Post by tractator on Nov 11, 2009 14:47:57 GMT -5
Its been a long time since I logged on here but I dug this out recently and thought it might be worth an airing...
Its a chapter from a very big piece I started and never finished but I thought it may be worth a read purely as a curiosity.
Aldlerly House, 50 miles north of London,
early 1972...
They fell back into normal time and space almost instantly. Tobe Warner didn't really understand the process, but then he didn't need to; that was what the lab boys were for.
All he knew was that a moment ago they had been on the transport platform, then there had been a brief sensation of paralysis as the stasis field enveloped him, a vaguely disturbing perception like being squeezed through the eye of a needle, and finally the smell and feel of wet grass and the near-darkness of a twilight sky. He peered through the surrounding vegetation, noting that he had arrived on the edge of the woodland that surrounded the rear of the manor house.
He sniffed deeply at the clean crisp air, marvelling at the thought that this wasn't just any air, this was the air of 1972.
"Red Three, confirm arrival," whispered the earpiece in his ear.
The call-in.
"Red Three confirmed," he said, adjusting his throat-mic, "Position as planned. Awaiting orders." He removed his pistol from its holster, inspected the magazine, then slipped it back into place. Next he checked the charge on his taser before tucking it neatly into his boot. Finally he pulled up his left sleeve to inspect the compact and irregular shaped metallic device strapped to his wrist. This was his lifeline back to 2008, and he grunted with satisfaction and relief at the sight of the pulsing line of red LEDs that ran along its spine.
Moments later his Team Leader opened the channel again. "This is Red One. Synchronise watches to minus 11.59 on my mark...Mark!"
Tobe activated the countdown on his chronograph and slipped it into the breast pocket of his rough khaki uniform. Time was ticking away.
"Red group advance to target; communication by taps only."
Adjusting his UNIT beret, he slung his army-issue rifle over his shoulder and set out across the grounds to mingle with the unsuspecting sentries.
Jo Grant closed the glass doors that led out onto the paving surrounding the mansion house, and secured them firmly against the cold night air. She considered pulling across the heavy curtains but thought better of it. The Doctor was expecting a visitor but he hadn’t been too specific about whom, and the patrolling troops had been instructed to look in whenever they passed to ensure all was fine.
She turned as The Doctor entered the study from the hallway, balancing a tray on his hand like a waiter at the Savoy.
“You know, one of the things you can be certain of with politicians, “ he said as he closed the door behind him, “Is that whatever their political ideas, they always keep a well-stocked larder.” His voice was as always jovial, but to Jo his cynical quip displayed a thinly-veiled contempt for politicians.
The pair of crystal glasses on the tray rang as he placed it on the coffee table and sat down on the heavy and highly polished leather settee. “Not to mention the cellar!” he added.
Jo leaned over and frowned with concern at the no-doubt expensive bottle of vintage red that accompanied the glasses. “Doctor, should you just help yourself like that?” She was pretty certain that if Sir Reginald were to find out he wouldn’t be too happy.
“Well you heard what Miss Paget said, Jo - that we were to treat the place as our own.” He rubbed his hands together with anticipation as Jo turned away and looked around her nervously.
The study was quite large and airy, its old-fashioned décor and furnishings giving off the comforting aroma of the school classrooms of yesteryear, yet it was all she could do to stop her eyes from straying back to the exterior doors. It was dark outside now and it was impossible to see out, the view obscured by the reflection of the room on the glass pains. She glimpsed her own anxious expression and wished that she could draw the curtains, to shut out the intruder that could be mere inches away on the other side of that glass.
“I wish she hadn’t sent all the servants away!” she sighed as she forced herself to turn away.
“No, that’s common sense,” he smiled reassuringly, “Can’t expect a ghost to walk in a house full of people, can you?” He cut a little cheese and placed it on a cracker. “Come on, tuck in!”
“Oh I’m not really hungry, thank you Doctor,” she said as she took the seat next to him.
“Well, you ought to eat something, you know. This is likely to be a very long night.”
