Doctor Who’s Nightmares - Prologue - The Shadow Warriors 1/7
Title: Doctor Who’s Nightmares - Prologue - The Shadow Warriors 1/7
Characters: Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones, The Doctor (10), OFC, Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, Benton
Parings: Jack/Ianto (very mild Ianto/OFC)
Disclaimer: Neither Torchwood or Doctor Who are mine
Summary: The Doctor is called in when unknown aliens start killing at Newcastle Airport
Spoilers: After the events of ‘Children of Earth’, but not obviously referenced (sequel to fix-it fic)
Rating: PG-13
Warning: A lot of alcohol
A/N: This is a sequel to Doctor Who and the Cathedral of Light, and will make much more sense if it’s read.
A cold wind swept across the tarmac of Newcastle’s international airport as a Boeing 737’s wheels slammed into the rain-streaked runway. Flight 101 from Cyprus began to slow as the reverse thrusters, screaming as if in pain, came into operation. Continually slowing, flight 101 passed a smaller, lighter plane filled with fat drunken businessmen preparing for their return trip to London. Feeling more than a little worse for wear after their night out on Newcastle’s Quayside, one after the other, they staggered onto the plane.
The group had spent the previous day making money for themselves and their company, and after a night of drunkenness and debauchery, had ended up at the Copthorne hotel in varying degrees of disorder. Now they were ready to return to London, their wives and families and their real life, but fate had other plans.
The first man died almost immediately. The energy signature of the weapon that was fired could be heard across the vast expanse of the airport despite the constant landing and taking off of jet engine planes. A bloody hole was punched right through his stomach throwing him across the tarmac to land like a discarded rag doll at the feet of a customs officer, confiscated bag in hand. The duty free bag, filled with cigarettes and whiskey, hit the tarmac and shattered as a second bolt of electricity removed his head, throwing him unceremoniously to the ground in a fountain of crimson.
A loud tearing noise, which blotted out the sound of screaming coming from the other perspective passengers, ripped through the night as, one after another, dark figures emerged from out of nowhere, small electrical pulse charges dropping anyone they came across. The businessmen tried to run, but the previous night’s misdeeds caught up with them in spades.
One solitary soul, a picture of his wife and two children clutched in his right hand, cowered guiltily in the back of the plane crying and praying for forgiveness. He told the God in he didn’t believe in that he was sorry for what he had done. He cried out to Him that the prostitute had meant nothing to him and if he got out of this alive he would never do anything like it again. His lamentations were cut short as the plane’s fuel tanks in both wings ignited, killing him instantly.
This was the twenty first century and everything was going to change and it seemed no one was ready.
***
Flights were cancelled and the airport was on lock down, as the senior controller paced about his office, mobile phone gripped in a shaking hand.
‘No don’t put me on hold again… no… no… you bastards!’ Seconds later he heard a click on the line and a calm, female voice announced,
‘UNIT HQ Geneva how may we help you?’ The controller was incensed,
‘UNIT… who the hell’s UNIT? I want the police, the army… the home guard… I want the fire brigade, the RLNI, the bastard Women’s Royal Volunteer Service and I want Gordon Brown, on a donkey, wearing someone else’s bullet-proof vest and sporting a bastard anti tank bazooka… and I want them now!’ The calm voice still remained calm.
‘We are the Unified Intelligence Taskforce and have been operating since 1968. Our motto is ‘Any threat, any location, protecting humanity no matter how far it takes us.’ Do you have an un-territorial incursion?’
‘Do I have a what?’
‘Do you have problems with extra terrestrial combatants?’ Despite the aggression the controller was demonstrating, the UNIT voice remained calm and controlled.
‘I’ve got little black men shooting the shit out of anything that moves, with ray guns…that’s what I’ve got and all you can do is keep me talking with stupid-’ The controller stopped speaking when he heard the sound of helicopters landing in the airport car park.
UNIT helicopters dropped soldiers, vehicles and heavy weaponry in the car park on the opposite side of the main building as members of the public, suitcases discarded, ran fleeing from the carnage that was taking place behind them.
The Brigadier organised the local Police and armed forces to extract as many civilians as they could, while they headed for, what appeared to be yet another rift, a tear in the fabric of space and time.
Armed with fifty cal machineguns mounted on the back of 110 jeeps, the UNIT soldiers skirted the out buildings and immediately ran into the attackers. Dark shadows that moved independently of the things that cast them fired bolts of electrical energy decimating anything that stood in their way.
‘We have a contact Brigadier. Do we have the order to open fire?’ Regimental Sergeant Major Benton shouted into his field radio as electronic bolts of energy exploded all around him.
‘Yes man, take them out with as much force as you need.’ The Brigadier replied as he circled the airport from the opposite direction his team more than ready to meet whatever came at them, pushed towards them by Benton and his attack force.
Benton’s Jeep was the first to take a direct hit, throwing it over onto its side in a flash of electrical power and scraping metal. Using the upturned vehicle as cover Benton stood next to the fifty cal machine gun and, activating the cloaking device on his wrist, laid down such a devastating field of fire it almost disintegrated two shadow warriors before they could return fire on his position.
