Fanfiction Concept 2 – Counter Intelligence

After last week’s preview of The Felon of Kyntar, below I produce a slightly longer snapshot of a Third Doctor adventure set during the UNIT era. This would be the first of five adventures set in Season 8B, falling between Terror of the Autons and The Mind of Evil, and would see the Doctor and Jo travel to the United States.

As always, I love to know what you are enjoying in my writing, so do let me know by leaving a comment or sending an email.

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The scientist had been in the laboratory for over twelve hours. Had their supervisor known, she would have strongly counselled against it. She knew however how much they cared about the work, so she made sure she didn’t know how long they spent poring over the steady stream of data.

Doctor Mercer was covering the 3:00am shift. This again was another breach of protocol; you were always meant to have at least two people on duty at any given moment. It meant that, in the event that your colleague over-exerted himself (and the team was almost uniformly male) that the second scientist could raise the alarm and fetch help. But the team working at the Search for Extra Terrestrial Intelligence programme had been absorbed in their work for too long, and had no desire to observe niceties like ensuring appropriate allocation of sleep. The three man team had no desire to miss anything, which is why they staggered their four hour sleep rota so that, save for a six hour period, all three of them could be continuously working. The fact that this left Mercer all alone between 3:00am and 5:00am was felt to be a price worth paying.

Mercer knew his colleagues would not be sleeping at all comfortably. Every research centre had been a hive of excited activity since the discovery two months ago of definite traces of purposeful earth-directed waveforms. As yet none of the teams had succeeded in tracking the waveform accurately, but each team wanted to be the first to succeed. As Mercer stifled a yawn, he had to acknowledge that the odds he would be successful were not great. But you never knew, and the thought of the advance to science, to say nothing of the personal glory, provided the stimulus he needed to remain awake and vigilant.

Despite this, he still started when his monitor bleeped. Every scientist had been trained in what to look for, and knew what every signal would mean. It shouldn’t have surprised him, but their search had been fruitless for so long, that every one of them had assumed they would pick up nothing unusual, save for the odd Russian satellite. But there was no mistaking it. The monitor repeated the vibration, and Mercer focused the angle of the satellite on it. Hurriedly picking up the telephone, he said urgently: ‘You need to get down here guys. We’ve got it! We have the source!’

He pressed on the cradle to end the call, knowing his colleagues would not be slow to answer the summons, and dialled an external number. He waited for the tired voice to answer on the other side.

‘Yes Professor,’ he said quickly, ‘I know what time it is, but listen! We’ve found it! That signal everyone has been looking for! It’s coming up bright as day on my monitor …’

Mercer broke off suddenly as the door behind him burst open. He turned angrily. Even in the excitement, he expected some basic dignity from his colleagues. Still on the line, he said crossly, ‘Look here, you must …’

But he never finished the sentence. He looked aghast at the door, his mouth dropping in fearful disbelief.

‘What are you?’ he demanded, ‘Why are you here?’

On the other end of the line, Mercer was heard to cry ‘No! For pity’s sake! Have mercy!’ An awful scream rang down the phone receiver, as the unseen menace overwhelmed Mercer.

* * *

As the aeroplane landed with a bump, Jo Grant awoke with a start. She hadn’t intended to doze off, but despite her best efforts and training she found the soporific effect of air travel irresistible. Shaking her blonde curls slightly to clear her head, she looked out of the cabin window to the scene outside. When they had taken off, it was a miserable spring day in London, the city duller and greyer for the April showers. The contrast was striking, as the sunlight reflected brightly off tall skyscrapers and Jo marvelled at a city she had often heard of but never seen – New York!

A tutting noise in the seat next to her recalled her to the present. It had come from an absurd looking gentleman, dressed in a rather dandified ensemble of a frilled silk shirt, red velvet smoking jacket, and dark cotton trousers. Jo couldn’t resist a smile – her unusual friend the Doctor was even wearing the handmade shoes her boss, Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, had bought the Doctor for his one year anniversary serving as the scientific adviser to U.N.I.T. The Doctor, an extra-terrestrial being who had been left stranded on earth by his own race, had petulantly protested that he had an entire room full of shoes and that he had no desire to be reminded of “his perpetual imprisonment on this ghastly technologically backward rock.” He still wore the shoes however, showing that his bark was very much worse than his bite.

‘Two hours Jo!’ the Doctor was now complaining, ‘Two hours just to cross a measly stretch of sea!’

He shook his head, as though crossing the Atlantic in such an astonishing timescale was a grave misjustice. Jo couldn’t fathom the Doctor’s frustrations.