She jumped up as a chime rang out. “What’s that?” she whispered, her eyes darting frantically, trying to locate the source of the sound.
The Doctor merely glanced around. “It’s a clock chiming,” he explained calmly through a mouthful of cheese, “I say, you really ought to try this gorgonzola cheese, its absolutely delicious!”
His attention returned to the tray of commandeered vittles as Jo resumed her nervous pacing.
Infiltrating the site and taking his position had been a cinche.
Tobe had strolled casually up to the house, his cupped hand shielding a half-smoked cigarette from the strengthening wind. He'd hoped that the soldiers would simply accept his furtive break from cover as the actions of a comrade returning from a crafty skive. The cigarette was a neat touch - he'd swapped his usual Marlboros for a packet of Woodbines in period packaging - he'd even had the audacity to offer them round as he mingled with the natives, before finally entering the building via the front door.
Once inside, he had put on his best english accent (it helped that his grandmother had lived all her life in Chesterfield and he'd visited often enough to be able to emulate it), relieved the sentry outside the door to the study, and had sent out the signal to indicate he was ready.
Now it was just a matter of waiting...
The Doctor sighed as he poured himself another glass of a surprisingly cheeky '62 claret and glanced up at his nervous companion.
"Jo, won't you please have a seat, you'll wear a hole in the carpet, what with all this pacing. There really is no need to be nervous. I somehow doubt that our 'ghost' will put in an appearance just yet." He scratched his chin in puzzlement as he regarded the plate of crumbs before him. Had he really finished all that cheese single-handedly?
Jo shrugged and moved to the chair opposite him, perching on its arm as she clasped her hands together. He could see the nervous tension in her body, the frustration etched in her frown as she chewed on her lower lip.
"I'm sorry, Doctor," she sighed, "Its just all this talk of ghosts -"
"Oh, its not a real ghost, Jo," he explained. "Goodness, no. No such thing. No, our intruder is something with a good deal more substance to it."
"But you said-"
"Oh, I was just quoting Sir Reginald. Whatever or whoever his visitor was, it obviously showed some of the qualities of a ghost. Some kind of materialization, most likely, but that doesn't instantly make it a ghost."
"Well, I suppose not," she conceded.
"Exactly!" he smiled, as he poured a second glass of wine and offered it to her. "Now, have this, it'll take the edge off your nerves."
"Thanks!" She took it and sipped quietly. "So, when are you expecting something to happen?"
"Oh, anytime, Jo. Anytime at all." He took a sip of his wine and looked around thoughtfully. "From any direction and in any shape. And lets face it, there are worse places we could spend our time waiting."
"I suppose so," she shrugged, "But don't you hate the uncertainty of it all?"
"On the contrary, Jo, I quite enjoy it. As I once told Agatha, nothing beats a good mystery. Now, I wonder if we have any more of that cheese..."
"All units in position," chimed Tobe's earpiece, "Hold positions, people. Red Three, confirm the target is in the study, please."
He smiled as he stepped closer to the door, discretely cocking an ear to listen for the sound of conversation in the study. It always amused him how politely Pollard - Red One - could issue orders.
There was definitely the murmur of muted voices within. He felt round the inside of his collar, locating the hidden throat mic, and tapped it distinctly three times.
"Confirmation received, Red Three. Okay, we go in in five seconds."
He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. If everybody was in position then he knew that Dryden and Sigurdsson would be on the outside of the building, loitering discretely by the exterior doors to the study. Pollard would be co-ordinating the team from the vantage point of the summer house on the hillock in the far corner of the grounds, while any moment now Mendez would break cover from the trees in an attempt to draw off the majority of the soldiers patrolling the grounds.
He started to count down under his breath when almost immediately there was the sound of gunfire outside and the commotion of running feet and shouted orders.
As the noises receded he finished counting down then placed his hand on the door handle. He knocked briefly then turned the handle and stepped inside.
At the sound of gunfire Jo had jumped sharply to her feet. "What's that?" she asked, her voice shrill with panic as she listened to the sound of soldiers hurrying by outside.