As the shadow warriors retreated under the barrage of lead that hammered down around them, the Brigadier approached from the rear. ‘Steady boys, hold your fire.’ Brigadier Sir Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart said over the net communication system, which buzzed, annoyingly in his ear. Despite his youthful appearance he felt tired. The Doctor had been right; he was still an eighty-year-old man in a twenty-year-old body.
UNIT had welcomed back Benton and himself with open arms. His field experience counted for everything and not too many questions were asked regarding his appearance or the bracelet that both he and Benton wore constantly on their wrists. They had been unable to remove them for fear of returning to the old men that they once were. The Sontaran’s had cloned them both in the hope that they could use their bodies and learned experiences of war, to fight and destroy the Rutan Host once and for all.
Their plan had failed, in some part due to the Doctor’s nifty footwork, with the help of Captain Jack Harkness and Ianto Jones, members of Torchwood. After the Doctor had destroyed a weapon that they had planned to ignite the atmosphere with, he had transported them back to UNIT in the TARDIS. Back at UNIT headquarters in the United Nations building in Geneva, they took up their previous rolls, with Benton more enthusiastic than the Brigadier, to get his newly formed teeth into whatever was out there.
‘As soon as we open fire I want tactical support given to Sergeant Major Benton and his team.’ The Brigadier could clearly hear the distinctive sound of Heckler and Koch 9mm MP5’s, joined by .50 calibre heavy machines guns tearing into the night. ‘What’s he playing at..? Thinks he’s a young pup or something. Chap’s nearly seventy years old…’
The Brigadier held up a hand, noticing the shadows that detached themselves from buildings and advanced on their position, energy bolts firing the way they had come, as if in full retreat. ‘Right chaps, on my order.’ The Brigadier stood so that all could see him. ‘Fire!’ Three M2 Browning .50 calibre machine guns opened up tearing into the Shadow Warrior’s flank. They died without a sound as hot led ripped into them in a green haze of fluid and ruptured internal organs.
‘Jenkins! Shadowy chap on the left… five rounds rapid.’ The Brigadier felt the adrenalin rush through his body as he bellowed out order after order. He was back. When the smoke cleared there wasn’t a single attacker left in one piece, let alone alive.
‘Do you know, this is the first time I’ve come across an alien menace that isn’t immune to bullets,’ the Brigadier said with a smile devoid of humour. ‘Right men bring in the boffins. I want this area cordoned off and an incident room set up.’ The Brigadier looked around, worry showing clearly on his youthful face. Only his eyes told of his age, which hung heavily on him.
‘Sergeant Major Benton, where the hell are you man?’ he shouted into his net communicator.
Benton casually walked forward and then realised the Brigadier couldn’t see him. De-activating the cloaking device on his wrist he materialised directly in front of him. The Brigadier, instead of looking shocked at Benton’s unexpected appearance, looked stern, perhaps a little angry, Benton thought.
‘Benton, stop playing around and get to work man.’ Gesturing to Benton’s wrist he waved his newly acquired swagger stick. ‘Get hold of our illustrious scientific advisor, if you can, and get him down here on the double. I want to know what he makes of this mess.’ Benton nodded and then looked a little dumbfounded.
‘Isn’t he away Sir, in the you know what, doing…you know what?’ The Brigadier shook his head as if in bewilderment.
‘Stop babbling man and get on with it. I want a protective cordon around the point of entry and search teams put together in case we missed anything.’ Benton nodded. ‘And Benton…’
‘Yes Sir?’
‘Grow up man. That was a perfectly good jeep you wrecked. If you can’t act your own age… act someone else’s.’
***
Hendon stretched out before her, a stereotypical, graffiti-covered, working-class residential area, as bleak and shabby as any North East housing estate. The small shopping centre stood out in the middle of the crime-decayed squalor defacing the landscape between Sunderland and the once vibrant dock.
Proprietors had long since been forced out, tired of the fight against shoplifting, racist abuse and the wanton damage that had plagued their existence. Some shops still stood, black encrusted, boarded with steel shutters, keeping out the addicts that looked for a place, away from prying eyes, to shoot up. Louise Ruth shook her head in wonderment as they walked down the street away from the municipal library.
Ianto and Jack walked side by side into the crime-infested decay that passed as a community with what looked to Louise Ruth like the arrogance of the misinformed. She couldn’t believe that only twenty-four hours ago she had been on another planet, but the headache still throbbed behind her eyes to remind her.
***
The Doctor had promised her adventure on far and distant worlds but Chives 2 was more than she could have possibly expected. The atmosphere had been twenty two percent alcohol and just breathing had made her unsteady on her feet.
The scenery, from what she could remember, was incredibly breathtaking and the local’s hospitality had been unbelievable. Everything was soaked in alcohol, the food, the blankets, the clothing, the water, everything. The Doctor eventually had to drag her away after, virtually kicking and screaming.
Returning from a brief expedition into the mountains he’d found her singing a song about hedgehogs, while demonstrating how sober she was by trying to stand on one leg and touch the tip of her nose with both index fingers.
‘No Doctor…I can do it…watch.’ After Louise Ruth hit the ground for the fourth time, the Doctor took hold of her and led her back to the TARDIS.
‘How much did you have to drink?’ The Doctor quizzed her as he managed to manhandle her through the double doors.
