by Mark Speed
“There was no giant spider, was there?” said Sir Adrian. “At least there was no mention of one in either your report or Dr Peterson’s.”
“No, but the archives say there was a giant spider. And last week there were giant beetles.”
“Both arthropods,” said Bunce. “Entirely different phylum to one another, and very difficult to mistake one for the other. But it is certainly interesting that we have something non-human and aggressive out there. And these beetles were aggressive, you say?”
“Vicious creatures! We were lucky to escape with our lives.”
“Really? And how did you escape?”
“Doctor How, if it was him, saved us,” said Peterson.
“Saved us?” Thickett spluttered. “He blew the thing to smithereens, destroying millions of pounds of government property, and nearly killing us into the bargain!”
“He wasn’t the one who flicked a switch that made the spark that started the fire that caused the explosion,” said Peterson evenly.
“So what makes you think he’s behind all this?” Bunce asked Thickett.
“The Time Lords, Time Keepers, whatever you want to call them. They’re egomaniacs, the lot of them. They’re like fire-starters. They go around the place stirring up trouble and then they come in and magically solve the problem. Well, in my opinion, they are the problem.”
“And you think they leaked these photos?”
“Who else could have hacked into the Met Police systems?”
“Well,” said Bunce, “I don’t want to make any wild accusations, but any security service could have done it. I can’t see a motive in this instance.”
“To spread fear and disorder,” hissed Thickett, squinting his eyes. “It’s what they do. Fear and disorder, and then they appear to bring calm. Heroes of the hour, that’s what they see themselves as.”
There was silence for a few moments. It was Sir Adrian who broke it.
“I would like MI16 to continue their inquiries,” he said. “Doctor Peterson, I’m hoping you’ll bring a rational and scientific influence to bear on Thickwit’s activities. I’ve allocated you a room in the basement so that we can keep in closer contact. Sorry there’s no view down there, but we’re a bit short of space. Still, it’s a bit more secure if that’s any consolation. Speak to facilities management and they’ll tell you where it is and help you get set up.”
“Very good, Sir Adrian,” said Doctor Peterson.
“Good luck,” said Sir Adrian.
Thickett couldn’t read the situation, so Peterson grabbed his upper arm and began to lead him out of the office. “It’s Thickett,” called Thickett over his shoulder as the door closed.
“What do you make of that?” asked Sir Adrian.
“Thickett’s deranged. Quite clearly out of his mind.”
“No, I didn’t mean the chap’s mental condition. But whilst we’re on the subject, he’s clearly very driven by it all. Seen it happen to operatives before. They become obsessed. But there’s the germ of an original instruction there, which is what intrigues me. Someone set him off after these Time people. The files are all a bit murky – even the ones on Thickwit. I mean Thickett. That’s all an aside. I was really asking you about those pictures. What do you make of them? I assume you’ve had them checked and we’re not looking at some obvious Photoshop imagery?”
“They’re real alright, Sir Adrian. We even had specialists go back to the exact locations and check the brickwork in the background.”
“And the fact that they were leaked?”
“One of our team, perhaps. It would be difficult, but not impossible, to have hacked into our systems to get the pictures.”
“But someone would have had to have known they were there first. I take it you’ve never had this happen before?”
“You’re right, never.” It was obvious in hindsight, but she’d missed that point. Her estimation of Sir Adrian went up another notch. “But it could have been an inside job.”
“Not to have released the images simultaneously, and all over the internet. This smells bad. At the least there’s a very savvy hacker. At worst, this is a foreign power. It happened so quickly after the discovery of our double-attack here that I can’t help but see a connection.”
“So you’re saying… what?”
“We might be under attack. Some new kind of terrorism. An asymmetric kind of warfare that we don’t even comprehend. Forget assassinations. Forget bombs. There’s the possibility that we’re now in an era of animals bioengineered to kill.”
“Do you really think so, Sir Adrian?”
