`Doctor, I still don't understand how the Time Lords could pilot the
TARDIS if your dematerialization circuit doesn't work.' Jo Grant leaned
against the TARDIS wall and looked down at the Time Lord, trying once again
to determine what he was doing. `Surely that's like operating an automobile
when the battery cables have been disconnected. It just doesn't work!'
The Doctor grunted something non-committal from deep inside the
TARDIS wall, where Jo could hear the distinct sound of tinkering. He was
buried inside an open roundel, his frilled white sleeves rolled up well
past his elbows and his knees resting on his folded velvet smoking jacket.
Jo heard an electronic zap, followed by a shocked gasp as the Time
Lord was expelled forcefully from the orifice, his white hair singed and his
face coated in dust and soot. After landing loudly on his posterior, he
shook himself off and tried to pick off bits of dusty lint and spiderwebs
that had amassed in his smoky hair.
`Are you all right?' Jo rushed to his side and knelt down beside
him. `That was rather a nasty shock.'
`Yes, it was,' the Doctor nodded. `But the TARDIS will recover quite
soon.' He patted the floor of his ship lovingly. `Won't you, old girl?'
`Doctor...'
He smiled at her. `It's been a long time since I've given the TARDIS
a proper overhaul. Since I don't seem to be getting anywhere with that
blasted dematerialization circuit, I figured I might at least get started on
some of the other components that have been needing some work.' He held up
a small silver orb streaked with black soot. `This used to be the chronon
polarizer.'
`And what does it do?'
`Not much at the moment, I'm afraid.'
The TARDIS interior lights flickered momentarily and then blinked out,
eliciting a little shriek from Jo.
`It's all right, Jo. Just the lights.'
`Are you sure the TARDIS' warranty hasn't just expired?' she teased.
When the lights returned a few seconds later, the Doctor gave her a
rather cross look.
`That shouldn't have happened.' He pushed to his feet and began to
check console readings. `No, no sign of her about," he muttered.
Before she could ask to whom he was referring, Jo was distracted by a
soft whirring from the distant TARDIS wall. When she looked up, a strange man
looked back at her from the TARDIS scanner screen.
He appeared a little younger than her mentor (though from the hints
he had dropped, the Doctor was much older than she could possibly imagine)
and his gaze was persistent, almost unnerving. His slender ears swept up
the sides of his head past black hair sprinkled with a few early strokes of
grey and disappeared beneath a golden cap. His jaw was set firmly in a
determined fashion and his lips curled back in a mischevious smile. Under
his observation, Jo felt like a child being watched carefully by a parent
for any sign of misbehavior.
`Doctor, w-who's that?" she sputtered, pointing to the TARDIS
viewscreen. The Doctor took a casual glance, then snapped back to the
console with a scowl when he saw who it was.
`Hello, Doctor,' the stranger said with a voice as firm as diamond.
`Oh, no,' the Doctor grumbled loud enough for both to hear before
finally turning back to catch the stranger's eye. `Look, whatever you want,
I'm not interested. Wasn't that business on Exarius enough for you?'
A Time Lord, Jo realized. She and the Doctor had only recently
returned from a Time Lord mission to that barren world. Her first step onto
a real live alien planet had been an exhilirating experience spoiled quickly
by the Master's appearance.
She wondered what the Time Lords wanted now. Why wouldn't they just
leave her friend alone? Wasn't it enough that they had stranded him here on
twentieth century Earth, exiled on some charge she still couldn't understand?
Did they have to use him as their personal cosmic troubleshooter as well?
`Oh, but Doctor,' the Time Lord finally replied, hanging on each word
as if savoring every phonic. `This concerns you most intimately.' Jo shifted
uncomfortably as his gaze met hers again for a brief instant. `And you as
well, Miss Grant, since it involves the fate of your world.'
`Just what are you getting at?' the Doctor interjected.
`We have seen a great force unleashed in this planet's future, a force
which will be responsible for untold death and destruction. If not for your
prior interference in Earth history, Doctor, this particular disaster might
have been avoided.'
`What do you mean?'
`You will understand when you arrive, Doctor. The reason will be
unmistakably clear, even to you.' The Time Lords's voice took a sharper edge.
`This is another chance for you to make small amends for the crimes that
landed you in exile in the first place. Perhaps you shall even learn a
lesson from the experience.'
The TARDIS doors slammed shut and a groaning, wheezing sound began
to eminate from all around. The column at the center of the console began
to rise and fall. The TARDIS was taking off!
The Doctor marched straight up to the viewer and waved an angry
finger at the Time Lord. `Now look here. You have no right--'
`Your TARDIS will return you and your companion to your proper time
and place when you have completed your task.' The Time Lord relaxed and
smiled before continuing. `I wish you the best in your endeavour, Doctor.
We Time Lords have a vested interest in your success.'
The Time Lord's image began to fade when Jo piped up with a final
question. `Can't you at least tell us where we're going?'
The image returned to full brilliance as the Time Lord deigned to
answer her. `The Earth year 1993, Miss Grant, to a place that I believe
your people called Iowa.' Before his image faded away again, the Time Lord
chuckled and added, `Better fetch your wellies.'
The Doctor and Jo stepped out of the old police box onto a muddy
embankment. Dark clouds filled the sky and a light shower fell all around
them. From the looks of it, it had been raining for quite some time here.
At the Doctor's insistence, Jo had donned a pair of hiking boots, a woolen
sweater and a rain slicker she had uncovered in one of the TARDIS wardrobes,
though she wondered if hip waders might not have been a more appropriate
choice. She was grateful for whatever twist of fate had caused her to
choose jeans over a mini before leaving her flat this morning.
