On stepping through the portal, the party of time travelers experienced the same disorientation, and then a jolt as they rematerialised in an entirely different place. A place that, if it were not hell itself, was certainly hell adjacent.

Everywhere they looked was dirt. Clearly, these were fields that had been churned up to mud, all grass destroyed. And then in the heat of the day - and it was hot, a midsummer heat - the mud had baked hard, with mis-shapen clods of earth lying atop the uneven ground. All around were holes. Some were clearly man-made, with perhaps a few sandbags atop them, and were large enough to accommodate a couple of people. The majority, though, were strewn with debris and shrapnel, formed by large explosions. There was barbed wire crawling across the landscape in an unpleasant way, with scraps of cloth attached where someone had ventured too close to the horrible spines.

The sky was almost entirely cloudless, and there was no breeze. It was a heavy, hot, summer afternoon. The heat made the smell worse. There was a strange stink. A combination of sulphur, garlic, and mustard, that caught in the throat and nose unpleasantly. There was something else, though. A strangely sweet and repellent odour that came from everywhere at once. The smell of decay. Rotting meat and vegetation.

True to their promise, the Time Lords had arranged for them to arrive where nobody else could see them. But they were not entirely alone. A few feet away was a body. He wore a drab greenish uniform, and had on a simple round metal helmet. Sturdy brown boots, and a harness of many pouches formed the rest of the outfit. He was lying on his front, sprawled in an ungainly and apparently lifeless manner. Beside him was a single shot, bolt action rifle. It was not intact. Something had hit it with enough force to shatter it into two halves.

In the distance there was a constant sound of explosions. Given the look of the place, it could only be an artillery barrage, but by whom, and upon what target, was not clear.

Where were they? With the exception of Leela, who had never experienced the event, nor been at school where the history might be taught, everybody else would know something of their plight. Even Victoria had been at school in the 1960s, and both of the major wars of that century were so deeply ingrained in culture that she could not help but know a little of the events.

They had arrived during the Great War, the War to End All Wars - the First World War. But where, exactly? And when? This blasted wasteland could have been in Flanders, or in Turkey, or who knew where else. Without any frame of reference, all they could do was speculate.

This was a very bad start to their mission. Nobody in their right mind would want to live through this brutal war. And yet, Mortimus was supposedly close by. What could he possibly be up to here?

At her appearance, Victoria suppressed a scream.  A dead warrior, and she had no doubt which war this was.  In her time, war was a distant thing, not the ugliness she saw here.  How could mankind have evolved into this?  Of course, she was too young for the Crimean War, or the Boar War, or any other war.  But this desolate, awfulness... how could men create this?

"Oh, Lord above... how could we come here?" she exclaimed, looking up as if to wonder if some horror would fall on her from this.

Then, she saw the dead man, and then she screamed.

As they appeared, Leela drew her knife and looked around for any threats. The enviorment looked very hostile, but there were no immediate threats. She moved towards the fallen soldier to see if he was alive. "Where is here?" she asked Victoria. "It is very loud... is that natural?" she added, referencing the explosions.
She looked towards the rifle for a moment. The sevateem did not know how to make gunpowder weapons, but she was a quick study and had been using laser rifles before she even left home. A quick glance discarded the weapon as unusable.

Amy stumbled as she appeared on the uneven ground. And as she took stock, she paled - although that was quite an achievement for one of her complexion. "No... no no no. Is this what I think it is? Is it...? Are we in the War? We are. We're in the war. Why are we here? Why would they send us here...?"

Of course, the one person who had all the answers was the one person who was absolutely not here. Or anywhere else, for that matter.

Victoria's scream snapped her to her senses. She quickly stepped over to join her, and laid a hand on her arm. "Easy now! It's all right. It's a shock, I know, but I don't think he can hurt us, and whatever killed him isn't here now. You can do this. You've been through worse."

She had no idea what Victoria had endured in her time in the TARDIS, but she was absolutely certain: she had been through worse. They all had. A blasted wasteland with a single corpse was just a dull Wednesday afternoon compared to most of their adventures.

She added for Leela, "This is the First World War. Probably the worst war humans ever fought against each other. Some wars killed more people, but this was the cruellest. Millions died through pride and incompetence and if we're here, Mortimus is interfering. He'll just make it worse." She looked towards the sound of explosions. "Bombs. Both sides just sat in holes and spent days throwing bombs at each other, as if it would make things better. It just made the hating worse."
This message was last edited by the player at 10:02, Wed 26 Oct 2022.

Harry Sullivan had come crashing to the ground with a hat in his hand, and looked out to see that he had nearly fallen across barbed wire. The panic was clear on his face, and it only increased when he turned to regard the dead body from a level with it. At the same time, though, all of this was a little bit old hat to him--or, well, he had just been somewhere that was rather similar to the battlefields of the Great War on Skaro. So without further fuss he stood himself up, being careful of the wire and delicate with regard to the body.

Turning to Leela briefly, he brushed dirt off of himself and responded to her question, saying, "It is quite natural. But I think after we've all been here, when we get back home we all ought to have a physician check on our hearing. It will likely get much louder!"

Harry knelt back down all over again and turned the fellow over, checking the body to see if he could determine what might have killed him. Before he did so, however, he looked over to the others with a hand over the shoulder, as if to say, You don't have to look.

"You have got to be kidding me!" The others heard from Susan as she stepped out into the blasted lands of humanity's First World War. "Of all the awful times and places..."

She stopped and looked around to see if she could get a sense of where they were but also, on whose lines. There were awful places in time and space but this was one of the worse.

"We need to find some cover," she told Leela, knowing her for a warrior. "If someone sees us they will open fire before they think to ask who we are. We're behind lines that belong to someone who might not be very pleasant when they see a group of people who look like us. And we need to find out exactly where we are."

Not that there were many places in Europe that were desirable at the moment. This time was fraught with deadly complications so the sooner they found where they were, got what they needed, and got out, the better.

When Leela and Harry moved closer to the body, it did something surprising. It moved. Just a twitch of the hand. It was entirely possible that the poor fellow was not yet dead. He did smell particularly unpleasant, however. And nearby were some footprints, different to the vast number of sun-baked human sized prints that were all over the churned earth. These prints were a whole order of magnitude larger, and sported what appeared to be three very sharp claws instead of toes.

Victoria doesn't see the hand move.  She doesn't want to see it move.  She is too mesmerized by the the battlefield.  All the dead, all the sound.  She puts her hands to her ears, dropping her bag.  She is frightened and the help of her companion does nothing to make her feel frightened out of her wits.

"Oh God, help me?  Why am I here?"