The Doctor stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I'm not sure, Jo, but something isn't right-"
The door from the hallway opened and one of the UNIT soldiers entered. "We have a problem, Sir. I wonder if we might step outside?" He gestured to the exterior doors.
The Doctor put down his wine glass and slowly got to his feet. "What kind of a problem, old chap?"
The soldier seemed to consider before answering. "Its hard to explain, Sir. It would be easier to show you."
"Hmm. Jo, can you pop down to the kitchen and get me a left-handed corkscrew, please."
Jo frowned. It was a most unusual request, to say the least.
"Please, Jo. Its most urgent."
She shrugged and started toward the door. "And Jo?"
She turned slowly, still a little puzzled.
"It has to be left-handed," he assured her, "Now run along, there's a good girl."
As soon as she'd gone he turned to the soldier. "Now then, would you mind telling me who you really are? Because I'm fairly certain you're not one of ours!"
Tobe arched his eyebrows in astonishment, and momentarily considered bluffing it out. What would be the point, though?
"What gave me away? Was it the accent? I thought it was pretty darned good."
"No, the accent was fine, a very good imitation, although I can plainly see now that you're not from these shores. American?"
"Uh-huh. Born and raised in New Jersey."
"I see. No, it was the stance. Your hand was hovering about your sidearm, ready to draw it if I gave you any trouble."
Tobe grinned sheepishly and mentally kicked himself. "You're right of course. Very observant. Okay, boys, you might as well come in, cover's blown."
Dryden and Sigurdsson entered from outside, tasers raised and at the ready.
"I take it you don't really need a left-handed corkscrew?"
The Doctor shook his head. "I just wanted Jo out of harm's way. It is me you want, isn't it?"
"Yes. You are Doctor John Smith, aren't you?"
"Yes, I am. And you are...?"
Tobe shrugged off the question. "A little cog in a big machine. We need you to come with us - quietly if possible, but by force if necessary."
"I see. I assume I am your captive, then?"
Tobe nodded. "I suppose you are. I really do apologise but this has to be done."
The Doctor seemed to consider for a moment, weighing up each of the intruders in turn. "May I ask precisely where we are going?"
"I'd say its more a case of 'when'."
"By that I assume you mean we time travel. And you're not the people who Sir Reginald saw because you're here specifically for me." The Doctor scratched his chin as he thought aloud.
"No. I believe the expression is 'thats a different kettle of fish altogether'. Now we really should leave before your friend returns from her fruitless errand." Tobe hoped that the implication was clear.
"Yes, I suppose we should. Could you pass me my cape, there's a good fellow." This was addressed to Dryden, along with a nod to the hatstand in the corner.
Dryden slowly backed to the corner, taking care to keep his attention and his taser fixed firmly on the Doctor.
"In the meantime, Doctor Smith, I believe you are carrying a device that we would be wise to confiscate."
"Really? And what would that be?" He gave a wry smile, as if he'd been caught out.
"My associate will know it when he sees it, I'm sure." Sigurdsson stepped up behind the Doctor and began to conduct a body search. When he reached his chest he located a bulge in the inner breast pocket of his jacket and extracted the sonic screwdriver.
"Careful with that, old chap, in the wrong hands it can be quite dangerous."
As Sigurdsson pocketed the device Dryden stepped forward and handed The Doctor his cape.
"You're most kind," he said, smiling warmly. As he took it, he twirled and fanned it through the air so that it spread out and landed full in Dryden's face, momentarily throwing him off-balance as he attempted to duck out of its way. It was immediately followed up by a precisely placed thumb to the solar plexus that paralysed him where he stood.
Without even the briefest of pauses, their captive stepped back into Sigurdsson, winding him with a sharp back-jab of the elbow before stepping lightly away toward Tobe.
As The Doctor advanced in a whirlwind of weaving arms it occurred to him that he’d been unwise to not draw his taser at the first opportunity. Their briefing had said the target was a highly-skilled martial artist in what he claimed was 'Venusian Aikido', but that had obviously not prepared him for the flurry of feints and jabs that sent him reeling.
