Nightmares of Steel - Chapter One - Return to Sender

Deep in thought, the Doctor peered intently at the small, metallic, sphere he was twiddling with his right hand. His left hand was tapping impatiently on the console of the TARDIS. As the column rose and fell he slowly looked up, a lonely look on his face.

“I really believed she’d come with me” he was thinking. The TARDIS, so attuned to his feelings and thoughts, responded by deepening it’s interior lighting to a darker, more brooding, shade of green.

“You felt it too?” he asked the TARDIS – not verbally, they were connected. It was a part of him, or was he a part of it? Sometimes he felt he couldn’t tell anymore. The green light darkened further.

“What did I do wrong?” he asked her. The TARDIS couldn’t really tell him, she didn’t know. She hadn’t had time to get to know Rose properly, not her way.

Desperately trying to discover where he’d made the mistake - was it his attitude to her useless boyfriend? – the Doctor moved around the central console, twisting spheres and wheels, and flicking levers in an almost automatic way. Glancing at the scanner screen he noticed the co-ordinates of the time-vortex flashing by. A puzzled look fell across his face, his brow furrowing. He leaned closer to the screen, as though drawn by the Gallifreyan symbols whirring around. Gripping the sides of the screen, he looked up, a huge beaming grin spreading across his face.

“Of course” he shouted to no-one. The TARDIS brightened in response to his jubilant mood. “She doesn’t know we travel in time!”

He wasn’t sure if that would really be the answer, if that would really persuade her to travel with him. But it was worth a shot. Even if he ended up looking foolish. If she said no, what would be the chances of bumping into her again?

“A million to one!” he told himself.

The TARDIS seemed to pulsate with bright pale green light, as the Doctor hurriedly pushed other controls, and twisted the spheres and wheels back. Punching in the co-ordinates for London, the exact time he’d left Rose standing watching, the Doctor couldn’t suppress a smug grin. But despite his outward appearance, he was nervous. He didn’t know why. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to – not when it came to humans. And what was he doing going back for one? Not to save her life, just to try and persuade her to travel with him. Shaking off these strange feelings, he continued to move around the console, taking the TARDIS back.

Back to Earth.

Back to London.

Back to Rose.

It seemed to take an eternity for the central column to stop it’s constant rise and fall. The Doctor stared at the column, then at the console. Everything seemed to have slowed down. Time itself seemed to have slowed. Taking a deep breath, he walked around the console to the scanner. Not daring to look at the scene outside the TARDIS, the Doctor checked the co-ordinates. Everything looked perfect. Pausing for a moment to think of exactly what he would say to Rose, the Doctor slowly turned to face the TARDIS doors. With a determined, yet slightly nervous, step he walked to the doors, and paused again.

“Forgot to tell you, it travels in time” he said aloud. Grimacing he told himself that wasn’t the way to persuade her. “Did I mention it travels in time?”. He shrugged. “Better” he thought. And with an almost imperceptible nod he reached for the door. With one last deep breath, and composing himself casually, the Doctor opened the door, with a grin on his face.

That grin soon turned to confusion as he surveyed the scene in front of him. She wasn’t there. He’d left her at night, but now, the bright warmth of a mid-summer sun was burning his face. As he looked again he realised that this wasn’t the time, or place, he’d left Rose Tyler. If it was London, it wasn’t 2005.

But it wasn’t even London.

Earth, maybe, but where?

*****

Three months earlier, in earth time, the newly appointed head of the UK branch of UNIT was surveying her office. Standing in the doorway, facing the big, mahogany, desk, she looked around. It was a strange sensation, knowing that this was now her office. Only yesterday she’d been here to see her outgoing commanding officer. Looking at the plaque on the door she was sharply reminded that not only was she now in charge of the UK operation, she’d finally been promoted to Brigadier. With her left hand she slowly traced the wording on the plaque, a satisfied look on her face.

Moving into her new office wasn’t going to be difficult, most things that Brigadier Amie Hudson would need were already here. Anything not already in place was personal and that only consisted of a family photo and a small, battered, old, teddy bear. Stepping over the threshold into the office, Amie took a deep breath. Clutching her treasured possessions in her right hand she turned, and gently pushed the door to.