The hand movement hit Harry like a jolt, and he tripped briefly over his own feet, before scrambling to grab the man's hand. He tried to pull him off the ground, looping the arm over his shoulder. He didn't know if the man could be saved, but he certainly intended to try. He had left a friend behind on Skaro not knowing then whether she was fine or not, and friend or not, this didn't agree with his principles. As he lifted, he tried to discern what sort of uniform the fellow was wearing, in case he might recognize it.

"Well, whatever cover we find, we'll find it with this man! Someone help me with him, and someone help Victoria, we very much need to get moving as Leela just said."

The urge to help the man was laudable, but he was probably beyond any help available to medicine of the age. His uniform was that of a British Tommy, a lance-corporal in the infantry. And once he was turned over, the extent of his injury was revealed.

He had a truly horrendous gash across his torso, which looked like it had been applied by three enormous claws. His blood had dried black on the cloth, and he had lost a lot onto the ground as well. Worse yet, to a trained doctor, it was clear that he had advanced gangrene. He had probably been lying there for a couple of days or more, and was barely coherent. His eyes rolled in his head, and he gurgled out, barely legibly, "D... dis... dispatches..."

And his head lolled grotesquely. Unconscious, maybe. Dead, quite possibly. There were no weapons on Earth that were used in this war that could inflict injuries of this kind. Something with large claws had obviously attacked him. And it had not eaten him. That was probably worse. A ravening predator was bad, but something killing people for less understandable reasons was an order of magnitude more terrifying.

Amy hugged Victoria gently. "We're here so we can save the Doctor. He'd go through hell to save us, and he did on a pretty regular basis with me. It won't be easy, but you can do this. Do it... for him?"

She felt the same way, if she was being honest. She would do everything she could to help the situation, but it was not going to be fun. She expected it would be so frantic that she would not really be able to take stock until later. Still, this was not a prospitious start.

When Harry moved the injured man, she went to assist, opening her satchel of medical supplies (and pie) but stepped back at the sight of the wound. "Oh... what... what DID that?"

Great. The only thing worse than being trapped in the hell hole of the First World War trenches was doing it with big clawed monsters. Still, Susan was right. Lingering here would be a sure way to end up being shot at, or worse. Which was, admittedly, normal when out doing time travel adventures. But she did not have to like it.

Victoria took a deep breath.  "I... I am sorry.  I just was... startled."  She stood, her bag clasped to her chest with both hands as she turned to look at the destroyed landscape.  Some of the giant holes had liquid in them, and she shivered as she wondered what might lie hidden in them.  Fortunately, she didn't look to see the 'body' moving and speaking.

"Yes please, let us get away from here.  But which way?  What I read, and the maps I saw, perhaps south?  Friendly forces should be there, I would think.  And they would not shoot a girl, would they?"

She turned again, looking for any sign that might show where the 'friendly' troops might be.

"I am glad your ancestors won it" Leela said sincerely. Her own people had fought a senseless, hopeless war, but there was no shame in winning. Amy should be proud.

She examines the creature's claw marks and tries to use her skills as a huntress to identify where the creature might have gone. It would be easier if she knew what creature, though. She looked over at Harry. "Messages, I believe. We must deliver them." It was a matter of honor. It should be easier to tell where the soldier had come from.

"Some kind of war beast. In such a large war, I would think your people would find the most fearsome Scottish war beasts" she answered Amy. Not being familiar with Earth history, she had no reason to think the animal wasn't a local.

"They absolutely would shoot a girl, Victoria. Anyone behind the lines who isn't known or doesn't look local is suspect. Given the horrors of trench warfare, those things that are suspect are greeted...poorly."

She stopped to look at the tracks. "Hmmm...that's not right for this time and place. Definitely not Scottish, Leela. Not from Earth at all, I would wager. Let's not meet it if we can avoid it, yes? Beasts or bullets will ruin our day rather quickly."

She patted the pocket she had put the Sonic Screwdriver in then looked around for someplace to go that wouldn't get them shot.

She was so intent on the tracks that she had failed to notice the not-as-dead-as they-thought soldier.

Victoria shivered, then looked around.  "South, I think.  Are not the forces south?  More or less, I know, with the trenches as they are.  If we go south, we find the English and French.  That is what the school books say."

She looked around, still shivering.  "And soon, I suspect.  I should not wish the... bombs... to fall on us here."

Harry gripped the man's hand as he began speaking, as he began to pass on. He gripped the hand tightly, to let him know that, at last, he was not alone, in what one must hope would be the final moments of his life. He let go of the hand and started searching the body for any dispatches. As he did so, he spoke to the others, recommending a course of action:

"Well, if we're to get to safety, the British and the French make sense--but we should be loud and obvious, hands in the air so they can see we are unarmed, shouting something like, er...'Help!' I don't believe I've met a soldier yet who would answer the cry for help with a bullet--at least, not without cause."

Harry's search of the poor man's body revealed a few things of interest. Firstly, a pouch of dispatches, which was really just a large coarse brown envelope. But also another envelope of somewhat better quality. It was marked TOP SECRET: FAO GENERAL CARRINGTON.

He also had his identity papers, and his bayonet, which was undoubtedly a better weapon than Leela's carving knife. The soldier had not even had time to draw it and affix it to his rifle.

Other than that, he merely had the usual soldier's equipment. A water bottle, some decidedly inferior rations, and a small black and white photo of a pretty girl.

It was not much of a legacy for someone who had come to fight for what he believed to be right. But that was the way of this war.

Amy gave a tight smile. "Most fearsome monster in Scotland is the women! There's a good reason the Romans couldn't conquer us!" She had considerable national pride, of course, but was not entirely wrong. Celts, Picts, Scots... the tribes of Ancient Briton had fielded their women as warriors, every bit as fearsome as their menfolk. And for Romans, killing a woman - or even worse, a virgin woman - was a major taboo. Watching a horde of half-naked, woad-painted screaming harpies descending upon them would have seriously undermined the morale of the Roman army.

She considered the revalation of dispatches. "Here, let's open them up. We need to know what is going on, and there could be something in those that lets us know what's up. I don't fancy going after a rogue Time Lord completely ignorant. And it should tell us exactly where and when we are, too. There's some places we really don't want to be in this war." Which led to the subject of which way to go. "Why don't you look at that wee time scanner thing? That fella said it would point to Mortimus, right? No point us going south to the British lines if he's holed up with the Germans. But you are all right, we can't stay here. We might run into soldiers, and we can be sure they'll be suspicious. We don't look much like a patrol! And then there's that..." She glanced very quickly at the dead man, not wanting to fix his wounds in her memory. "If whatever killed him is still out here, we definitely need to leave!"

