ma'am."
"Alright."
11
Dumping Donna right back home, the Professor flew Arara back to the now closed ATMOS facility, where a cuffed and humble/humiliated Luke Rattigan was awaiting his fate. After another epic lecture on the trappings of grandeur (the Professor was in the end still a Chronarch, and loved her lectures), the boy was left in the care of UNIT to atone for his crimes. Now it was time to say goodbye. Much to everyone's surprise, Jenkins got the permission to leave with the Time Lady without any resistance. "Sir, if I may ask, why?"
Mace smirked. "I had a feeling you wouldn't be able to stay here after going at her pace. And Sir Alistair may have mentioned a thing or two you could learn out there. Don't forget who or what you are, and you should be fine. Dismissed."
Ross Jenkins saluted, for what he felt would be the last time in quite a while. "Sir. It has been an honour, sir."
"The pleasure was all mine. Good luck."
At another side, an old soldier and an ageless policewoman were sharing a moment of peace. "Strange to see the young taking over."
"Not for me. Saw it too often to get surprised," the Professor admitted. "There is a reason I call politics the games of little boys who want to impress mummy dearest."
Alistair chuckled. "It never changed, did it."
"Nope. Need a lift back to camp?"
"No. They've decided I might as well just stay. They're calling the troops back too."
"Right. Take care of yourself."
"As much as the world lets me, Professor. What is the traditional farewell again? Time kind on you?"
"Close enough." Smiling gently, the Time Lady got up and bowed. "Time's hand kind on you, my friend, so history may remember you with utmost love."
"Same to you." After bowing again, he was not surprised to hear the grinding of a Time Rotor as Arara's door form (now neon again) vanished; but the small book in his hands did surprise him. "Songs of Time and Space, Volume II – Space? Thank you, Professor."
The doorbell rang, and Donna answered the door, absentmindedly noticing people still rather walking or using bikes than driving, but the tranquil mood was broken by her decidedly alien visitors who sported a pair of exasperated and confused expressions. "You would not believe the day we had," the Walker stated slowly.
"Try me, mine was pretty exciting too."
"Yeah, read that in a UNIT dispatch at Torchwood," the Doctor sighed. "I thought you wanted to spend some time with your family."
"I did, I got nagged by my mother, I ran into your mum, and then we saved the world with an old friend of yours," the ginger summarised her day. "You?"
"Mad scientist using humans as guinea pigs for a failed miracle drug based on an alien parasite, complete with Antarian princess who got engaged to Jack Harkness and Ianto Jones, and the Walker having her first Scaltatian temper tantrum," the Doctor answered tiredly.
Just then, a commotion behind Donna announced the presence of her grandfather. "Is it them? Is it then? Is it the Doctor and the Walker? Ah, it's you!" he exclaimed in surprise, recognising the pair.
"Who? Oh, it's you." The Doctor himself was just as surprised. That's a bit too much of a coincidence.
Donna however was a little confused. "What, have you met before?"
"Yeah, Christmas Eve. They disappeared right in front of me," Wilf confirmed.
"And you never said?" his granddaughter accused.
"Well, you never said. Wilf, ma'am, sir. Wilfred Mott. You must be one of them aliens."
"Yeah, but don't shout it out. Nice to meet you properly, Wilf," the Walker smiled, shaking his hand.
"Oh, another alien hand," he muttered. Shaking off his awe, he sighed. "Walker, the thing is that Donna is my only grandchild. You got to promise me you're going to take care of her."
"She takes care of us," the Walker corrected laughingly.
Wilf couldn't help but join in. "Oh yeah, that's my Donna. Yeah, she was always bossing us around when she was tiny. The Little General we used to call her."
"Yeah, don't start," Donna grumbled.
"And some of the boys she used to turn up with. Different one every week. Here, who was that one with the nail varnish?"
"Matthew Richards. He lives in Kilburn now. With a man." Donna sighed. "Give me a few you two. I need to pack my stuff."
"Sure, we'll wait in the TARDIS," the Doctor smiled, turning away. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Wilf."
"The pleasure was all mine, Doctor, Walker." He smiled as the duet left; then, he followed his granddaughter to the main room. Hearing his daughter complain again about Donna's erratic friends, he chuckled. "I won't tell her. Best not. Just keep it as our little secret, eh?"
Donna tossed a few fresh clothes into her bag. "Yeah."
"And you go with them, that wonderful Doctor and the marvellous Walker. You go and see the stars, and then bring a bit of them back for your old Gramps."
Donna smiled and nodded eagerly. "Love you," she whispered as she hugged him goodbye.
As the ginger re-entered Idris' control room, she was greeted by a pair of smiling Chronarchs. "How were they?" the Walker asked gently.
"Oh, same old stuff. They're fine." She set down her bag, and was taken aback as the Doctor put a key on a ball chain into her hand. "Is that …"
"Frequent flyer's privilege," the Time Lord smiled in confirmation. "Since you're already on universal roaming and help us flying her …" He was suddenly cut off, since Idris saw this moment to be opportune to snap her doors closed and throw her crew and passenger to the ground (or into the pilot's seat in his case), taking off on her own. "What, what?!"
"What in the name of the old nutjob …!" The Walker struggled to get back to her feet.
"I had enough of excitement for a while, Doctor! Can't you fly a little straighter?!" Donna yelled.
"No, no, no. I didn't touch anything. We're in flight, yes, but it's not me!"
"Where are we going then?!"
"I don't know. She's out of control!"
The Walker had finally managed to set her eyes on the scanner. "She's tracking something! Hold fast!"
"What do you think I'm doing?!"
AN: And review please. I really need to decide what to do with the Library …