‘How can you say that Doctor?’ she enquired, her blue eyes bright and wide, ‘Just think, fifty years ago it would have taken two weeks to cross to New York! And if the Brigadier hadn’t chartered Concorde especially the flight would have been three times as long.’

The Doctor gave Jo a bemused glance. After a somewhat rocky start in which Jo had ruined a piece of delicate equipment and attempted to kill him (albeit under the influence of hypnosis), the Doctor had found her to be an excellent companion; she combined both an eager thirst to learn and to please with a great gap of knowledge that needed to be filled. Occasionally however, he had to remind himself how far back Jo was relative to his own centuries’ old experience.

‘I don’t deny you have taken great steps forward my dear,’ he said with a twinkle in his eye, ‘But when you consider that the TARDIS could make this journey in two seconds … well, you can perhaps understand my frustrations!’

He grimaced slightly, and stretched his limbs out, ‘To say nothing of travelling in rather more comfort than this. I really don’t know why the Brigadier insisted on flying us out so urgently from London.’

As if on cue, a tall figure stood up a few rows in front of the Doctor and Jo, and retreated along the aisle towards them. He quelled the objections of the stewardess with a calm look of command, and she sat down, defeated. Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart was used to getting his own way.

‘Welcome to New York, Doctor,’ he said with a smile, ‘We will soon be meeting our civilian liaison, a chap called Bill Filer. He will then be taking us on the establishment we will be based in for the next month or so.’

‘Good grief,’ moaned the Doctor, closing his eyes wearily, ‘Not another scientific establishment going wrong Brigadier? Do you know how many times I have encouraged your species to save itself from their own stupidity?’

The Brigadier smiled a thin-lipped, mirthless smile. Testy and unkind though the Doctor’s remarks were, he did rather have a point. In his first year as U.N.I.T’s scientific advisor, the Doctor had rescued an underground nuclear power plant from meltdown, prevented an interplanetary war at Space Command, and saved the world from a potentially world-ending volcanic eruption at a drilling site. Nonetheless, it remained grating to hear him disparage humanity with almost clockwork regularity, and frustrating that he frequently had a point.

‘In this instance Doctor,’ he replied unabashed, ‘I think you do the scientific team more than a little disservice. Are you familiar with the S.E.T.I. programme?’

The Doctor spread his hands wide with a shrug, and said ‘I’d rather say you succeeded old chap!’

While the Brigadier rolled his eyes, Jo chipped in ‘That’s the space programme in the United States searching for extra-terrestrial intelligence isn’t it sir?’

‘That’s precisely correct,’ the Brigadier replied with a nod. ‘We’ve been keeping a careful eye on their research; feeding the public the message that not much is showing up, while filing away anything potentially useful. Not that it has done us much good,’ he added bitterly, ‘They didn’t spot the Cybermen coming until they were right on top of us.’

‘Give it a few centuries Brigadier,’ replied the Doctor coolly, ‘Your technology will catch up.’

Ignoring this, the Brigadier continued ‘We are here at the central base in New York because … well … there’s something rather odd going on.’

The aircraft had ground to a halt, and almost immediately the front doors were opened. Clearly the Brigadier had used his high level clearance to secure a prompt exit from the vehicle. Captain Mike Yates, the Brigadier’s second in command, was already making his way through the door, accompanied by two soldiers. Looking to the rear of the cabin, he could see Sergeant Benton with the rest of the squad. He knew Bill Filer wasn’t pleased that he was bringing his own troops, but given the circumstances he heeded the Brigadier’s warning that they needed the experience of troops who had faced unexplained phenomena.

The Brigadier made to leave the craft, and the Doctor and Jo fell in behind him. They stepped out into a crisp spring morning, and gladly breathed in the relatively fresh air at the airport. Three cars waited at the bottom; the first clearly for the Brigadier and his staff, and the other two for the U.N.I.T. troops. A gentleman in a rather shabby suit was waiting for them at the foot of the steps. He grabbed the Brigadier’s hand with a vice-like grip.

‘Bill Filer,’ he said shortly, with a nod of the head that was half respect and half a reminder that the Brigadier was on his territory, ‘Welcome to the United States Brigadier.’ Glancing over his shoulder, he asked ‘these are your staff team?’

‘Yes,’ replied the Brigadier, retrieving his hand, and using all of his soldierly professionalism to hide his urge to massage his hand, ‘This is Miss Jo Grant, of our scientific establishment.’

He concealed a smile as Filer took in Jo Grant. Jo was pretty, vivacious, and naturally likeable, and had a talent for warming even the most frosty of countenances. Filer tried and failed to suppress a shy grin.