Amy was brave, as far as she could be. She would quite willingly take on foes, and regularly did things that made her husband exasperated with her recklessness. But she was not stupid, either. Monsters with great big claws were not the Roman Army, and were unlikely to be intimidated by a Scotswoman cursing at them. Being almost anywhere else was definitely a priority.

Harry takes each item quickly and stuffs each into various pockets of his clothes, passing the bayonet to--who else?--Leela. He shot up, tripped again, shot back up and said, "We need to be moving. Hands up, unarmed, so they can see that we're not threats. I think that's our best chance. Anyone disagree?"

"No, not at all," Susan told Harry as she kept looking around for something to give them an idea as to where they should go.

"We must be extra cautious as those tracks would indicate there's something more dangerous than trigger-happy soldiers lurking about. Shall we make haste out of this area. do what we came here to do, and be off before we're exposed to the horrors of trench warfare?"

She was back in it now, despite her very real desire to return home, kiss her husband, and cook a nice meal with the bounty of their garden. There was nothing for it but to press on.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:31, Fri 18 Nov 2022.

Victoria sighed.  Fortunately for her, nothing else had happened to make her scream.  Still, she looked at the soaked ground, the water-filled artillery holes that were the result of shells falling and the low water table of the Flanders allowing them to fill.  She didn't realize that almost as many men died of drowning then died from bullets in this region.  To know that would have done her little good.  Any more than knowing how many good brits died at Balaclava.  War was no place for a gently-reared Victorian girl.

"Well, let us go then.  We need to find someplace, I suspect, and the longer we stay, the longer for shells, bullets or flying machines and blimps to come and harm us."

And with that, she started to where she thought was south.  Hopefully it was.  Or hopefully, someone would correct her as she carefully picked her way across the moonscape of no man's land...

The plan to walk safely would have been a good one, but fate decreed that it was not to be. From round one of the large mounds of mud, there appeared several men. One man had a slightly better uniform and a luger pistol, while the rest had rifles. Five men, one officer. And those guns were aimed right at the time travelers!

"Achtung! Hande hoch! Hande up right now!" The slight time delay on translation from the German showed that while the Time Lords kept their promise to translate, there was a small time delay.

The soldiers looked like they had no sense of humour at all, and were in uniforms that had seen better days, from the tears in their trousers, to the dents in their fearsome spike-topped helmets.

"What have we here? What sort of..." The officer broke off and stared at Amy, then at Leela, with a combination of disbelief and sheer horror. Legs. LEGS! These dreadful women had legs! It was quite disgusting! And left him momentarily at a loss for words. But he found them again soon enough.

"You are prisoners of the all-conquering army of the Kaiser! You will be taken in for questioning!"

They had arrived somewhere and immediately been arrested for being where they should not have been. For those accustomed to TARDIS travel, this was business as usual.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:10, Sun 20 Nov 2022.

Not hesitating, and scared out of her mind, Victoria put her hands on her hips.  "We are not combatants!  We are civilians, and mostly women, as you can see.  Is the Kaiser so stupid as to want women as prisoners?  We are... We are lost.  We are not soldiers, as you can see." Of course, she had no concept that she was the only one with a fairly long skirt.

"I demand you let us go.  We are no threat to you.  No guns, no uniforms.  Let us go, you fools!"

The officer glared at Victoria, his pistol quivering slightly, as if in some sort of internal conflict. On closer inspection, there was something... wrong with the soldiers. It was hard to pinpoint what, precisely. Their faces were less animated than one might expect, and they had the sort of eyes one might expect from someone who had not slept for a long time. Bags under the eyes and stress were to be expected in such a horrifying environment as the front line of this war, but their eyes were bloodshot, and kept sliding in and out of focus.

"You... will be... taken for questioning?" The officer demanded again, but it sounded more like a question. He was unsure? Whatever was going on, the soldiers still had their very lethal weapons raised, and their dull expressions made their threat all the more terrifying. The time travelers had all got a lot of experience under their belts, though. They could recognise mental control when they saw it. There was no way of knowing who, what, or how these troops were being puppeted, but it was a pretty fair conclusion that they were not running under their own steam - or at least, not entirely.

At first, when they all showed up, he muttered to himself, "Blast!"

Well, then his hands went up, of course. He wasn't about to get himself shot over this.

Then he observed these men, and observed Victoria, and then observed these men further. These weren't your typical humourless Germans, these were mind-controlled humourless Germans. That changed everything, he thought.

Without missing a beat, and in fact without actually putting his hands down, he took a prominent step forward, and said, "Yes, I think we shall be coming in for questioning. Lead on, take us to your...er, your leader, who most certainly wouldn't be happy if we were to be shot today."

He was moving on.

Amy rolled her eyes, and raised her hands. This was a normal day when you travel in the TARDIS, after all. "All right, hands up, take us to your leader, kaiser, or whatever!"

She noticed the peculiar nature of the soldiers, and said, quietly, to Susan, who was closest, and the nearest approximation she had for a Doctor-shaped person. "What's with their eyes? Why do they look like that? Are they aliens. They are, aren't they? They're aliens. Why are aliens fighting the first world war?"

In the Olympics of life, Amy held the all time gold medal for jumping to conclusions.

Leela growled under her breath. Clearly she was out of practice, to be surprised this way. Perhaps it was the unfamiliar surroundings, the thunder of the guns. She knew that five men with lasers-she presumed lasers, since those were the guns with which she was most familiar-against one girl with a knife was a losing proposition. Fortunately, Harry took the lead, so she didn't have to be seen to back down. "Very well. With luck the questioners will be more... intelligent." She still gathered herself to spring into action if they started shooting.

It looks very bleak. While these soldiers are clearly not under their own control, whoever does have them in the palm of their hand most certainly does not mean well. And when the officer cocks his pistol, the rifelemen do the same...

And a shot rings out!!!



Or, it would be, were this a serialised television show. But life is not really broken down into such convenient, dramatic chunks. No, the story continues.

A shot rings out!!!

And the German officer clutches his back, his pistol falling from his hand. He falls to the ground, in agony, and his life ebbs away.

Suddenly, a hail of bullets follows, and each of the German soldiers, possessed by something one can only guess at, fall to the ground. They die silently. Even the pain of being shot does not waken them from the living death that were the remnants of their lives. They fall, puppets with cut strings.

And from behind the cover of two of the large mounds, more soldiers emerge. A half dozen British soldiers, in their drab ill-fitting khaki and tin hats. And with them, an officer. A lieutenant, whose fresh face and youthful willowy figure suggest he can barely be twenty-one. But such is this war. The experienced officers are either kept back from the front lines, or did not survive long enough to lead a patrol.

