Doctor Who Fan Fiction ❯ Geological Conundrum ❯ Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Doctor Who is owned by BBC international, as are the characters of UNIT. The character Dr. Weismann, Dr. Padyesh, and Dr. Alvarez Moore as well as other minor characters not in Dr. Who are my own creations, and mean no harm to the show. This story is fan fiction!

The Geological Conundrum

Part III Familiar Faces

By Trynia Merin

 

The door to Brigadier Lethbridge-Stuart's office slammed with a mighty crash. Professor Zachory Weismann had just about had enough of the Brigadier's adamant defense of the Scientific Advisor. Likewise, the leader of UNIT was on the verge of firing the appropriately eruptive explosives expert. The Brigadier was having the time of his life in sorting out the tangle of recent events. Not only had there been the strange happenings at Cheddar Gorge, but a new problem had just been entrusted to them.

Jabbing a button on his intercom, he cleared his throat and uttered, "Private Phillips, get me Yates, Bartlett and Monroe in here."

Within minutes the four top officers of UNIT had gathered into the sizeable office. Addressing Captain Yates, Major Bartlett and Captain Monroe, the Brigadier briefed them on the latest developments. "As you see, men, there has been an incident of unauthorized blasting at an old strip mine not fifty miles from Stratford-Upon-Avon," he began.

Captain Yates, a blonde haired fellow with a slender face, was the first to reply. "Shall we send some of the chaps to investigate?"

"Yes Captain, I had thought of that."

Major Bartlett took a drought of his strong NAAFE tea. "Sir, I had some of the men check into that this morning."

Surprised, the Brigadier regarded him. "What have the agents found?"

"Engletech... a private organization..." said Yates.

Moore happened to walk in. She surveyed the room of neatly uniformed officers. "Not interrupting anything, I hope," she asked.

"Dr. Moore, I must insist, this is a military matter," began the Brigadier.

"What have you all done so far, besides sitting here and talking of preparations? Why not send someone to negotiate, instead?"

"A good point, Dr. Moore," said Yates. "Don't you think so, Brigadier?"

Coughing, Lethbridge-Stuart tried to grip his temper. "Yes Captain. Since you two are so keen to investigate... I'm sending you Yates, to take command of the situation. And you Dr. Moore...”

"Me?" asked Moore, pointing to herself. "I didn't exist this morning, remember? I must insist that I'm a scientist... not a..."

"You are a fellow scientist... and it was your idea. Engletech should be perfectly willing to negotiate."

"Oh, very well," sighed Moore. "But give me some time to think at least."

Professor Weismann threw open the door to his lab. "How could they," he groaned.

The Professor's lab was a small cubbyhole, far smaller than the Doctor's or even Moore's, with one or two lab benches and a small computer. In one corner sat a radio unit complete with a phone. In front of the TV sat young Rajiv, excitedly watching the latest edition of Technology Today. But now the professor seated himself on the edge of his cot. Idly he flipped through several papers in his latest formula. "So he says my magnetic oscillating dynamo is inefficient," he grumbled as he recalculated his diagram.

Turning his head, Rajiv looked at the flustered Weismann. "What is the matter?"

"A nearly clean and exponential source of power, and no one to finance its development!" he cried.

"Can't be that bad. I just saw on the TV that Parliament may cut government funding to certain universities. At least UNIT gives us a job now, researching for their new explosives."

Angrily the German scientist dismissed Rajiv's words, "Bah, UNIT this, UNIT that! If I only stayed in Berlin like my wife wanted..." Here he resumed his vigorous recalculations. To his dismay, the error popped up in their bold black and white before him.

"Still, there are alternatives... if you happen to know the right people," said Rajiv, settling back into his easy chair.

"He was right..." Rejection blended with Weismann's pride, rising in a sinking depression. Naturally this dynamo had been his secret dream for the past ten years, and the truth in this Doctor's accusations and challenges needled him. Wearily he collapsed headlong onto his cot and wept.

Suddenly Rajiv sensed the silence and turned around again. He drew in a sigh as he saw the man simply crying there, and rose from his chair. "Zachary?" he asked, going over to his colleague and tapping his shoulder. "What's wrong? Come now, it can't be that bad, my friend."

"What I put into this place... it's not my life! This one thing... I dream of creating... and it's worthless!" he grumbled lying on his cot, wallowing in self pity for his shattered dream.

"Stop this silliness! I've known you for two years, and this isn't like you to let a crazy overdressed stranger you hardly know stop you!" scolded Rajiv, standing over him. "I get so tired too of the lack of jobs."

"Face the reality..." sniffed Weismann, turning up his head to look at Rajiv. "England sacrifices private ones like us to the whims of this state... and the army. If we weren't constructing their blessed inventions for war... they would scarce leave us any jobs to live on!"

"For the sake of what self respect you have as a scientist, Zak, don't relent. Remember what I said about knowing the right people?"