As he stumbled back, The Doctor turned away to deliver a round-house kick that floored the recovering Sigurdsson as he advanced, then once again his foe was upon him, tripping him and laying him flat on the floor as he fell.
The Doctor drew Tobe's pistol and stood over him, smiling amiably. "Now perhaps you'd like to tell me who sent y-"
He slumped forward heavily and landed on him.
Tobe grunted as he heaved the dead weight aside, and looked up at the out-of-breath soldier who had clubbed The Doctor across the back the head with the butt of his pistol.
"All I can say," wheezed Pollard as he mopped his brow, "Is 'thank The Lord for open-channel protocols'."
Tobe got to his feet and dusted himself down. "Will he be okay?"
Pollard shrugged. "A little concussion won't matter, we just need him alive. Let's get this place tidied up before Miss Grant returns."
Tobe nodded. "Have you sent the recall signal yet?" He straightened the shade of a nearby standard lamp.
"No, I wasn't sure that you'd tagged him for transport. Have you?"
"Never got the chance. I'll do it now." He removed a circular device from his pocket, a metallic disc the size and thickness of an ashtray, and placed it on the recumbent form. He twisted an outer ring on its casing and it adhered to The Doctor, a line of red diodes pulsing on its face.
"Ready!"
Pollard grunted. "Okay, here goes!" He hitched up his sleeve and raised a safety cover on his wrist unit. Beneath it was a green button, which he stroked nervously. "Ready?"
Tobe eyed the hovering digit. "I 'spose. 'Least we're forewarned. Poor old Mendez is in for hell of a shock." He shrugged. No point putting off the inevitable. "Go for it!"
Pollard took a deep breath, then squeezed the button.
After what seemed like an age, the stasis field enveloped them, negating all physical motion, then they were gone, taking their incapacitated team mates and The Doctor with them...
End of this chapter. I know it leaves a lot of unanswered questions but as I say, its just one isolated chapter. Any comments welcome...
Its a chapter from a very big piece I started and never finished but I thought it may be worth a read purely as a curiosity.
C H A P T E R T H R E E ( b ) -
-O P E R A T I O N C O U N T R Y H O U S E
Aldlerly House, 50 miles north of London,
early 1972...
They fell back into normal time and space almost instantly. Tobe Warner didn't really understand the process, but then he didn't need to; that was what the lab boys were for.
All he knew was that a moment ago they had been on the transport platform, then there had been a brief sensation of paralysis as the stasis field enveloped him, a vaguely disturbing perception like being squeezed through the eye of a needle, and finally the smell and feel of wet grass and the near-darkness of a twilight sky. He peered through the surrounding vegetation, noting that he had arrived on the edge of the woodland that surrounded the rear of the manor house.
He sniffed deeply at the clean crisp air, marvelling at the thought that this wasn't just any air, this was the air of 1972.
"Red Three, confirm arrival," whispered the earpiece in his ear.
The call-in.
"Red Three confirmed," he said, adjusting his throat-mic, "Position as planned. Awaiting orders." He removed his pistol from its holster, inspected the magazine, then slipped it back into place. Next he checked the charge on his taser before tucking it neatly into his boot. Finally he pulled up his left sleeve to inspect the compact and irregular shaped metallic device strapped to his wrist. This was his lifeline back to 2008, and he grunted with satisfaction and relief at the sight of the pulsing line of red LEDs that ran along its spine.
Moments later his Team Leader opened the channel again. "This is Red One. Synchronise watches to minus 11.59 on my mark...Mark!"
Tobe activated the countdown on his chronograph and slipped it into the breast pocket of his rough khaki uniform. Time was ticking away.
"Red group advance to target; communication by taps only."
Adjusting his UNIT beret, he slung his army-issue rifle over his shoulder and set out across the grounds to mingle with the unsuspecting sentries.