These soldiers, however, do not have the dead-eyed, immobile faces of the Germans. They are wary, and have their rifles held carefully, but they are not pointed at the time traveling adventures. The officer approaches, tucking his MK VI Webley service revolver into the holster on the bandolier across his chest, the cord securing it dangling down the front of his uniform. He speaks, and the Received Pronunciation accent is one with which Victoria especially would be familiar. It speaks of the playing fields of the Eton School, and scones and tea in the afternoon on the vicar's lawn.

"I say, I am terribly sorry about that. We've been trailing these Hun for a couple of hours, trying to work out what they were up to. When we saw they'd taken prisoners, we had to polish them off before they did anything unsavoury. I do hope you are all unhurt? I'm..."

And then he saw Leela. And his view of the world went from the certainty of a British Imperial upbringing, and down a dark alley he had never known existed. Amy did not get a much better reception. He just blustered. But after a moment, he barked an order, the soldier in him telling the totally embarrassed young man to take a tea break and let someone else handle the problem.

"Sergeant Mackay! Two ladies here must have lost their luggage to these uncivilised Bavarian barbarians! Jackets, if you please!"

The sergeant stepped forwards. He was no young idealistic boy. He was a grizzled man, probably in his late forties. A veteran. A two tour soldier who probably hadn't know any other life. He barked a curt order, his broad Scottish accent a stark contrast to the officer young enough to be his own son. "Walters, Ellis! Cover the modesty of the ladies!"

Two of the soldiers removed their jackets and offered them to Leela and Amy. Which was rather a futile gesture, since it left the vast expenses of nubile leg very clearly on display. But it is the thought that counts.

The lieutenant looked a little more composed. "Sorry we can't offer anything better. It's the heat, you see? No need for greatcoats in this sort of weather. We've got something better at Forward One, and I have no doubt we can get you back to safety where some ladies will probably get you something suitable. Might just be nurse's uniforms. Not much call for togs for the gentle sex out here, you know?"

He pondered for a moment. "We really need to finish this patrol, though. Can't have the Bosche slipping through the lines right now, far too much at stake. Sergeant, take one of the men and escort them to Forward One. Captain will want to see them, and get them out of the war zone. I'll finish the patrol."

With that, he went off, the patriotic zeal in his movement causing the sergeant to shake his head in despair. He'd probably be dead by October with that sort of attitude, but there was not a lot he could do about it.

"Ellis," he growled, "You stay with me." As the patrol vanished, the sergeant stuck his thumbs in his belt. "I havenae got a clue what you are doin' out here in no man's land, but ye're way too strange a bunch to be spies. I suggest when we get back, ye all tell the truth. Captain Farraday's got more sense in his little finger than the lieutenant has in his whole body. But orders is orders. You come along with us. We'll get ye under cover in less than an hour, and ye can give account of ye'selves."

He jerked his thumb back the way they had come. "And I wouldnae think of makin' a break for it. We wouldnae try to stop ye. Waste of bullets. Hundred yards yonder is a minefield we spent three months layin'. Ye'd be chicken feed before ye went ten feet intae the thing. We'll do this all nice and polite."

He did not seem to be especially antagonistic, and the soldier pair did not point guns right at them. But he also seemed to make it clear that they were not being given many options.
This message was last updated by the GM at 02:37, Thu 08 Dec 2022.

Amy was horrified when the bullets flew, and shut her eyes, expecting to be dead at any moment. But when she was not, she opened one eye, then the other. The contrast from the awful and strange German soldiers compared to that of the British was a huge relief. But these chaps did not seem interested in listening. She tried to interrupt several times with things like "But... what.. no, listen... please, just..." But it was to no avail. Before she knew where she was, she was following along with the two soldiers, glad to be getting away from the horrors of No Man's Land, but very wary about what they were about to walk into. In her experience, things got worse before they got better.

Still, she tried to make conversation. "Sergeant Mackay? That's a proper Scottish name! And that accent... you wouldn't be a son of Aberdeen by any chance?"

Small talk was a good way to get people to reveal things by accident. The Doctor had shown her that, and he was an expert. Over the years, she had picked up some similar skills. But a professional NCO in the First World War British Army would be a very tough nut to crack. She just had to try, and hope that a little shared national pride would ease the way.

Of course, Victoria dropped to her knees and screamed.  Bullets aimed at her (or her enemies) frightened her.  She had heard gunshots before, and alien shots too.  But not so close, and not at her, though they hit others.  So she creamed, and dropped.  And held her hands to her ears.  So she missed much of what they said.

But she saw the men go to cover Amy and Leela with coats.  That made sense.  But they did not come to help her up, so she stood up on her own.

"Please, we are lost.  Take us to safety?" was the best she could manage.  She looked around, but knew they were right.  She was alone with her friends in a war zone, and to stay was to be shot or bombed.  So she looked for the first man of authority.  That would be the Lieutenant.  Or the Sergeant.  Or any soldier that would help her along.  She was shaking, and tears were in her eyes.  Oh, what had she landed in?

Leela draws her knife, preparing to finish off any of the enemies who might stand up, but none do. "We are unhurt" she says to the new soldiers. "Impressive. Both stealth and fighting ability" she admits. These new soldiers were
She accepted the jacket, although a little puzzled by the necessity. Perhaps it was armored in some way. She put it on.
She went over to Victoria, wanting to offer support but not sure what to say when Victoria was so different from her.

Susan had traveled time and space with her grandfather and had seen and done things beyond belief but none of those things kept her from jumping at the gunfire that cut down the German soldiers who had been acting very odd. She waited for the fire to die down before coming out of her crouch and opening one eye to look around, then the other when she saw the British soldiers come out of their place of concealment.

She stayed silent and let the officer draw his conclusions about them based on their state of dress (or undress in some cases) and simply nodded at the young lieutenant and watched him leave to finish his patrol.

She sighed and turned back to the very Scottish sergeant as he told them exactly what he thought in the gruff tones she associated with every sergeant she had ever met, no matter the time or world in which the meeting had taken place.

"It would seem we are in your capable hands, Sergeant Mackay and have neither the need nor the desire to give you a hard time. Lead on and we shall follow," she told the man.