‘Not a single drop… whoo… it’s big in here you know.’ She then broke into a fit of giggles as she kept repeating the word ‘big’ and elbowing him in, what he assumed was intended to be, a suggestive manner. He did his best to ignore this, leading her across the control room out the opposite doorway.
Stopping their progress, Louise Ruth grabbed hold of the Doctor’s tan coloured coat. ‘Huston… I think we have a problem… the room’s moving but the plastic thing in the centre isn’t.’ The Doctor put his arm around her shoulder and led her towards her bedroom.
Stopping a second time, Louise Ruth smiled at the Doctor. ‘You know I’ve always loved you Doctor,’ she said slurring her words as she spoke. Turning she went to hug him and then vomited all over his overcoat. Without a word of protest, the Doctor managed to get her inside her bedroom where she stood unsure and unsupported.
‘I feel so much better now.’ Was the last thing she said before she fell backward onto the bed, unconscious. Shaking his head, the Doctor removed his coat and left her room.
‘Janice Joplin gave me this coat,’ was all he said, the sadness clear in his voice. Entering the control room, a flashing red light burst into life on his consol informing him that there was a message from the Brigadier waiting for him.
***
As they strode through Hendon, Louise Ruth, being careful not to move her head too quickly, realised that it had only been forty years earlier that this place had been bustling with life. It’s new style, low-budget, Council housing was festooned with grime-encrusted concrete set up by a Labour Council that heralded the red flag of communism while lining their own pockets with anything and everything they could get their hands on. Builders and architects, who now spent time at her, ‘Majesties pleasure,’ turned their backs on the town that closed down quicker than the Sunderland ship yards, watching it going down hill along with its residence.
The warren of rubbish-strewn passages and alleyways that gave access to the foreboding residential areas, were heavy with the stench of urine and encrusted filth. Louise Ruth walked closely behind the trio, the Doctor waving his sonic screwdriver around as if it were a cheerleader’s baton. The darkness had closed in hiding the majority of sins that ran havoc in the night.
Walking passed a shuttered shop advertising ‘Lincoln’s Fisheries, Traditional Fish and Chips, Louise Ruth’s stomach began to rumble. She could just force down a carton of chips with curry sauce about now, everyone knew greasy food was the best for hangovers. As she continued she swore she could smell the batter hanging heavy in the air.
Crossing the road at Hendon Discount Store, the group walked on in silence, ears pricked up for the slightest sound or approaching harm. In stark contrast, one building surrounded by metal fencing, looked clean, new and unmolested. Smiling she realised that it was the local Primary School adorned with the slogan “Share Our vision, Success For All.” Louise Ruth nearly laughed at the thought. The evidence of the council’s lack of vision assaulted the eyes in every direction. How could they sell that crap to a public that lines their garden walls with broken glass, barbed wire and metal spikes to keep their friends out? She thought bitterly.
***
Returning to Earth, the Doctor had immediately transported them back to the North East of England, of all places, ready to help the Brigadier. Moving from one corpse to the other, the Doctor’s sonic screwdriver buzzing as he went, his smile, which had always been prominent, slowly left his face.
Louise looked on; effervescent Paracetamol fizzing in a glass next to her and an ice pack on her forehead. She could hardly concentrate on the speed the Doctor spoke.
‘They’re known as Shadow Warriors, Brigadier. Genetically modified human beings. Their lifespan is minimal to say the least… one, maybe two hours at best.’ The Brigadier, hanging on the Doctor’s every word, followed him from gurney to gurney with Sergeant Benton in tow.
‘They’re taken from their planet of origin, modified and frozen. When they’re needed they are removed from their containment unit and programmed for a specific mission. They can’t feel, think beyond their initial programming and they can’t be reasoned with. Nothing short of decimation can stop them carrying out their given task.’
‘But… what did they want… other than to cause havoc?’ The Brigadier asked as the Doctor took one look at Louise Ruth and shook his head. Without a word he headed out of the hanger, the Brigadier and Benton following.
‘Show me, Brigadier, where they came through.’ Gesturing with his swagger stick the Brigadier motioned the Doctor to an area surrounded by metal poles and bright blue police tape.
‘Right about here Doctor… so eye witnesses tell us… and there’s very few of them.’ Removing his sonic screwdriver, the Doctor ran around the area, a comic figure in a blue suit and red Converse trainers. No one laughed. Not even Benton as he organised a team of UNIT soldiers to stand guard around the Shadow Warriors’ entrance sight.
‘The good news, Brigadier, is that it’s not a rift… so to speak.’ The Brigadier sighed with relief that was short lived.
‘Then what is it Doctor?’ Moving away from the cordoned off area the Doctor followed an invisible signal emanating from the sonic screwdriver in his hand.
‘It was a scar in time and space, opened up by a traveller hell bent on moving a number of soldiers through, all at once. The bad news is, Brigadier, they were a red herring, a diversion.’
‘A what…?’ Benton asked, trying to follow the Doctor’s rationalization.
Removing a set of keys from the Brigadier’s pocket the Doctor waved them in front of Benton’s face. As his gaze followed the keys the Doctor hit him over the head with his other hand, which had been out of sight.
‘A diversion, Brigadier, to move your attention from one thing while they did something completely different.’