*****
Jo Grant closed the glass doors that led out onto the paving surrounding the mansion house, and secured them firmly against the cold night air. She considered pulling across the heavy curtains but thought better of it. The Doctor was expecting a visitor but he hadn’t been too specific about whom, and the patrolling troops had been instructed to look in whenever they passed to ensure all was fine.
She turned as The Doctor entered the study from the hallway, balancing a tray on his hand like a waiter at the Savoy.
“You know, one of the things you can be certain of with politicians, “ he said as he closed the door behind him, “Is that whatever their political ideas, they always keep a well-stocked larder.” His voice was as always jovial, but to Jo his cynical quip displayed a thinly-veiled contempt for politicians.
The pair of crystal glasses on the tray rang as he placed it on the coffee table and sat down on the heavy and highly polished leather settee. “Not to mention the cellar!” he added.
Jo leaned over and frowned with concern at the no-doubt expensive bottle of vintage red that accompanied the glasses. “Doctor, should you just help yourself like that?” She was pretty certain that if Sir Reginald were to find out he wouldn’t be too happy.
“Well you heard what Miss Paget said, Jo - that we were to treat the place as our own.” He rubbed his hands together with anticipation as Jo turned away and looked around her nervously.
The study was quite large and airy, its old-fashioned décor and furnishings giving off the comforting aroma of the school classrooms of yesteryear, yet it was all she could do to stop her eyes from straying back to the exterior doors. It was dark outside now and it was impossible to see out, the view obscured by the reflection of the room on the glass pains. She glimpsed her own anxious expression and wished that she could draw the curtains, to shut out the intruder that could be mere inches away on the other side of that glass.
“I wish she hadn’t sent all the servants away!” she sighed as she forced herself to turn away.
“No, that’s common sense,” he smiled reassuringly, “Can’t expect a ghost to walk in a house full of people, can you?” He cut a little cheese and placed it on a cracker. “Come on, tuck in!”
“Oh I’m not really hungry, thank you Doctor,” she said as she took the seat next to him.
“Well, you ought to eat something, you know. This is likely to be a very long night.”
She jumped up as a chime rang out. “What’s that?” she whispered, her eyes darting frantically, trying to locate the source of the sound.
The Doctor merely glanced around. “It’s a clock chiming,” he explained calmly through a mouthful of cheese, “I say, you really ought to try this gorgonzola cheese, its absolutely delicious!”
His attention returned to the tray of commandeered vittles as Jo resumed her nervous pacing.
*****
Infiltrating the site and taking his position had been a cinche.
Tobe had strolled casually up to the house, his cupped hand shielding a half-smoked cigarette from the strengthening wind. He'd hoped that the soldiers would simply accept his furtive break from cover as the actions of a comrade returning from a crafty skive. The cigarette was a neat touch - he'd swapped his usual Marlboros for a packet of Woodbines in period packaging - he'd even had the audacity to offer them round as he mingled with the natives, before finally entering the building via the front door.
Once inside, he had put on his best english accent (it helped that his grandmother had lived all her life in Chesterfield and he'd visited often enough to be able to emulate it), relieved the sentry outside the door to the study, and had sent out the signal to indicate he was ready.
Now it was just a matter of waiting...
*****
The Doctor sighed as he poured himself another glass of a surprisingly cheeky '62 claret and glanced up at his nervous companion.
"Jo, won't you please have a seat, you'll wear a hole in the carpet, what with all this pacing. There really is no need to be nervous. I somehow doubt that our 'ghost' will put in an appearance just yet." He scratched his chin in puzzlement as he regarded the plate of crumbs before him. Had he really finished all that cheese single-handedly?
Jo shrugged and moved to the chair opposite him, perching on its arm as she clasped her hands together. He could see the nervous tension in her body, the frustration etched in her frown as she chewed on her lower lip.
"I'm sorry, Doctor," she sighed, "Its just all this talk of ghosts -"
"Oh, its not a real ghost, Jo," he explained. "Goodness, no. No such thing. No, our intruder is something with a good deal more substance to it."