As the sergeant led the way to safety, Private Ellis came to Victoria's side. He looked at Leela nervously. She was close, and she was armed, but he was not going to be the one to point this out, as she looked rather unwilling to give up her blade without a struggle, and he did not get paid enough to get into knife fights with half naked women in No Man's Land. Instead, he just held a hand out to Victoria, and spoke with a soft Welsh accent. "Here you are,  miss, you take my hand. We'll get you out of here and you'll be right as ninepence in no time." He could not have been more than nineteen. Of course, by 1916 the British Army had started conscripting men from the age of eighteen, and a fair number had volunteered by lying about their age. Still, he looked far too young to be carrying a rifle in a war. But he was a kind, gentle looking young man. Not someone who should have been forced into battle.

Sergeant Mackay looked at Amy in surprise. He had not expected to meet anybody out here, let alone a Scottish lassie. "Peterhead," he said, "So near to Aberdeen as makes nay difference. Ye're a long way from home yeself, lass. I dinna ken how ye got out here without being spotted, but I'd advise not trying again. There's worse than mines and Germans out here."

He looked around with a frown, then clammed up. He picked up the pace as much as could be managed over the blasted terrain, but refused to clarify anything about his ominous statement.

By some good fortune, they did manage to get to Forward One without coming under attack again. The outpost was little more than a couple of wide trenches, and a few rooms made from duckboard and canvas. It was a forward observation post, from which patrols could be sent out. The sergeant led them into a damp, gloomy underground chamber. "Wait here for the captain. Ellis, you stay outside. Dinnae let anybody in or out, lad. I'll go fetch his nibs." He regarded his rescued charges with a gruff expression. "I'll see about some tea, and maybe some food. Not much more than bully beef out here, but I wouldnae see ladies fadin' from lack of food."

In truth, the journey had taken nearly an hour, in the baking heat of the sun. The dark, cool damp of the chamber was a blessed relief. It had a desk, a telephone, some maps, and a battered wooden chair. It was probably the closest anything could get to a formal office. The air was heavy with damp, even in the heat of the day, but the foul smell of gas that had hung across No Man's Land was absent, and though it had made throats sore, it had not been concentrated enough to do any serious damage.

The sergeant departed, leaving the group alone again.

With a gasp of relief, Victoria regarded the soldier, the boy, who was just a little older than her.  She glanced at Leela, then took his had and allowed him to lead her.  The warmth of his grip calmed her, and gave her hope.  He was not Jamie, but he was clearly a properly brought up lad, and that made her feel safer.

She gave her thanks to the young man when they arrived, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek for further thanks.  Then she accompanied the rest into the outpost.  She waited until everyone else left, then found a place to sit down.

"And I thought the Doctor landed in awful places.  Whatever can we do now?"

Amy was, as usual, fuelled with bold spirit and rapid action. It was usually her downfall. Reflection was not one of her top five personality traits. "I'll tell you what! We open that top secret letter!" She frowned and explained. "If this was just a normal war, I'd not read someone else's letters, but we know there's a bad Time Lord here, we also know that there's something weird going on out there! Those Germans weren't... normal!" She shuddered as she recalled their vacant expressions, and the silent way they all died. "They were like... German zombies or something! What are the odds that the top secret letter we took off a body in the middle of nowhere isn't something to do with all this? We've all done this sort of thing before. There has to be something in that letter that we can use! The sergeant clearly knows more than he's telling, too. I don't know if we'll get the chance, but if we can make him talk, we might get an idea what's happening. All we're doing right now is walking about blind!"

There was a fifty-fifty chance at best that they were going in the right direction. There was no reason to assume this time meddler person was camped with the British and the French. Maybe he was here to help the Germans win the war, and totally rewrite human history. They needed more information!

He turned to Victoria and tried to comfort her.

"All we can do is try to use whatever skills we've got, from our lives before and after the Doctor, and our wits, and try to come out on the other end of this whole matter."

Harry nodded, and went to the edges of the chamber, just to see if they were being eavesdropped on. He would only pull the letter out from his coat if he could ascertain their solitude down here.

He spoke in hush tones, so that only the others could hear, saying, "Well, we should read the letter, just in case. It might have something to do with all this. Then again, it might not. It should help us begin ascertaining who we can trust in this whole situation--countrymen included, hopefully."

The room was little more than a wood lined pit. No electricity, the only light comes from Hurricane lamps, or through the canvas that serves as a door. Private Ellis was outside, but he was talking to one of his friends, and not paying much attention to the conversation inside. Young, and trusting, he did not seem to think there was any need to eavesdrop.

There was no sign of any listening devices that were easily discernible. Certainly the sort of bugs that were an issue decades later did not even exist yet. Of course, if there were aliens about, almost anything might be possible, but there was no sign of anything suspect. For the moment, at least, they were alone, and unobserved, though they had only a little time before the Captain came to interview them, presumably.

Quickly, Harry pulled the papers out and began scanning them, motioning anyone else in to look over the very same papers as he read them.

The letter was hand written, in a decent and legible hand. It read:

June 27th, 1916
Abbeville

General Carrington,

Our agent in Bapaume has confirmed that the target is present as part of BRI Regiment 16. His duties are as a message runner, and he holds the rank of Gefreiter, an equivalent to our lance corporal.

It is currently impossible to carry out the assigned task. The Germans are so thick on the ground that any attempt would be foolhardy in the extreme, and have almost no chance of success. Once the offensive commences with troops on the field, those forces will be deployed, and it should be far easier to eliminate the target. As a runner, he will be exposed, and likely will not be missed until long after the deed is done.

I am still not entirely sure why such an insignificant little man has been given such prominence in the forthcoming offensive, but our agent in Bapaume assures me that he seems to be hardly more than a relatively unpopular little man with an equally little dog. His demise can hardly have any impact on the war, more important men die every day on both sides of the line. Nevertheless, I will write to you as soon as I have confirmation that the assignment has been successfully completed.

As ever, your servant,

Major Bruce
Intelligence HQ
Abbeville.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:20, Sat 31 Dec 2022.

Amy read the note. She read it again. And then she said. "I... I don't get it." There was nothing in it at all that screamed alien invasion or mind-controlled soldiers perverting the course of human history. "It says assignment. It means killing that man, right? It does, doesn't it?" She looked at the others, in a degree of confusion. "Who would go to such a great length to kill some insignificant lance corporal, when we're in the middle of a war? He'll probably end up dead anyway!"

She had expected to discover some great conspiracy to take over Earth. Instead, someone was going to kill a little man with a little dog. I mean, she really hoped they didn't kill the little dog, that was just terrible. It was possible this did have something to do with the time lord, some way of messing up Earth good and proper. But she wasn't getting the connection. She hoped one of her new friends had a better angle on things.

It was, in fact, a little bit hard for Harry to take his eye off the date, but he did and read the rest of the letter with the others. Hand pressed to the underside of his chin as he thought, to no avail yet, he listened to Amy Pond.