‘Mighty fine to meet you Miss Grant,’ he said, ‘Have you been to New York before?’

‘No,’ Jo gushed, ‘This is my first time. My uncle spends a lot of time here at the U.N. but he never quite got around to inviting me over. I’d love to see the sights!’

‘Well,’ said Filer, forgetting his professionalism for one moment, ‘I am sure we could arrange that while you are over …’

A not very discreet cough from the Doctor reminded Filer that there was one person yet to be introduced. The momentary thaw in Filer’s expression quickly frosted over again.

‘Oh yeah. Who’s this guy?’ he asked suspiciously.

‘This, Mr Filer, is U.N.I.T.’s scientific advisor, the Doctor.’

The Doctor smiled gregariously, and extending his hand said ‘I’m enchanted to meet you Mr Filer. Thank you for your welcome.’

The Brigadier was delighted to see that Filer attempted to use his vice-like grip on the Doctor, and frowned in astonishment when it failed to gain purchase.

‘Doctor?’ said Filer, ‘Yeah I remember. The one you said had no passport. You got any idea the grief that’s caused me with our State Department Brigadier?’

‘I am very familiar with your State Department’s requirements Mr Filer,’ said the Brigadier, courtesy disguising his impatience, ‘But as I reminded you, the Doctor possesses a fully-certified U.N.I.T. travel authorisation, which entitles him to travel anywhere in the world on U.N.I.T. business. Moreover,’ he added quickly, seeing the stubborn aggression in Filer’s eyes, and the obvious contempt in the Doctor’s, ‘I think you would be ill advised to force the Doctor back unto this aircraft. His experience his proven invaluable in the past, and you lose nothing by consulting him.’

Filer scowled. It was clear he was unimpressed, but he did not press the point.

‘If you would follow me then Brigadier, we can deliver the briefing in the car. Saves time.’

The party crossed promptly to the lead vehicle, Jo noting with interest how much larger American cars were compared to the ones she was used to in London. In seconds they were speeding away from the airport down what Filer described as a ‘freeway’, which Jo eventually understood to be a major road.

‘Here are the facts Brigadier,’ Filer began, withdrawing a folder from his briefcase and placing it into the Brigadier’s hand. ‘At the beginning of this year our scientists recorded definite evidence of purposeful extra-terrestrial communication.’

‘Yes, I know,’ replied the Brigadier, beginning to leaf through the folder, ‘I do read the reports that land on my desk you know.’

Filer disregarded the implied rebuke.

‘As you know, we keep U.N.I.T. well informed of all developments with the programme, for very obvious reasons – you guys have past form. Anyway, since that time we had little success managing to latch unto the signal again. All of our teams have been working around-the-clock shifts, but not a single space sneeze.’

Pausing to take a deep breath, Filer went on. ‘That is until last week. One week ago one of our stations in California reported that they’d tracked down the signal.’

Jo became conscious of the Doctor sitting up slightly straighter than before. It was a very subtle movement, but she knew that something had deeply caught his attention.

‘You say they tracked the signal?’ the Doctor asked sharply.

‘Yes,’ replied Filer indifferently, ‘All of our stations have been combing the atmosphere for this signal as a matter of top priority, so it was only a matter of time before one of them tracked the signal again.’

The Doctor stroked his upper lip thoughtfully. ‘That’s certainly one way of looking at it.’

Filer gave him a sharp look. Sensing an unnecessary diversion from the topic at hand, the Brigadier spoke hurriedly.

‘They found the signal Filer? I didn’t receive any word of that, and under our standing orders …’

‘… we should report it directly,’ Filer finished. ‘I know, Brigadier. We never had the chance to report it. Shortly after the team telephoned our New York headquarters to report their success … well …’

For a moment it seemed words had failed the intelligence agent. Jo, breathless with interest asked ‘Did something happen?’

Filer nodded glumly. ‘We don’t know quite what happened. The call was cut off. We have no recording of it, but I understand from the person who took the call that what was heard was … not pleasant.’

He shivered. ‘We sent out local law enforcement as soon as the alarm was raised. The station was a mess, completely ransacked.’

The Brigadier had been systematically working through the file, and he caught his breath as one item seized his attention.

‘I can’t be reading this right,’ he said aloud, ‘They broke through a three foot concrete wall?’

‘That’s not the half of it,’ Filer replied, ‘The laboratory had the kind of damage you would associate with heavy machinery. But aside of the hole in the perimeter wall there were no other signs of entry; so we know it couldn’t be heavy machinery.’

The Doctor’s eyes were scrutinising Filer keenly. The dismissive attitude of barely ten minutes ago had all but vanished, and his face was sharp with attention.