"But you said-"
"Oh, I was just quoting Sir Reginald. Whatever or whoever his visitor was, it obviously showed some of the qualities of a ghost. Some kind of materialization, most likely, but that doesn't instantly make it a ghost."
"Well, I suppose not," she conceded.
"Exactly!" he smiled, as he poured a second glass of wine and offered it to her. "Now, have this, it'll take the edge off your nerves."
"Thanks!" She took it and sipped quietly. "So, when are you expecting something to happen?"
"Oh, anytime, Jo. Anytime at all." He took a sip of his wine and looked around thoughtfully. "From any direction and in any shape. And lets face it, there are worse places we could spend our time waiting."
"I suppose so," she shrugged, "But don't you hate the uncertainty of it all?"
"On the contrary, Jo, I quite enjoy it. As I once told Agatha, nothing beats a good mystery. Now, I wonder if we have any more of that cheese..."
*****
"All units in position," chimed Tobe's earpiece, "Hold positions, people. Red Three, confirm the target is in the study, please."
He smiled as he stepped closer to the door, discretely cocking an ear to listen for the sound of conversation in the study. It always amused him how politely Pollard - Red One - could issue orders.
There was definitely the murmur of muted voices within. He felt round the inside of his collar, locating the hidden throat mic, and tapped it distinctly three times.
"Confirmation received, Red Three. Okay, we go in in five seconds."
He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. If everybody was in position then he knew that Dryden and Sigurdsson would be on the outside of the building, loitering discretely by the exterior doors to the study. Pollard would be co-ordinating the team from the vantage point of the summer house on the hillock in the far corner of the grounds, while any moment now Mendez would break cover from the trees in an attempt to draw off the majority of the soldiers patrolling the grounds.
He started to count down under his breath when almost immediately there was the sound of gunfire outside and the commotion of running feet and shouted orders.
As the noises receded he finished counting down then placed his hand on the door handle. He knocked briefly then turned the handle and stepped inside.
*****
At the sound of gunfire Jo had jumped sharply to her feet. "What's that?" she asked, her voice shrill with panic as she listened to the sound of soldiers hurrying by outside.
The Doctor stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I'm not sure, Jo, but something isn't right-"
The door from the hallway opened and one of the UNIT soldiers entered. "We have a problem, Sir. I wonder if we might step outside?" He gestured to the exterior doors.
The Doctor put down his wine glass and slowly got to his feet. "What kind of a problem, old chap?"
The soldier seemed to consider before answering. "Its hard to explain, Sir. It would be easier to show you."
"Hmm. Jo, can you pop down to the kitchen and get me a left-handed corkscrew, please."
Jo frowned. It was a most unusual request, to say the least.
"Please, Jo. Its most urgent."
She shrugged and started toward the door. "And Jo?"
She turned slowly, still a little puzzled.
"It has to be left-handed," he assured her, "Now run along, there's a good girl."
As soon as she'd gone he turned to the soldier. "Now then, would you mind telling me who you really are? Because I'm fairly certain you're not one of ours!"
Tobe arched his eyebrows in astonishment, and momentarily considered bluffing it out. What would be the point, though?
"What gave me away? Was it the accent? I thought it was pretty darned good."
"No, the accent was fine, a very good imitation, although I can plainly see now that you're not from these shores. American?"
"Uh-huh. Born and raised in New Jersey."
"I see. No, it was the stance. Your hand was hovering about your sidearm, ready to draw it if I gave you any trouble."
Tobe grinned sheepishly and mentally kicked himself. "You're right of course. Very observant. Okay, boys, you might as well come in, cover's blown."
Dryden and Sigurdsson entered from outside, tasers raised and at the ready.
"I take it you don't really need a left-handed corkscrew?"
The Doctor shook his head. "I just wanted Jo out of harm's way. It is me you want, isn't it?"
"Yes. You are Doctor John Smith, aren't you?"
"Yes, I am. And you are...?"
Tobe shrugged off the question. "A little cog in a big machine. We need you to come with us - quietly if possible, but by force if necessary."
"I see. I assume I am your captive, then?"