Then, when she spoke, he gave a sort of nervous, involuntary laugh. Shortly, he realized he had to explain himself.

"I should think not--he'll not likely die if he's on the other side, I mean. This is...well, it is about to be the Battle of the Somme, the French and the British are about to be massacred. Judging from that man's gangrene, it is likely the 29th of June today."

He frowned. "I can hardly guess about why they would want to kill some particular soldier on the other side, however.  Unless..."

Harry looked right up at Amy Pond, then across at Susan Foreman, with an expression of escalating alarm.

"Unless someone very important happened to fight at the Battle of the Somme. But someone who, in addition to being very important, was also just an insignificant, unpopular little man with a little dog."

He had it, he thought, but it was hard to say the name of this insignificant, unpopular, mean little man who was also one of the most important Austrians to ever live. Harry hoped he was wrong about this.

"This is comfy," Susan told the others once they were alone. She wasn't, despite any evidence to the contrary, being sarcastic as it was a great relief from the heat of the sun they had walked in to get to this point.

She grinned and tried not to laugh at Victoria's comment. "You're with his grand-daughter now so awful places are something of a family tradition. I should hope you know to expect this for the duration of this expedition we're on."

Susan agreed with the others about the reading of the letter and thought for a moment before gasping at the realisation of who Harry meant when he was done. "You're thinking...you can't be thinking...you are, aren't you? Oh, my - talk about mixed emotions."

She looked around for something to sit on to ponder what they had just heard.

"Yep, that's exactly who they mean which means someone really wants to muck about with the timeline a very great deal."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:45, Thu 05 Jan 2023.

Victoria looked a bit askance at Harry.  "Abilities?  I have none!  I am a scientist's daughter, a girl from the Victorian era!  Yes, I have seen Cybermen and Daleks and Abominable Snowmen and Weed Creatures and even Ice Warriors!  And even that awful man, Salamander.  But I have no..."

She stopped, as the letter was read, which allowed her to catch her breath.  She nodded at Susan's comment, knowing that the Doctor likely didn't even visit nice places, even when he thought he was.  It brought a momentary smile to her face as she remembered the Doctor prancing about when he thought he found a fun place to accidentally land.

However, the subject of the letter confused her.  Her background on the Great War was that good, and even the 2nd War was not a strong subject with her.

"Who do you mean?  The little man?  Who would be insignificant and yet important to us?"

Amy swallowed nervously. "Not again! I already saved his life once! I don't want to make a career of saving Hitler!"

She turned to Victoria to explain. "Adolf Hitler. Right now he's just this lance corporal, I suppose. But twenty years from now, he runs Germany, and he starts a war that will make this one look like a playground squabble. He sets up camps, and sends literally millions of people there to be executed just for being, like, Jewish, or gay, or anything else he doesn't like. It rips the world apart! Nowhere is safe!"

She looked at Susan, very worried. "If he dies now, no war. But... I know the rules! The war has to happen! I already saved his life once, in the future, because of that! The war changes the world, makes, like, the United Nations, and creates the technology to get people to the moon, and all sorts of stuff. So... do we have to save the most evil man in history... Again?"

It had been hard enough the first time. That whole weekend had been completely messed up. Her best friend turned out to be her daughter, she ended up tiny, riding about inside someone's head, and the Doctor had nearly died. Admittedly, that last part was pretty standard, but still... The only thing worse than meeting Hitler and having to keep him safe, was having to do it twice!

"Adolph... Hitler.  Oh!" She held her hand to her mouth in shock.  "The one who started the other war?  Murdered millions?  Conquered Europe?  Bombed England?  My goodness, shouldn't he die?  What a monster!  Why... why..."

She thought a long moment.  "Oh, my goodness, we have to... Oh, I do not know if I can.  Oh, I miss my Doctor.  Defeat Cybermen.  Defeat Snowmen.  Defeat Daleks.  Why can it not be simple?"

She sat on the ground, her face buried in her hands.

From outside, there came voices, and a moment later, the sergeant returned, with a man in the uniform of a Captain, though he still wore a tin helmet. This was the front line. Keeping brains inside was far more important than looking smart. Can't be smart without a skull...

He was probably in his thirties, his hair dark, as were his eyes. He had an almost stereotypical clipped moustache, and in a certain light could have looked rather like Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart - but then, a uniform, a moustache of the same style, and a serious demeanour could probably do the same for Leela or Amy. The Brigadier was something of a walking stereotype, but that was one reason he was so darned efficient in his duty.

The sergeant went to kneel by Victoria, and laid a hand on her shoulder. Gruff as he was, he was not the sort of man to see a girl upset and not act upon it. The captain, however, sat in his chair and regarded the group with a very serious expression. "I am Captain Farraday, and I am in command of this forward observation post. Sergeant Mackay has given an account of how he came across you, and I am not wholly satisfied with his story. However, on seeing you, I can certainly agree that you do not look remotely like foreign spies. A bunch of strolling players who got themselves idiotically lost, perhaps. Nevertheless, we have procedures. And procedures must be followed. We will start with the basics. What are your names?"

He produced a form from his desk, and a pen, and looked at them all very seriously "I can at the very least establish a few particulars, before sending you to Amiens where General Carrington will no doubt take time to make a far more comprehensive investigation of your presence here. We're at war. You can't treat the front lines like they were some exotic holiday destination, you know!"

Amy went to kneel by Victoria, and laid a hand on her shoulder. "It sounds like business as usual." Which was to say, they were in one hell of a pickle...

She rose when the captain arrived, and activated her default setting - slightly bolshie, with a side order of feisty. "Well, I am Amy Pond, and believe me, we didn't want to end up in that awful place! We were very lost!" Not entirely untrue, though she did not want to extemporise on how they got there in the first place. "I think getting to Amiens sounds like a good idea. You're obviously busy, and we don't want to take up your time."

"You cannot kill this man, but you could still hurt him" Leela pointed out. "A broken bone, anything he'd heal from eventually" Leela said before the captain came in.
"I am Leela Sevateem" Leela said, figuring 'of the Sevateem' would only cause confusion. "Do not worry, Captain. I was protecting them"

Victoria looked up and frowned.  "Just because we are civilians does not mean you are in Command, sir.  We got lost.  We were found.  But you cannot command civilians.  I knew a Captain, and he thought he could command us.  He could not.  Your mission should be to protect, not to order and make one leave.  We belong her as much as you, do we not?  And as a subject of the Que... King, we mean as much to the Empire as do you."