“It seems a bit far-fetched. But you have to admit that it fits the facts. The Russians tried to train dogs to go underneath German tanks with explosives in the Second World War. The Americans were going to drop parachute bombs filled with bats carrying incendiary explosives all over Tokyo so that they nested in the wooden houses at night and caused fires. We’re seven decades on from that, and science has moved on. Who knows what’s possible?”
“If it’s true, then it’s absolutely horrific.”
There seemed to be no end to Commander Bunce’s good fortune that morning. If this was indeed some kind of new biological terrorism, then it was SO15’s headache, not hers. She’d be only too happy to give her old colleagues in counter-terrorism her full cooperation, whilst dumping the whole horrid mess on them.
Doctor How strode into the centre of the Spectrel and caressed the console. “Oh, it’s so good to be back home! How are you, my darling?” He stretched his hands above his head and spun around. Trinity let out a loud meow and nuzzled her head against the entrance they’d just come through and began purring loudly.
“Like, is she in one piece?”
“She’s just fine, Kevin.”
“Where the hell did she go? We really needed her and she just didn’t show!”
The Doctor smiled. “She took a gamble.”
“A gamble?”
“She knows as well as I what we’re facing…. This existential threat. Just as I can’t handle it alone, neither can she. So she forced the hand of David’s Spectrel.”
“What do you mean?”
“As I’ve explained before, a Time Keeper and his Spectrel are inextricably linked. We need each other to thrive and become more than the sum of our separate selves. He’d not looked after his Spectrel at all, and she wasn’t best pleased with him. So my Spectrel forced her hand. She was looking after David – and by the way, it’s a bigger drain on resources than you might think to look after a sickly Time Keeper, especially if it’s not your own. To put it bluntly, she put David’s Spectrel on the spot. We’d saved David’s life, and so David’s Spectrel should save ours.”
“But his Spectrel only turned up right at the last second. I mean… we nearly got killed.” Kevin was trembling with the enormity of the realisation.
“Yes. And you can take that as a measure of just how unhappy David’s Spectrel was.”
“But your Spectrel gambled with our lives!”
“Oh, she’s the ballsiest Spectrel who ever existed,” said the Doctor, with a little smile still on his lips. “But what she did demonstrated to David’s Spectrel that she wasn’t joking when she believed the situation to be existential. She showed that everything is on the line, and that she meant it.”
“Jeez! Like, I dunno what to say. I’m shaking. This is, like, terrifying.”
“Believe me, Kevin, when it comes down to a real fight, you want a partner who’s prepared to risk it all if needs be. She got David’s Spectrel re-engaged. Not just on-side, but engaged in the action. You don’t know what that’s worth. Tell me what happened after David’s Spectrel saved us. Think back.”
“We went home. Uh. Mrs Roseby was being an old ratbag as usual.”
“Yes, yes. But what else?”
“Walter came to the door?”
“Exactly. We got a third Time Keeper back. We couldn’t have done it if my Spectrel hadn’t shown how dire our plight was.”
“So can I order some Jamaican chicken patties, then?”
“I forgot I’d not fed you in a couple of hours. Please, be her guest.”
“I assume the Spectrel’s house-bots heard that. Where’s Dave?”
“Wait and see. I have some lab reports to receive. A report on that bit of metal you took from the alien headquarters. Ah, here we are.”
The area in front of the console lit up in a three-dimensional picture. Kevin recognised the piece of metal he’d stolen from the illegal aliens’ den.
“She’s had a chance to analyse the composition of the metal. The alloy mix and traces of isotopes should be so specific that we can get an exact match to a planet and culture.” The Doctor rubbed his hands.
“But, like, couldn’t someone produce a counterfeit?”
“Not quite as good as the original. They’d get some tiny little thing wrong. You’re inside the only machine in the universe capable of producing a perfect replica. Well, apart from her sister Spectrels. Even then, I bet they could only do it on a good day,” said the Doctor with real pride in his voice. “The writing on it is Squill, of course. Let’s just magnify that a bit and see what it says…. That first line’s just a part number. Aha! Oh. Oh, blast.”