Benton rubbed the back of his head, looking surprised at the Doctor’s actions. Ignoring Benton, the Doctor turned back to the Brigadier and, throwing him his keys, continued.
‘The Shadow Warrior’s one and only task was to engage UNIT soldiers while the real perpetrators sneaked passed… probably out of the scar, heading in the opposite direction.’
The Doctor looked down at the sonic screwdriver and shook his head. Something was wrong with his hypothesis and he knew it. Only the Shadow Warriors had come through the scar. Nothing else could have survived the trip. The amounts of radiation needed to transport something by that method would eventual kill anything that made the trip… not a problem with the Shadow Warriors. They hadn’t the ability to live long enough to feel the effects.
Despite his misgivings he decided to keep the information to himself. No point in winding the Brigadier up and setting him off in a specific direction. His shoot first and ask questions later approach to extra terrestrial diplomacy was well documented after all.
***
Jack Harkness, late of Torchwood Three, Cardiff, immediately confronted the Doctor on his return to the hanger.
‘Doctor, what a pleasure to see you again. How’s Louise Ruth?’ The Doctor ignored Jack’s outstretched arms and looked at him quizzical.
‘What are you doing here…? I thought you were back with the Time Agency.’ The Doctor motioned towards Jack’s wrist, the vortex manipulator’s leather strap snug on his arm. Jack patted his arm and smiled.
‘I got a call that our friend from the tower was back. Apparently up to his usual tricks. Besides… we can’t go back to Cardiff… too many people to explain too many things to.’ Jack turned to look at the shrouded bodies and shook his head. ‘Shadow Warriors, if I’m not mistaken. Kept on ice until they’re needed… I know how they feel. What are they doing here Doc? I mean they’re not supposed to be in this part of the galaxy.’
‘I don’t think they knew that Jack,’ The Doctor said as he turned, noticing that Louise Ruth was now a lot more animated than she had been before. Ianto Jones, also from Torchwood Three, stood next to her, a carton of Costa Coffee steaming in both hands.
‘Triple shot espresso, no milk, no sugar… to go. That should sort you out. Sorry it’s not Nero’s… it’s all the airport had. At least it isn’t Starbucks.’ Ianto said in his soft Welsh accent. Louise Ruth smiled up at him; it was always good to see a friendly face when she had a hangover.
‘How do you feel about time and space travel then?’ Ianto handed her a carton of coffee. Louise took hers gratefully and sipped, not taking her eyes off Ianto for an instant.
‘Terrible, I’m seeing a psychiatrist … in fact I’m seeing two… I think I need my eyes testing.’ Ianto laughed as he took a tentative sip from his own carton.
‘You might have competition there, Jack,’ the Doctor said with a smile. Jack turned, looking at Louise and Ianto, realising that the Doctor was trying to distract him from the problem at hand but Jack wasn’t having any of it.
‘There’s more out there, and you know it. We’re getting multiple signals heading from Newcastle towards the coast.’ The Doctor nodded,
‘I suspected as much.’ The Doctor bent his head forward in thought, tapping the sonic screwdriver against his forehead as he walked.
‘Jack’s found more of them in a town not far from here. I think he’s wanting to go after them,’ Ianto said in a whisper so Jack wouldn’t hear. Louise slowly shook her head as she thought.
‘These Shadow Warriors are just drones aren’t they?’ Ianto nodded then took a sip from his carton of coffee, wondering where Louise Ruth was heading. ‘If you wanted to hide something from me you’d lead me away from it wouldn’t you?’ Again Ianto nodded then abruptly stopped.
‘He’s using the Warriors to distract us. Lead us away from what he deems as important.’ Turning Ianto realised that the Doctor and Jack were both listening to his conversation with Louise Ruth.
‘Louise Ruth’s right… I say we leave the Brigadier and his men here and get a UNIT transport and track them down. For something needing stealth they leave a footprint like a Sasquatch,’ Jack added, his gaze shifting from Ianto and Louise back to his vortex manipulator on his wrist. The Doctor nodded at the Brigadier.
‘They are the more immediate threat Brigadier.’ The Brigadier turned towards Benton, who was looking at his Sontaran bracelet.
‘Sergeant Major Benton, pick up a 110 and track these things down… and… stop playing with that bracelet thing. You don’t know what effects it may have.’ Benton came to attention and, saluting, headed off towards a second hanger where their vehicles were parked.
‘Look after yourself Brigadier. If it’s still here it has more tricks up its sleeve… if it has sleeves,’ Jack added with a smile as the group followed Benton.
Turning towards the Doctor, Jack couldn’t help smiling. ‘Nice suit but I thought for this kind of weather you’d wear that tan coat, the one you were given by Janice Joplin…’ Jack stopped talking, noticing Louise Ruth quickly shaking her head and making a slashing gesture across her throat with her right hand.
As the Doctor strode off ahead Louise Ruth whispered, ‘Don’t mention the coat. Someone had too much, err…air… on Chives 2…and was sick on it.’
Jack turned back to face the way he was walking a smile spreading across his face. ‘Louise Ruth… you didn’t.’ He added as he watched the Doctor walking in front of him. The blue suit, the converse trainers and those tight buns, he thought with a smile. He reminded himself to buy Louise Ruth a drink the next time he had the opportunity. Perhaps he could get more than the coat off him.