"Eh?"

"Some private investors are quite happy to finance ones like you and me."

"What? To make better biscuit makers?" quipped Weismann scornfully.

"I've been attending meetings regularly. There are many like us... tired of the system chucking us in the swim."

"Who? Where are these people?"

"Engletech," said Rajiv, standing straight up. "We don't have to be alone. Just yesterday, a physicist--Dr. William Price--said he needed a new source of power for his newest experiment. I told him all about your dynamo... the one that runs on geo..."

"Sh, someone may here you," hissed Weismann. "You told him about me?"

"Yes, we're in this together, aren't we? There's a meeting tonight... get your papers and come with me!"

Hurriedly he scooped up his papers and thrust them into a briefcase. The clock face pointed its gloved hands to the 4 and the 6.

All along the walls were placed cardboard boxes of rock samples. Overseeing the delivery to the Doctor's lab was the Brigadier himself. He turned to look out the heavy wooden doorway down the hallway. The door to Weismann's lab was shut firmly as usual. "For the last time," hoped the Brigadier. He'd had quite enough of the volatile physicist.

Stepping quickly down the spiral staircase came the Doctor. With approval he noted the delivery of his new rock samples. "What's keeping my electron microscope?" he asked, placing his hands on his hips.

"That's still a bit long in coming, I'm afraid."

With a toss of his head the Doctor inquired, "Where's Doctor Moore? And Captain Yates?"

"Slight bit of problem getting them off to the quarry... to negotiate with the Engletech people..."

"Engletech?" asked the Doctor, raising one eyebrow.

"A rather troublesome lot..." explained the Brigadier. "Using an old quarry for a blast site."

"Rather better than using caves, eh Brigadier," hinted the Doctor, picking up one of his molecular models and peering at it. "Oh drat... this is definitely not phenoalanine," he muttered.

"Let's not bring that up again," protested Lethbridge-Stuart, widening his eyes.

"Speaking of caves, sir," cut in Benton, carrying a particular box. "Here's the set from Cheddar Gorge..." he announced, handing them to the Doctor.

"Cheddar Gorge eh?" he asked, pouring over the rocks.

"A tourist site," clarified the Brigadier, thankful for the diversion from a sore spot between himself and the Doctor. "Where your assistant disappeared."

"Doc, there was a strange thing... we found someone in the caves..."

"Thank you for that refreshing update, Brigadier," recognized the Doctor sarcastically, oblivious to Benton's attempts to gain his attention. He still was a bit sore about the loss of his Assistant Jo, and although he'd had some contact with Miss Smith since the Dinosaur affair, he was still wondering if he even wanted anyone's help.

"My men are onto it, I assure you." put in the Brigadier. “By the way this girl claims to be your friend. I do remember you said Miss Smith is your assistant but she was wandering about without…”

"Don't know why I ever let you coerce me into allowing that girl to be my assistant. She comes in here... worming her way into..." just then he stopped and stared at Benton. "Who did you say about the caves?"

"Miss Smith.

Rather disapprovingly he regarded them. "And you mean to say you didn't tell me about this before? You say you ran into Sarah Jane in the caves? And you didn't tell me? What's she playing at?"

"Honestly Doctor, is she your assistant or not! If I have to go on cleaning your lack of red tape I'd never get any work done."

"Humph. Indeed." sniffed the Doctor. "As a matter of fact, why don't you bring her to me to find out for you?"

Lethbridge-Stuart picked up the phone.

The English countryside spread out in all directions, in a network of interconnecting green fields. Windbreaks of trees separated each irregular plot as mortar separates one stone from another in a rock wall. Hills and meadows rolled gently under the pastures, calm and peaceful.

Yet this tranquil, pretty scene was marred by the presence of a strip mine. Stratified layers of earth were exposed in the huge ugly hole in the earth. This abandoned mine now served another purpose. Instead of exploitation of the earth's resources, it served as a cheap test sight for experimental explosives.

Several Land Rovers pulled into the site. Personnel in hard hats scattered about, planting the next batch of explosives to be tested. UNIT was already arriving with a patrol. Major Bartlett had arrived with Dr. Moore from Cambridge to negotiate with the owners of the zone. Strangely, Moore could swear she had just seen Professor Weismann among the scientists.

"I don't see why the Brigadier won't just shut this place down," complained Dr. Moore, who was a stern upholder of anti-war principals.

However the Major replied, "Better to have UNIT test its weapons here under strict control than under civilians."

"Jolly rum thing," muttered Moore, shoving hands into her coat pockets. "Organized violence."

Sarah Jane Smith followed the Sergeant to a wing of labs. He stopped before one large wooden door and knocked.