Harry focused on making sure the things they were discussing surreptitiously were quite hidden long before these fellows ever made it into the room. Then, when he got in, he found himself at the rear of their group, with all the others having stepped forward. He ruminated on what this Captain must have been thinking as everyone spoke, some of them quite forcefully.

Harry opted out of speaking at this time.

OOC: After some more bad asthma symptoms, I'm getting back into things again. :)

"Well, I can well believe that!" Captain Farraday looked at Leela with a degree of amusement, and a hint of respect. Scandalous as her outfit was, she was nevertheless an excellent example of someone honed to fitness. If he had a few of her, why, he might be able to do away with most of the soldiers under his command!

All the same, her manner of dress was far from appropriate. "Sergeant," he said, rather exasperated, "has nobody found decent clothes for these ladies? Aside from the fact that it must be highly embarrassing for them..." Which it was not in any way, of course, "... it is dashed difficult for the men! Some of the lads out there have never seen anything like a woman in such a condition, and we can't expose them to this sort of thing when we need them fighting fit!"

He would send boys as young as eighteen to be slaughtered in the most hideous ways the planet had ever devised... but woe betide they see a woman's thigh before doing so. That would be entirely inappropriate! The Victorian era might have been over, but their ludicrous double standards were still firmly entrenched.

And then Victoria spoke. As the Sergeant rose to help her to her feet, the Captain's expression changed. Her words... well, there were something to what she said, no doubt, and any sensible person would see that. But the British Army in this war were accused of many things. Being sensible was not one of them. And yet, his eyes fixed on her face now he could see it properly, and a very strange change came over him. His right cheek developed a slight tic for a second or two, and his eyes were, very briefly, a little out of focus. A touch of shell shock, perhaps? Or something more sinister?

"I... I understand." What, precisely? "And it is for your protection that you must depart here at once. You'll go to Amiens, and then you're the problem... the guests of the General Staff. General Carrington will have to decide who and what you are, but I've a sortie to organise."

And with that, he stood up, and walked out. "See to it, Sergeant. Take them yourself, I don't want them wandering off again!"

Gone! And in a manner so abrupt it almost looked like something had scared him away.

Sergeant Mackay frowned after him. "Ye'll have tae forgive the Captain. He's under a lot of pressure. We'd best do as he says. Ye should be glad. Most of the lads here would give their right arm to be going to Amiens, away from this place. There's a supply truck going back there. It's no' like a tram, but we can find ye space in the back. I should thank ye, this means I get a decent bed for the night - and half way decent food. Don't often get tae eat from the same kitchen as the General Staff." He did seem a little puzzled, however. Something had thrown him off kilter, and he did not look like a man who was easily put out. It was not easy to see what it was, but there was something strange going on at Forward One post. And he did not know what it was. Given that Sergeants tended to know just about everything about anything, that bothered him greatly.

Harry stared on in barely suppressed consternation at most of the conversation, yet when the change occurred in the Captain, Harry began really paying attention, watching the tic in his cheek. And then he said what he said next, about going to see the general.

Well, Harry thought that was a good idea, and when he had the chance, he turned to the Sergeant to express this thought.

"Ah, yes, that would be perfect. We simply must have, er, good beds and good food. I'm sure the General Staff will treat us well."

Amy looked after the Captain, frowning slightly. Once he was gone, she looked at her friends with some concern, and puzzlement. "What was all that about? First he's going to write down everything, then as soon as he sees your face, he bolts like a scalded cat." She gave Victoria another, more thoughtful, look over. "I don't think you look particularly intimidating. That was weird!"

She went to stand by the Sergeant. "All right, then. You deliver us to the top brass. We can get aquainted on the journey." Clearly, the Sergeant had been just as surprised by the sudden shift in the Captain's manner. That sounded a bit like a chink in his armour, and she was fairly good at burrowing into that sort of opening and getting someone on the side of the good guys.

Victoria was simply stunned.  The Captain she was referring too was 50 years later.  But he looked at her like she was a ghost.  Did he... no, he couldn't know her father.  Maybe he reminded him of a girl back home?

"No, it wasn't my face, I don't think.  But maybe he saw something that reminded him of something?"

She looked at the Sergeant.  "Yes, we are ready.  The battlefield is a horrid place.  I do wish to find some place better, as I suppose you do too.  God Bless You for your service.  And may this war be over sooner than later."

She looked at the others, wondering what they would do about moving away from their... their 'target.'

Sergeant Mackay frowned at Amy. "Not my place to second guess the officer." He was a sergeant, it absolutely was his place. He just put a finger to his lips, and moved to look out into the trench. Then he spoke, loudly enough to be heard outside. "Let's get on the move."

He led them to a battered khaki supply truck. He hopped into it, and covered a few crates inside with rough blankets. They were a far cry from comfortable seats, but they would be serviceable enough. He helped everyone into the back, taking particular care with Victoria, and even more care with Leela, as he did not want to get stabbed. He had not tried to take her knife, because he was not an idiot.

Once the truck rolled out on the road to Amiens, he spoke again, voice low. "I havenae a clue what is going on with ye, but I know you didn't wander out there by accident. There's something going on in No Man's Land. We all know it, but they're all too scared to talk about it. Men go out and never come back. Nothin' surprisin' about that. But them as does come back? Many of them are never the same again. They havenae been in a fight, but they have the worst shell shock I ever saw. I cannae fathom it. Like there's nothin' left. No personality. No interests. Aye, and no fear, neither. Captain Farraday doesnae want to even think about it. He's goin' mighty strange himself. You been sent to get to the bottom of it? Who sent ye? War Office, was it? They shoulda dressed ye right. I dinnae mean to tell ye ye're job, but the lot of ye look like a circus!"

Harry nodded as the man went on, and when there was a pause in the talk, he chose to neither confirm nor deny what the man had supposed. Instead, he leaned in, and he spoke to the man directly.

"I see. Yes, and if you might be willing, what can you tell us about these strange occurrences? Have you any idea what might be causing such a...change in your comrades? And, if you will, have there been abnormal deaths out on the field, as well?"

It was still warm in the truck, but at least it was better than the heat of the day. Amy drew the jacket she had been given around her, all the same. The chill she felt was not due to the temperature outside, but a cold shiver in her spirit. "We can't tell you who sent us, but they are definitely in authority. We're here to help. You can trust us."

Reassuring Amy was a far remove from her former confident behavious, but now they had privacy and they could really work on the one person they had met so far who had shown any sign of some sense.

Victoria nodded, as if truly agreeing with what Amy said.  "We would not be here if we were not supposed to be here.  Would any sane girl wish to be here?  We do want to help.  You're a good lad, and gentleman.  Please.  Listen, and make your own judgement of us."