Hendon, Ready or Not 2/7
Characters: Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones, The Doctor (10), OFC, Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, Benton
Parings: Jack/Ianto (very mild Ianto/OFC)
Disclaimer: Neither Torchwood or Doctor Who are mine
Summary: The Doctor is called in when unknown aliens start killing at Newcastle Airport
Spoilers: After the events of ‘Children of Earth’, but not obviously referenced (sequel to fix-it fic)
Rating: PG-13
Warning: A lot of alcohol
A/N: This is a sequel to Doctor Who and the Cathedral of Light, and will make much more sense if it’s read.
A cold wind swept across the tarmac of Newcastle’s international airport as a Boeing 737’s wheels slammed into the rain-streaked runway. Flight 101 from Cyprus began to slow as the reverse thrusters, screaming as if in pain, came into operation. Continually slowing, flight 101 passed a smaller, lighter plane filled with fat drunken businessmen preparing for their return trip to London. Feeling more than a little worse for wear after their night out on Newcastle’s Quayside, one after the other, they staggered onto the plane.
The group had spent the previous day making money for themselves and their company, and after a night of drunkenness and debauchery, had ended up at the Copthorne hotel in varying degrees of disorder. Now they were ready to return to London, their wives and families and their real life, but fate had other plans.
The first man died almost immediately. The energy signature of the weapon that was fired could be heard across the vast expanse of the airport despite the constant landing and taking off of jet engine planes. A bloody hole was punched right through his stomach throwing him across the tarmac to land like a discarded rag doll at the feet of a customs officer, confiscated bag in hand. The duty free bag, filled with cigarettes and whiskey, hit the tarmac and shattered as a second bolt of electricity removed his head, throwing him unceremoniously to the ground in a fountain of crimson.
A loud tearing noise, which blotted out the sound of screaming coming from the other perspective passengers, ripped through the night as, one after another, dark figures emerged from out of nowhere, small electrical pulse charges dropping anyone they came across. The businessmen tried to run, but the previous night’s misdeeds caught up with them in spades.
One solitary soul, a picture of his wife and two children clutched in his right hand, cowered guiltily in the back of the plane crying and praying for forgiveness. He told the God in he didn’t believe in that he was sorry for what he had done. He cried out to Him that the prostitute had meant nothing to him and if he got out of this alive he would never do anything like it again. His lamentations were cut short as the plane’s fuel tanks in both wings ignited, killing him instantly.
This was the twenty first century and everything was going to change and it seemed no one was ready.
***
Flights were cancelled and the airport was on lock down, as the senior controller paced about his office, mobile phone gripped in a shaking hand.
‘No don’t put me on hold again… no… no… you bastards!’ Seconds later he heard a click on the line and a calm, female voice announced,
‘UNIT HQ Geneva how may we help you?’ The controller was incensed,
‘UNIT… who the hell’s UNIT? I want the police, the army… the home guard… I want the fire brigade, the RLNI, the bastard Women’s Royal Volunteer Service and I want Gordon Brown, on a donkey, wearing someone else’s bullet-proof vest and sporting a bastard anti tank bazooka… and I want them now!’ The calm voice still remained calm.
‘We are the Unified Intelligence Taskforce and have been operating since 1968. Our motto is ‘Any threat, any location, protecting humanity no matter how far it takes us.’ Do you have an un-territorial incursion?’
‘Do I have a what?’
‘Do you have problems with extra terrestrial combatants?’ Despite the aggression the controller was demonstrating, the UNIT voice remained calm and controlled.
‘I’ve got little black men shooting the shit out of anything that moves, with ray guns…that’s what I’ve got and all you can do is keep me talking with stupid-’ The controller stopped speaking when he heard the sound of helicopters landing in the airport car park.
UNIT helicopters dropped soldiers, vehicles and heavy weaponry in the car park on the opposite side of the main building as members of the public, suitcases discarded, ran fleeing from the carnage that was taking place behind them.
The Brigadier organised the local Police and armed forces to extract as many civilians as they could, while they headed for, what appeared to be yet another rift, a tear in the fabric of space and time.
Armed with fifty cal machineguns mounted on the back of 110 jeeps, the UNIT soldiers skirted the out buildings and immediately ran into the attackers. Dark shadows that moved independently of the things that cast them fired bolts of electrical energy decimating anything that stood in their way.
‘We have a contact Brigadier. Do we have the order to open fire?’ Regimental Sergeant Major Benton shouted into his field radio as electronic bolts of energy exploded all around him.
‘Yes man, take them out with as much force as you need.’ The Brigadier replied as he circled the airport from the opposite direction his team more than ready to meet whatever came at them, pushed towards them by Benton and his attack force.
Benton’s Jeep was the first to take a direct hit, throwing it over onto its side in a flash of electrical power and scraping metal. Using the upturned vehicle as cover Benton stood next to the fifty cal machine gun and, activating the cloaking device on his wrist, laid down such a devastating field of fire it almost disintegrated two shadow warriors before they could return fire on his position.
As the shadow warriors retreated under the barrage of lead that hammered down around them, the Brigadier approached from the rear. ‘Steady boys, hold your fire.’ Brigadier Sir Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart said over the net communication system, which buzzed, annoyingly in his ear. Despite his youthful appearance he felt tired. The Doctor had been right; he was still an eighty-year-old man in a twenty-year-old body.