Tobe nodded. "I suppose you are. I really do apologise but this has to be done."
The Doctor seemed to consider for a moment, weighing up each of the intruders in turn. "May I ask precisely where we are going?"
"I'd say its more a case of 'when'."
"By that I assume you mean we time travel. And you're not the people who Sir Reginald saw because you're here specifically for me." The Doctor scratched his chin as he thought aloud.
"No. I believe the expression is 'thats a different kettle of fish altogether'. Now we really should leave before your friend returns from her fruitless errand." Tobe hoped that the implication was clear.
"Yes, I suppose we should. Could you pass me my cape, there's a good fellow." This was addressed to Dryden, along with a nod to the hatstand in the corner.
Dryden slowly backed to the corner, taking care to keep his attention and his taser fixed firmly on the Doctor.
"In the meantime, Doctor Smith, I believe you are carrying a device that we would be wise to confiscate."
"Really? And what would that be?" He gave a wry smile, as if he'd been caught out.
"My associate will know it when he sees it, I'm sure." Sigurdsson stepped up behind the Doctor and began to conduct a body search. When he reached his chest he located a bulge in the inner breast pocket of his jacket and extracted the sonic screwdriver.
"Careful with that, old chap, in the wrong hands it can be quite dangerous."
As Sigurdsson pocketed the device Dryden stepped forward and handed The Doctor his cape.
"You're most kind," he said, smiling warmly. As he took it, he twirled and fanned it through the air so that it spread out and landed full in Dryden's face, momentarily throwing him off-balance as he attempted to duck out of its way. It was immediately followed up by a precisely placed thumb to the solar plexus that paralysed him where he stood.
Without even the briefest of pauses, their captive stepped back into Sigurdsson, winding him with a sharp back-jab of the elbow before stepping lightly away toward Tobe.
As The Doctor advanced in a whirlwind of weaving arms it occurred to him that he’d been unwise to not draw his taser at the first opportunity. Their briefing had said the target was a highly-skilled martial artist in what he claimed was 'Venusian Aikido', but that had obviously not prepared him for the flurry of feints and jabs that sent him reeling.
As he stumbled back, The Doctor turned away to deliver a round-house kick that floored the recovering Sigurdsson as he advanced, then once again his foe was upon him, tripping him and laying him flat on the floor as he fell.
The Doctor drew Tobe's pistol and stood over him, smiling amiably. "Now perhaps you'd like to tell me who sent y-"
He slumped forward heavily and landed on him.
Tobe grunted as he heaved the dead weight aside, and looked up at the out-of-breath soldier who had clubbed The Doctor across the back the head with the butt of his pistol.
"All I can say," wheezed Pollard as he mopped his brow, "Is 'thank The Lord for open-channel protocols'."
Tobe got to his feet and dusted himself down. "Will he be okay?"
Pollard shrugged. "A little concussion won't matter, we just need him alive. Let's get this place tidied up before Miss Grant returns."
Tobe nodded. "Have you sent the recall signal yet?" He straightened the shade of a nearby standard lamp.
"No, I wasn't sure that you'd tagged him for transport. Have you?"
"Never got the chance. I'll do it now." He removed a circular device from his pocket, a metallic disc the size and thickness of an ashtray, and placed it on the recumbent form. He twisted an outer ring on its casing and it adhered to The Doctor, a line of red diodes pulsing on its face.
"Ready!"
Pollard grunted. "Okay, here goes!" He hitched up his sleeve and raised a safety cover on his wrist unit. Beneath it was a green button, which he stroked nervously. "Ready?"
Tobe eyed the hovering digit. "I 'spose. 'Least we're forewarned. Poor old Mendez is in for hell of a shock." He shrugged. No point putting off the inevitable. "Go for it!"
Pollard took a deep breath, then squeezed the button.
After what seemed like an age, the stasis field enveloped them, negating all physical motion, then they were gone, taking their incapacitated team mates and The Doctor with them...
End of this chapter. I know it leaves a lot of unanswered questions but as I say, its just one isolated chapter. Any comments welcome...