“What is it?”
“Omnibase.”
“Omnibase?”
“Yes.” The three-dimensional projection changed again and two graphs with spikes appeared. “Mass spectrometer readings. Signature of the composition, if you will. Perfect match. Double-blast!”
“Well, who or what is Omnibase?”
“You know Home Depot?”
“Yeah, big American retailer. Like B&Q or Homebase back in the UK. Household fixings and stuff like that.”
“Same thing, except bigger. Much bigger. Quite literally the universal DIY store.”
“So you’re saying –”
“Yes, they did the whole kit and caboodle with bits and bobs from a discount retailer. These people are smart, Kevin. And budget-conscious too, damn them.” The Doctor thought a moment. “And probably with a lot of valuable reward points to redeem, come to think of it.” He addressed the projection. “Make sure you monitor any large reward point redemptions from Omnibase. Now, what about the results for the sample from the mandible?”
“You got the mandible from one of them beetles? Where from?”
“Doctor Peterson saved it from the aftermath of the explosion in the bunker. She handed it in to Imperial, which is her alma mater. It was intercepted. I cut a sample off and put it in my pocket for analysis.”
“Where’s the rest of the mandible?”
“At home, but it’ll go in the trophy cabinet.”
“You’ve got a trophy cabinet?”
“Of course. Well, more of a trophy room.”
“Cool, can I see it?”
“One day, lad. Be patient. Now, here are the results.”
A string of text and numbers in an alien language appeared in the projection, together with a few diagrams of such complexity that Kevin didn’t bother taking them in. “What’s the verdict?”
“Synthesised from a beetle living on a hydrocarbon-rich but oxygen-deficient planet, as I’d thought. That species of beetle was left there by miners millions of years ago, and it adapted nicely. These guys just reengineered the size. The cutting edge, as I suspected, was derived from Tsk technology and bioengineered. Incredibly clever. Absolutely untraceable. Again, I’m flummoxed.”
“What about the plastic flower?”
“You’re right. Let’s not get too bogged down in the disappointments. She’s had the flower for a little while now. Let’s see.”
An enlarged version of the plastic flower the Doctor had put in his pocket was projected into the Spectrel’s control room, along with a graph similar to the ones that had just appeared.
“Unknown trace. Unique. Well that’s at least something.”
“But that’s terrible – you’ve no idea who it is!”
“Ah, but just as importantly I know who it isn’t. That’s valuable. I just closed a few dead-ends. The only question is the technology. How they got that.”
“Whoa, Doc. You’re missing something big here.”
“What’s that?”
“They got a Chinese factory here on Earth to produce this thing!”
“I understand your cause for alarm. But that merely involved the insertion of a microscopic chip. It’s not even connected to the main circuitry in the rest of the flower. It generates current by induction caused by the movement of the leaves through the Earth’s magnetic field.”
“Pretty powerful for something so small, though.”
“Oh, you’re right there, lad. And if you get enough of these things activated together then there might be some big trouble. This is part of a bigger plan. A much bigger plan.”
“Good afternoon, gents,” said a familiar voice behind them. There was a familiar cough too – but it didn’t sound as bad as it had a few days before.
Kevin spun round. “Dave!”
“Hello, my son,” said David Where. He was wearing white pyjamas and slippers, with a white dressing gown over the top. Kevin grabbed him in a hug. “Steady on, fellah. I’m just out of my death bed. I’ve got a load of physiotherapy to do before I can get me chit back.” Trinity purred and nuzzled against his calves. As Kevin relaxed his grip, Where reached down to stroke Trinity’s head.
“David,” said the Doctor. “How good to see you. My Spectrel says you’ve made a good recovery.”
“Thanks to you guys for saving me.”
“It was a pretty stupid stunt you pulled. You’re lucky to be alive, cousin.”