UNIT had welcomed back Benton and himself with open arms. His field experience counted for everything and not too many questions were asked regarding his appearance or the bracelet that both he and Benton wore constantly on their wrists. They had been unable to remove them for fear of returning to the old men that they once were. The Sontaran’s had cloned them both in the hope that they could use their bodies and learned experiences of war, to fight and destroy the Rutan Host once and for all.
Their plan had failed, in some part due to the Doctor’s nifty footwork, with the help of Captain Jack Harkness and Ianto Jones, members of Torchwood. After the Doctor had destroyed a weapon that they had planned to ignite the atmosphere with, he had transported them back to UNIT in the TARDIS. Back at UNIT headquarters in the United Nations building in Geneva, they took up their previous rolls, with Benton more enthusiastic than the Brigadier, to get his newly formed teeth into whatever was out there.
‘As soon as we open fire I want tactical support given to Sergeant Major Benton and his team.’ The Brigadier could clearly hear the distinctive sound of Heckler and Koch 9mm MP5’s, joined by .50 calibre heavy machines guns tearing into the night. ‘What’s he playing at..? Thinks he’s a young pup or something. Chap’s nearly seventy years old…’
The Brigadier held up a hand, noticing the shadows that detached themselves from buildings and advanced on their position, energy bolts firing the way they had come, as if in full retreat. ‘Right chaps, on my order.’ The Brigadier stood so that all could see him. ‘Fire!’ Three M2 Browning .50 calibre machine guns opened up tearing into the Shadow Warrior’s flank. They died without a sound as hot led ripped into them in a green haze of fluid and ruptured internal organs.
‘Jenkins! Shadowy chap on the left… five rounds rapid.’ The Brigadier felt the adrenalin rush through his body as he bellowed out order after order. He was back. When the smoke cleared there wasn’t a single attacker left in one piece, let alone alive.
‘Do you know, this is the first time I’ve come across an alien menace that isn’t immune to bullets,’ the Brigadier said with a smile devoid of humour. ‘Right men bring in the boffins. I want this area cordoned off and an incident room set up.’ The Brigadier looked around, worry showing clearly on his youthful face. Only his eyes told of his age, which hung heavily on him.
‘Sergeant Major Benton, where the hell are you man?’ he shouted into his net communicator.
Benton casually walked forward and then realised the Brigadier couldn’t see him. De-activating the cloaking device on his wrist he materialised directly in front of him. The Brigadier, instead of looking shocked at Benton’s unexpected appearance, looked stern, perhaps a little angry, Benton thought.
‘Benton, stop playing around and get to work man.’ Gesturing to Benton’s wrist he waved his newly acquired swagger stick. ‘Get hold of our illustrious scientific advisor, if you can, and get him down here on the double. I want to know what he makes of this mess.’ Benton nodded and then looked a little dumbfounded.
‘Isn’t he away Sir, in the you know what, doing…you know what?’ The Brigadier shook his head as if in bewilderment.
‘Stop babbling man and get on with it. I want a protective cordon around the point of entry and search teams put together in case we missed anything.’ Benton nodded. ‘And Benton…’
‘Yes Sir?’
‘Grow up man. That was a perfectly good jeep you wrecked. If you can’t act your own age… act someone else’s.’
***
Hendon stretched out before her, a stereotypical, graffiti-covered, working-class residential area, as bleak and shabby as any North East housing estate. The small shopping centre stood out in the middle of the crime-decayed squalor defacing the landscape between Sunderland and the once vibrant dock.
Proprietors had long since been forced out, tired of the fight against shoplifting, racist abuse and the wanton damage that had plagued their existence. Some shops still stood, black encrusted, boarded with steel shutters, keeping out the addicts that looked for a place, away from prying eyes, to shoot up. Louise Ruth shook her head in wonderment as they walked down the street away from the municipal library.
Ianto and Jack walked side by side into the crime-infested decay that passed as a community with what looked to Louise Ruth like the arrogance of the misinformed. She couldn’t believe that only twenty-four hours ago she had been on another planet, but the headache still throbbed behind her eyes to remind her.
***
The Doctor had promised her adventure on far and distant worlds but Chives 2 was more than she could have possibly expected. The atmosphere had been twenty two percent alcohol and just breathing had made her unsteady on her feet.
The scenery, from what she could remember, was incredibly breathtaking and the local’s hospitality had been unbelievable. Everything was soaked in alcohol, the food, the blankets, the clothing, the water, everything. The Doctor eventually had to drag her away after, virtually kicking and screaming.
Returning from a brief expedition into the mountains he’d found her singing a song about hedgehogs, while demonstrating how sober she was by trying to stand on one leg and touch the tip of her nose with both index fingers.
‘No Doctor…I can do it…watch.’ After Louise Ruth hit the ground for the fourth time, the Doctor took hold of her and led her back to the TARDIS.
‘How much did you have to drink?’ The Doctor quizzed her as he managed to manhandle her through the double doors.