"Come in..." burbled a Queen's English accented voice. Benton opened the heavy oak door to a huge room. Filled with a mixture of both old fashioned and new fangled equipment, the lab was quite unique. Conglomerations of Erlenmeyer and Florence flasks sat alongside Bunsen burners on various lab benches. A liquid chromatographer and even a transmission electron microscope stood on their own carts. Benton even noticed an old fashioned ormolu clock ticking away. The walls were whitewashed brick, with large windows set into them. Wooden shelves held a host of various glass stoppered bottles and polyethylene sprayers full of various chemicals, each neatly identifiable with a neat printed label.

“Doctor, at last!” she said, rushing into the lab. Before Benton could stop her she stopped next to a huddled over figure, busy at work examining a rock sample.

All of a sudden he rose from his work. For a scientist, this white haired fellow wore the most curious clothes; a black velvet smoking jacket with the cuffs of a frilly white shirt protruding from the sleeves, a cravat tie which was a multicolored strip of cloth, and black narrow dress trews. “So you're the one putting the Brigadier in such a fuss,” the Doctor said.

“Doctor, you can't imagine what's been going on in those caves… come again you probably know all about it. But I lost a week…” Sarah Jane paused, standing next to one of the three windows which permitted sunlight to enter the room through Venetian blinds. Judging from the vast range of scientific apparatus in this Scientific Advisor's lab, a person would gather he must be quite a researcher.

“Really, how interesting. But the fact remains you have quite a way of appearing at the most inconvenient time! Why didn't you tell me sooner you'd gone there?” the Doctor asked, striding up to her. He rested his hand on the nearest lab peninsula and regarded her with annoyance and amusement.

“Doctor, I'm not here to exchange verbal pot shots. You might act remotely glad to see me!” she started.

Indeed he was a unique figure. That frilly shirt was a tip of the hat of pop stars of the late sixties, particularly the Beatles and the Who. The deeply lined face and silvery locks framing it wrinkled with their usual joviality. “Sarah Jane, it IS a delight to see you as always my dear, but you could pick a more opportune time to drop in for a visit. And what's this about a missing week?”

“That's just what I was saying Doctor…”

“Er Doctor, the Brigadier wants to ask if she's your assistant or not…”

Rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, the Doctor walked around Sarah Jane to Benton. "Of course she is. I said so before didn't I?"

“He says so,” said Sarah, standing at the Doctor's side.

“But Miss Smith, you WERE found in a restricted zone without an ID. The Brigadier wanted you to sort this out Doctor…” said Benton.

“I… lost my press pass,” Sarah sheepishly admitted.

"I think," stated the Doctor, breaking the silence. "We must have a serious talk, my dear."

Slowly Weismann rounded the bend of the country road in his Volvo station wagon. Tires of the tan reliable vehicle spun crackling against a gravelly road bed. Still that irresistible voice moved in his mind. "Engletech. It is possible." So much of his life already whiled away in engineering labs and endless smudged blueprints. His heat pounded tightly in that small confined space between his gasping lungs.

Downtown London flowed thick with afternoon traffic. Minister to Parliament Ethridge shifted anxiously in his seat. The traditional black cab was quick, but in London traffic speed was not of the essence. In fact, even using public transport, one was lucky if he could go even a meter in a minute. Ethridge straightened his striped tie and adjusted his collar. He was dressed in a well pressed dark blue suit, indicative of a meticulous M.P. Drawing his leather briefcase onto his lap; he flipped open the brass catches. Deftly he riffled through several important papers inside.

Big Ben chimed quarter to four. Ethridge opened a manila envelope labeled "Technological organizations." Since the last session in the House of Commons, it had been his particular responsibility to research the progress of the latest government sponsored bureaus. One name in particular caught his eye. Engletech.

"I must bring this up at the next cabinet meeting," he said. His black taxi rumbled past several UNIT land rovers.

The English countryside spread out in all directions, in a network of interconnecting green fields. Windbreaks of trees separated each irregular plot as mortar separates one stone from another in a rock wall. Hills and meadows rolled gently under the pastures, calm and peaceful.

Yet this tranquil, pretty scene was marred by the presence of a strip mine. Stratified layers of earth were exposed in the huge ugly hole in the earth. This abandoned mine now served another purpose. Instead of exploitation of the earth's resources, it served as a cheap test sight for experimental explosives.

Several Land Rovers pulled into the site. Personnel in hard hats scattered about, planting the next batch of explosives to be tested. UNIT was already arriving with a patrol. Major Bartlett had arrived with Dr. Moore from Cambridge to negotiate with the owners of the zone. Strangely, Moore could swear she had just seen Professor Weismann among the scientists.

"I don't see why the Brigadier won't just shut this place down," complained Dr. Moore, who was a stern upholder of anti-war principals.

However the Major replied, "Better to have UNIT test its weapons here under strict control than under civilians."

"Jolly rum thing," muttered Moore, shoving hands into her coat pockets. "Organized violence."