Turning to face the desk again, Amie leaned slowly against the door, let out a long, deep, sigh, and closed her eyes. After a few moments she opened her eyes and walked over to the desk. Walking round to her chair, she placed the photo frame and teddy down, and began to re-arrange her desk.

Satisfied that things were just where she wanted them, Amie sat down and picked up the teddy. Absent-mindedly she began to play with it’s ears, whilst looking at the photo. Smiling back at her she saw herself, about seven years earlier, with her parents. She remembered the day well, it had been the day that Amie had passed out. Her parents had never really been happy when she’d signed up, but they’d supported her nevertheless, and were proud of her achievements. But it was her uncle who had been most proud of her, and she knew he’d be proud now. Amie glanced down at the teddy, smiled, and placed it next to the photo.

Things were quiet now, but Amie knew that there were reports to read, and routine observation to be checked. Now, more than ever, she was aware just how important it was for her to be fully up-to-date with all the UK intelligence reports. But Amie also had a few promotional decisions to be made. She’d been promoted to Brigadier, which meant there was a gap to be filled – and it was her decision who went where, what changes needed to be made. Snapping out of her reverie, Amie booted up the office computer. She needed to check that Geneva had upgraded her account, and start to get the current intelligence from all her sections. And she needed those personnel files.

Looking around her office, as the computer slowly whirred into life, Amie spotted the battered old green filing cabinet which was tucked into a corner. It looked as though it had been there since the building had been finished. She smiled, and slightly shook her head. There was a place for paper-based filing, and she’d never thought that the commanding officer’s office was that place. Amie was only in her late twenties, and computer-literate. In her opinion everything could be logged faster, and more accurately on a computerised system. For her, paper files belonged in the archives. It was a new millennium, and about time technology was being used properly.

Amie turned back to her computer, and tapped in her login details. Within moments she knew that her account had been upgraded. She saw new connections being made. Connections to top secret, and top level, information. As her desktop loaded Amie saw new icons, icons which would take her directly to the monitoring reports, and complete personnel files.

“What first?” Amie asked herself. “Status reports. Top priority has to be getting a clear picture of what – if anything – is going on at the moment.”

Clicking the relevant icon on her desktop, Amie connected to the Central Intelligence System for the whole of UNIT. Entering her login details once more, Amie was granted access to menus offering her detailed reports, overviews of current intelligence, and reports of serious incidents. Starting with the overviews, Amie began to appraise herself of the current climate in the UK. Glancing at the calendar on her desk, she started with the most recent synopsis – posted today, 13th April 2002.

Some hours later, a knock on the door interrupted Amie’s reading.

“Enter.” She called out, barely looking up from the reports.

“I thought you might like some coffee Ma’am.” Her aide said, as she gingerly peered around the door, mug in hand. “And I can arrange for some dinner for you. You’ve not eaten all day.”

Glancing up at the clock, Amie was stunned to see it was now 8pm. How long had she been reading reports? Some 10 hours, she quickly calculated.

“Thank you. Coffee would be lovely.” Her stomach suddenly grumbled. “And so would dinner!” she smiled.

“Is there anything else you need?” Sandra asked. “I’ve pulled the basic personnel files you might need for you.” She continued, as she walked over to place the mug of hot coffee on Amie’s desk.

Smiling, Amie replied “No. That will be fine. I think I might take those files back with me tonight.” Rubbing her eyes she suddenly realised how tired she was. “Sitting staring at a screen all day’s surprisingly tiring! But I’ve just got a couple of things to finish before I leave.”

“I’ll bring everything through for you as soon as it’s ready.”

“Thanks.”

As Sandra left the office, quietly closing the door, Amie picked up her mug of coffee and turned back to the computer screen. She didn’t know why, but she had a feeling that she was missing something important. There was a hint of something happening, but she had no idea what.

“I’m being paranoid.” She told herself, and moved on to check her emails and memos.

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