‘Not a single drop… whoo… it’s big in here you know.’ She then broke into a fit of giggles as she kept repeating the word ‘big’ and elbowing him in, what he assumed was intended to be, a suggestive manner. He did his best to ignore this, leading her across the control room out the opposite doorway.
Stopping their progress, Louise Ruth grabbed hold of the Doctor’s tan coloured coat. ‘Huston… I think we have a problem… the room’s moving but the plastic thing in the centre isn’t.’ The Doctor put his arm around her shoulder and led her towards her bedroom.
Stopping a second time, Louise Ruth smiled at the Doctor. ‘You know I’ve always loved you Doctor,’ she said slurring her words as she spoke. Turning she went to hug him and then vomited all over his overcoat. Without a word of protest, the Doctor managed to get her inside her bedroom where she stood unsure and unsupported.
‘I feel so much better now.’ Was the last thing she said before she fell backward onto the bed, unconscious. Shaking his head, the Doctor removed his coat and left her room.
‘Janice Joplin gave me this coat,’ was all he said, the sadness clear in his voice. Entering the control room, a flashing red light burst into life on his consol informing him that there was a message from the Brigadier waiting for him.
***
As they strode through Hendon, Louise Ruth, being careful not to move her head too quickly, realised that it had only been forty years earlier that this place had been bustling with life. It’s new style, low-budget, Council housing was festooned with grime-encrusted concrete set up by a Labour Council that heralded the red flag of communism while lining their own pockets with anything and everything they could get their hands on. Builders and architects, who now spent time at her, ‘Majesties pleasure,’ turned their backs on the town that closed down quicker than the Sunderland ship yards, watching it going down hill along with its residence.
The warren of rubbish-strewn passages and alleyways that gave access to the foreboding residential areas, were heavy with the stench of urine and encrusted filth. Louise Ruth walked closely behind the trio, the Doctor waving his sonic screwdriver around as if it were a cheerleader’s baton. The darkness had closed in hiding the majority of sins that ran havoc in the night.
Walking passed a shuttered shop advertising ‘Lincoln’s Fisheries, Traditional Fish and Chips, Louise Ruth’s stomach began to rumble. She could just force down a carton of chips with curry sauce about now, everyone knew greasy food was the best for hangovers. As she continued she swore she could smell the batter hanging heavy in the air.
Crossing the road at Hendon Discount Store, the group walked on in silence, ears pricked up for the slightest sound or approaching harm. In stark contrast, one building surrounded by metal fencing, looked clean, new and unmolested. Smiling she realised that it was the local Primary School adorned with the slogan “Share Our vision, Success For All.” Louise Ruth nearly laughed at the thought. The evidence of the council’s lack of vision assaulted the eyes in every direction. How could they sell that crap to a public that lines their garden walls with broken glass, barbed wire and metal spikes to keep their friends out? She thought bitterly.
***
Returning to Earth, the Doctor had immediately transported them back to the North East of England, of all places, ready to help the Brigadier. Moving from one corpse to the other, the Doctor’s sonic screwdriver buzzing as he went, his smile, which had always been prominent, slowly left his face.
Louise looked on; effervescent Paracetamol fizzing in a glass next to her and an ice pack on her forehead. She could hardly concentrate on the speed the Doctor spoke.
‘They’re known as Shadow Warriors, Brigadier. Genetically modified human beings. Their lifespan is minimal to say the least… one, maybe two hours at best.’ The Brigadier, hanging on the Doctor’s every word, followed him from gurney to gurney with Sergeant Benton in tow.
‘They’re taken from their planet of origin, modified and frozen. When they’re needed they are removed from their containment unit and programmed for a specific mission. They can’t feel, think beyond their initial programming and they can’t be reasoned with. Nothing short of decimation can stop them carrying out their given task.’
‘But… what did they want… other than to cause havoc?’ The Brigadier asked as the Doctor took one look at Louise Ruth and shook his head. Without a word he headed out of the hanger, the Brigadier and Benton following.
‘Show me, Brigadier, where they came through.’ Gesturing with his swagger stick the Brigadier motioned the Doctor to an area surrounded by metal poles and bright blue police tape.
‘Right about here Doctor… so eye witnesses tell us… and there’s very few of them.’ Removing his sonic screwdriver, the Doctor ran around the area, a comic figure in a blue suit and red Converse trainers. No one laughed. Not even Benton as he organised a team of UNIT soldiers to stand guard around the Shadow Warriors’ entrance sight.
‘The good news, Brigadier, is that it’s not a rift… so to speak.’ The Brigadier sighed with relief that was short lived.
‘Then what is it Doctor?’ Moving away from the cordoned off area the Doctor followed an invisible signal emanating from the sonic screwdriver in his hand.
‘It was a scar in time and space, opened up by a traveller hell bent on moving a number of soldiers through, all at once. The bad news is, Brigadier, they were a red herring, a diversion.’
‘A what…?’ Benton asked, trying to follow the Doctor’s rationalization.
Removing a set of keys from the Brigadier’s pocket the Doctor waved them in front of Benton’s face. As his gaze followed the keys the Doctor hit him over the head with his other hand, which had been out of sight.
‘A diversion, Brigadier, to move your attention from one thing while they did something completely different.’
Benton rubbed the back of his head, looking surprised at the Doctor’s actions. Ignoring Benton, the Doctor turned back to the Brigadier and, throwing him his keys, continued.