She said this while still cringing at the sounds of distant artillery, of distant gunshots, the sounds of aeroplanes and soldiers.  What madness had taken over the world?  The books she had read in her short time at school had said nothing.  As a young girl, she had read of the Crimean War, and it was horrible enough.  That men fought in such useless battles, to die for no reason other than to told to do so.  was the Sergeant any different?

" I am still worried about your commanding officer.  Did I remind him of a daughter?  A girl he knew?  Someone here?  I wonder."

"We will find this mysterious thing in no man's land, and it will trouble you no longer" Leela said confidently. When Victoria asks if any sane girl would wish to be here, Leela looked slightly offended; she would.

The Sergeant considered the strange people, but they genuinely did seem like they wanted to help. The problem was, he had no idea what they needed help with. Just that it was pretty bad, and not what he was used to. He'd served in the Boer Wars. He had seen the sort of hell humans could inflict on one another, but this was new to him.

He was really going to get a shock in a couple of months time, when the first ever tanks arrived in the Somme...

He looked at Victoria and frowned. "The Captain has a lassie back home, he said. I havenae got a clue what she looks like, but she'd probably be ten years older than you, at least. Whatever he saw in ye, it is beyond my ken. As is the goings on out there." He gestures vaguely to the haggard scrub that they were thankfully driving away from. "Look, I have seen a lot of fighting. Men kill each other with bullets, aye and blades too. But the few bodies I saw that came back from that hellhole, they weren't killed by any man I can think of. Huge claws, that's what the sawbones said it was, after he looked them over. This is France! I've seen lions. And other things as bad. But they dinnae stop for a kip after lunch in a wee café by the Somme river! The lads, they reckon the Hun got a new secret weapon. Tame bears, or the like. I cannae see it myself, but somethin' is out there, and it kills anybody who tries to make it across No Mans Land on their own. And them that comes back alive... walkin' dead, that's what they are. Up and movin', but the soul's been sucked out. It's no place for a lady, let alone four of ye." He then looked at Leela again, and added, "Well, three of ye. I can fair believe ye'd have it on the floor as a rug by sundown if ye got the chance." He removed a small tin from his jacket, and started rolling a cigarette. "Ye want my advice, ye'll say hello to the General, then run for the coast, and never look back. I've fought many a battle, but this isn't war. I dinnae ken what it is, mind, but it isn't war. Someone let those beasties free, and if ye ask me, they're guard dogs. My da was a ghillie. I used tae go with him when I were a lad, when he was out with the hounds. I seen what they were like when someone came by unwanted. I reckon the things in the mud out there are the same."

And then he became more guarded in tone. "And ye heard none of that from me. You be wise, watch who you tell it to, as there's plenty in Amiens come back from out there, and they dinnae take kindly to strange questions. They say they got shell shock, but they've not been in any battle. I've seen the battle fear. Aye, felt it once or twice myself. That's more like ye get so full of the feelings ye cannae thing. They got no feelings in them left, and that's the truth. They give me the willies."

Leela nodded proudly when the sergeant said she would be able to hunt down the unknown beast. "Whatever dangers that creature might pose, it's only an animal, and can be hunted" she said determinedly. And yet, she couldn't conceal a certain unease. Not that she was afraid, but it would all be much easier if the Doctor was here to tell her where the creature was, what it was up to, its strengths and weaknesses, all the things he usually did. And if they were guard animals.... what might they be guarding? She had no idea.

"But what if it is not an animal, Leela?  What if it is... something else.  A creature of evil.  Existing only to hunt and scare.  And also to deflect us.  The Do... Our friend, he noted that things that cannot be explained could possibly be not of this world, or at least, unknown to most people."

She patted the shoulder of the soldier.  "I perhaps reminded him of someone.  A girl such as me might remind many of someone... a wife, a fiance, a sister.  I was told that war does that.  Do not worry.  But everything you tell us is a puzzle piece to perhaps find out what is happening here that is not simply an awful war."

"We've seen some things ourselves, Sergeant. We're sure sure what manner of creature is out there but we've seen the results of its activities. We've also seen the strangeness of which you speak."

She looked at the others before continuing. "I wish we could leave, Sergeant, but we're here for a reason which we really aren't able to explain to you at this time. I can tell you that we're here to help."

She hoped he understood what she was saying. He seemed like a practical man so maybe her vague statements wouldn't leave him frustrated.

"And we can't get sidetracked!" Amy said with some stress on the last word. For all the talk of monsters, and men becoming empty shells of their former selves, their priority had to be finding this Mortimus person, and shaking him until his teeth rattled, so he would tell them what he had done with the Doctor. Amy was optimistic. She felt sure this was all it would take. And once they got their hands on him, they could get him to stop whatever he was up to - monsters, and all!

"I hate to say it, but with everything that is going on, we might have to split up. There's a lot of ground to cover, and we've got very little time to cover it. Our friend," she used Victoria's term happily, "always said we were never to wander off, and to wait for him to come back. And I am pretty sure none of us ever did! And we solved the problems we faced all the better for it."

She sighed then, and looked out of the rear of the truck, at the blasted fields, baking under the summer sun. "Oh Rory, where are you?" She spoke to herself. But she was sure that, wherever he had got to, he was on the case. He looked a bit like an ineffectual goofball, but she had never come across anybody with more determination and courage. If he was on the trail of whoever was behind all this, she wouldn't like to be in their shoes when he caught them. He waited two thousand years to protect her. He wouldn't let something as trivial as the end of the universe stop him now!

The truck pulled up in front of a peculiar building in the centre of Amiens. One half was a large red-brick house with an impressive spire, the other a squat edifice in white plaster. "That's the King's Lodge," the sergeant said as he helped them out of the truck. "It's a few centuries old, had a few famous people stay in it. They reckon that Cardinal Rishloo was one, almost got assassinated here." his grasp of how to pronounce Richelieu was shocking, but no worse than any of the other soldiers. "Been abandoned for years, that and the big white house next door, so the General made them his headquarters when he got here. Pretty spacious inside."

Then out came a junior officer, with an armed escort. "Sergeant! You and your prisoners are to come to see the general immediately!"

"They're no' prisoners. They're guests. We havenae arrested them, there's no good rea..." But the sergeant was cut short.

"That's enough out of you! Step lively! And no funny business! My men will not hesitate to shoot you if you try to escape!" The lieutenant was young, and clearly very sensitive about his position. He needed to throw his weight around to feel good about himself. That made him a dangerous man. "Inside, all of you!"

<<To: Amiens HQ>>