“Yeah. I’m sorry. I put the whole mission in jeopardy. I can’t apologise enough.”
“Well, you’ll be glad to know your own Spectrel was instrumental in saving us shortly afterwards. We’d have fried had it not been for her.”
“How is she?”
“Not that happy, but she’s recovering. David, really…”
“I know. I abused her trust. I’m a reformed character. Given up the smokes for good. I’m with the team now, Peter. You can count on me.”
“Yes, you said that just before you pulled your daft stunt in the middle of a fight.”
“Please, just drop it, will ya? You survived. How did you get on, Kevin?”
“He fought like a lion,” said the Doctor. “He and Trini make a great team.”
“Thanks, Doc,” Kevin glowed with pride. “The Doc gave me some great gear to crack on with – a suit and a Con-Bat. But if you’re looking for the star performer, that was Trin. She is just wicked.”
Trinity meowed her appreciation and swished her tail.
“Glad you were steady in your first rumble. Good lad,” said Where, and squeezed Kevin’s shoulder. “You’ll have to fill me in on the details later. I shall want a blow-by-blow account. Tell me – is anyone else in?”
“Yes,” said Kevin. “When. He pitched up just after we got back home.”
“Walter? Oh, that’s just terrific.” Where gave a dispirited laugh. “Just what the Doctor ordered. Not.”
“Well, it’s better he’s in than out,” said How. “That’s half of us now. And it looks like we might need someone who’s good with minutiae.”
“Oh, really? And what minutiae would that be?”
A house-bot appeared through the door by which Where had entered. It was carrying a brightly polished dome. It hovered at chest height in front of Kevin. He took the lid off and the room was filled with the smell of fresh Jamaican chicken patties. Without asking, Where helped himself to one and took a bite.
“Solid food at last,” said Where.
“Well you still need to lose some weight, so don’t get used to those patties,” said How.
Kevin took the remaining patty and the house-bot left the room. “Three more, please house-bot,” called Kevin. “And an OJ for me.”
“Coke for me,” said Where, but was caught by a look from hi
s cousin. “Oh, alright, make it a diet water or something.”
How ignored his companions’ eating. “These are the minutiae,” he said. He held up the plastic flower. “I’ve disabled this one. Solar-powered, made by an unwitting factory in China, distributed in the UK in large numbers. They cause a local time disruption. My Spectrel’s just completed the analysis.”
“Looks like the kind of mad thing that you-know-Who would have told the scriptwriters,” said Where. “You know, killer dolls sorta thing. Garbage cans like Pacman, chasing people around the suburbs of North London.” He nudged Kevin, who laughed. “Loony Tunes kinda stuff from when he was totally off his rocker.”
“Don’t ever joke about those Pacman garbage cans – you weren’t chased by one.”
“Straight up – you were chased by a garbage can, Doc?”
“You bet your life I was. By three of them, in fact. And they weren’t clean either. Can you believe those things didn’t even have disposable liners? They were totally feral, and utterly filthy.” The Doctor shuddered. “And it was summer. Oh, the stench.”
“You know what?” said Where to Kevin, through a mouthful of patty. “Getting a bit of dirt on him would have been a fate worse than death for young Peter.” He chuckled.
“This is no laughing matter. And if you ask me, I think we’re supposed to think that these are mad-cap threats,” said How. “It’s already having the effect of making you downgrade the threat subconsciously. Whoever’s behind this is a force to be reckoned with.”
The house-bot arrived back with more patties. How took one and chewed slowly before continuing. “There’s more to this than meets the eye.”
A new projection suddenly appeared. The Doctor stopped eating and went over to look at it.
“Oh, triple-blast,” he said.
“Wassup?”
“One of the polyps has killed a couple of people in the MI6 building in Vauxhall Cross. And there’s us just having let the cat out of the bag with those photos of Trin and Tim. If either of you has a weak stomach, I’d look away now.”
Images of the scene of the killings filled the projection.
“Aw, man,” said Kevin. “What a way to go.”