‘The Shadow Warrior’s one and only task was to engage UNIT soldiers while the real perpetrators sneaked passed… probably out of the scar, heading in the opposite direction.’
The Doctor looked down at the sonic screwdriver and shook his head. Something was wrong with his hypothesis and he knew it. Only the Shadow Warriors had come through the scar. Nothing else could have survived the trip. The amounts of radiation needed to transport something by that method would eventual kill anything that made the trip… not a problem with the Shadow Warriors. They hadn’t the ability to live long enough to feel the effects.
Despite his misgivings he decided to keep the information to himself. No point in winding the Brigadier up and setting him off in a specific direction. His shoot first and ask questions later approach to extra terrestrial diplomacy was well documented after all.
***
Jack Harkness, late of Torchwood Three, Cardiff, immediately confronted the Doctor on his return to the hanger.
‘Doctor, what a pleasure to see you again. How’s Louise Ruth?’ The Doctor ignored Jack’s outstretched arms and looked at him quizzical.
‘What are you doing here…? I thought you were back with the Time Agency.’ The Doctor motioned towards Jack’s wrist, the vortex manipulator’s leather strap snug on his arm. Jack patted his arm and smiled.
‘I got a call that our friend from the tower was back. Apparently up to his usual tricks. Besides… we can’t go back to Cardiff… too many people to explain too many things to.’ Jack turned to look at the shrouded bodies and shook his head. ‘Shadow Warriors, if I’m not mistaken. Kept on ice until they’re needed… I know how they feel. What are they doing here Doc? I mean they’re not supposed to be in this part of the galaxy.’
‘I don’t think they knew that Jack,’ The Doctor said as he turned, noticing that Louise Ruth was now a lot more animated than she had been before. Ianto Jones, also from Torchwood Three, stood next to her, a carton of Costa Coffee steaming in both hands.
‘Triple shot espresso, no milk, no sugar… to go. That should sort you out. Sorry it’s not Nero’s… it’s all the airport had. At least it isn’t Starbucks.’ Ianto said in his soft Welsh accent. Louise Ruth smiled up at him; it was always good to see a friendly face when she had a hangover.
‘How do you feel about time and space travel then?’ Ianto handed her a carton of coffee. Louise took hers gratefully and sipped, not taking her eyes off Ianto for an instant.
‘Terrible, I’m seeing a psychiatrist … in fact I’m seeing two… I think I need my eyes testing.’ Ianto laughed as he took a tentative sip from his own carton.
‘You might have competition there, Jack,’ the Doctor said with a smile. Jack turned, looking at Louise and Ianto, realising that the Doctor was trying to distract him from the problem at hand but Jack wasn’t having any of it.
‘There’s more out there, and you know it. We’re getting multiple signals heading from Newcastle towards the coast.’ The Doctor nodded,
‘I suspected as much.’ The Doctor bent his head forward in thought, tapping the sonic screwdriver against his forehead as he walked.
‘Jack’s found more of them in a town not far from here. I think he’s wanting to go after them,’ Ianto said in a whisper so Jack wouldn’t hear. Louise slowly shook her head as she thought.
‘These Shadow Warriors are just drones aren’t they?’ Ianto nodded then took a sip from his carton of coffee, wondering where Louise Ruth was heading. ‘If you wanted to hide something from me you’d lead me away from it wouldn’t you?’ Again Ianto nodded then abruptly stopped.
‘He’s using the Warriors to distract us. Lead us away from what he deems as important.’ Turning Ianto realised that the Doctor and Jack were both listening to his conversation with Louise Ruth.
‘Louise Ruth’s right… I say we leave the Brigadier and his men here and get a UNIT transport and track them down. For something needing stealth they leave a footprint like a Sasquatch,’ Jack added, his gaze shifting from Ianto and Louise back to his vortex manipulator on his wrist. The Doctor nodded at the Brigadier.
‘They are the more immediate threat Brigadier.’ The Brigadier turned towards Benton, who was looking at his Sontaran bracelet.
‘Sergeant Major Benton, pick up a 110 and track these things down… and… stop playing with that bracelet thing. You don’t know what effects it may have.’ Benton came to attention and, saluting, headed off towards a second hanger where their vehicles were parked.
‘Look after yourself Brigadier. If it’s still here it has more tricks up its sleeve… if it has sleeves,’ Jack added with a smile as the group followed Benton.
Turning towards the Doctor, Jack couldn’t help smiling. ‘Nice suit but I thought for this kind of weather you’d wear that tan coat, the one you were given by Janice Joplin…’ Jack stopped talking, noticing Louise Ruth quickly shaking her head and making a slashing gesture across her throat with her right hand.
As the Doctor strode off ahead Louise Ruth whispered, ‘Don’t mention the coat. Someone had too much, err…air… on Chives 2…and was sick on it.’
Jack turned back to face the way he was walking a smile spreading across his face. ‘Louise Ruth… you didn’t.’ He added as he watched the Doctor walking in front of him. The blue suit, the converse trainers and those tight buns, he thought with a smile. He reminded himself to buy Louise Ruth a drink the next time he had the opportunity. Perhaps he could get more than the coat off him.
Hendon, Ready or Not 2/7