As she zipped up the red raincoat, she wondered if this was normal
weather in this part of the United States. When she recognized the tops of
houses poking up above the water's surface all around her, she suspected
that things here were far from normal.
The Doctor, cloaked in a bright yellow rain slicker and hat that
made him look like a lighthouse keeper or dock worker, scanned the area
with concern. He flashed a weak smile at her, then began to rub below
his lower lip with thumb and forefinger.
`You know, Jo, I've been accused of many things on many worlds, but
I don't believe I've ever been blamed for a flood before.'
A steady humming alerted them to an approaching motorboat. The two
men seated inside, dressed in the unmistakable green of army uniforms,
appeared to notice them, as the lead soldier pointed and his partner turned
the boat their way. A few dozen meters away, the lead soldier cupped his
hands and called out to them.
`Hey! You two up there! The town's been evacuated. What are you
still hanging around for?'
`I'm sorry,' the Doctor called back. `We've only just arrived.'
The boat floated to a near stop a few feet away and a youngish-looking
Hispanic man in US army fatigues hopped out to join them on the embankment.
`What do you mean you just arrived?' he asked in surprise.
Jo tugged at the Doctor's sleeve and pointed to the large patch sewn
above three gold stripes on the upper right arm of the man's uniform. While
the globe with wings emblem was different from the one she was used to, Jo
immediately recognized the initials and their significance.
`Doctor, they're with UNIT!'
The sergeant cocked his head curiously at her. `What do you know
of UNIT, ma'am?'
`More than you could possibly know,' the Doctor smiled. `I suppose
that's why we're here, wouldn't you say, Jo? To help.' He withdrew a
laminated card from a jacket pocket and handed it to the sergeant, whose
name he now noted was Martinez. `Sergeant Martinez, I'm the Doctor and
this is my assistant, Jo Grant.' Martinez perused the card and the Doctor
added, with a wink at Jo, `I am, or at least was, UNIT UK's scientific
advisor when Lethbridge-Stewart was running the show.'
`Your security pass is a bit, uh, out of date, Doctor,' Martinez
said as he examined the card, then handed it back to the Time Lord, `but
we've been expecting you.'
The Doctor arched an eyebrow as Jo dropped her mouth open in
surprise. Martinez stepped back a pace and offered a hand to Jo.
`If you'll come this way, ma'am,' he said as he began to assist
her into the boat. `I can brief you both on the way to HQ.'
As the boat carried them through what remained of Chelsea, Iowa,
Jo surveyed what remained. What had once been a thriving farm community
was now buried under eight feet of muddy water that gave no indication of
ever releasing its hold. One pair of homes stood out from its neighbors
though, abused almost beyond recognition by the force of the elements.
One's roof was ripped open, its interior spilled forth for all to see,
while the other's entire top floor was missing. Trees on both properties
were thrown about like toothpicks from a centrifuge. They were blackened
with soot and stripped of leaves and many branches. Jo could not imagine
losing her home and all her memories to such monstrous force of nature
and made a mental note to double-check her renter's insurance policy when
she returned home.
`How long did you say this unusual weather has been going on?' she
heard the Doctor ask, snapping her back to reality.
`We had a pretty nasty winter up the Eastern Seaboard,' Martinez
responded. `As a matter of fact, it was a pretty nasty winter all over
the place.'
`Could you elaborate...?'
`Here, have a look.' Martinez pulled a stack of thick manila folders
from a waterproofed briefcase. `We've called this stuff in from the National
Weather Service, the National Center for Atmospheric Research, the European
Center, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, you name it.
Everything you ever want to know about weather from the past year and more:
droughts, floods, Nor'Easters, floods, hurricanes, floods, tornadoes and,
as you can see all around you...' Martinez swept his outstretch hand around
for demonstration. `Floods.'
Jo chuckled as the Doctor flipped through the various documents and
satellite photographs. `Not afraid of a little water, are you, Sergeant?'
`No, ma'am,' Martinez replied with a genuine grin. `Just sick to
death of it. A backpacking trip in the Mojave Desert is sounding awfully
good to me right now.'
`Now that's odd,' the Doctor interrupted, pausing on a particular
chart. `Look here, Jo. The 1990 ENSO began to diminish, then last winter
it reversed itself quite suddenly and started to build in intensity again.'
`ENSO?'
`El Niño Southern Oscillation,' he explained. `The ocean waters off
Indonesia heat and cool every few years, which causes cyclical fluctuations
in your world's climate. Meteorologists call a warm spell El Niño, for
"little Christ child," because it usually begins in mid-December and brings
warm weather and rains to the people in South America. At the same time,
though, it causes droughts in other places, like western Australia and parts
of Africa, while increasing rain and snowfall in several other locations
across the planet. While you can get flooding from an extreme case, El
Niños generally just help reduce fire danger across the globe.'
`So...an El Niño's a good thing?'
The Doctor chewed at his lip as he puzzled over the diagrams
further. `Well, yes, in moderation. But look. This last El Niño was
on its way out and back into the normal state between El Niño and La Niña.
Now a La Niña happens when the tropical western Pacific waters cool and
the weather patterns take on some reverse effects. What happened is that
we had a long El Niño, though not of record length like this one in the
early 1980's.' He traced one wide spike on an NCAR diagram. `It was just
about settled down, maybe even getting ready to head to La Niña, when it
suddenly reversed itself and became an El Niño all over again. It's most
atypical.'
`Do you think this...El Niño might have caused the flooding here?'
Jo asked.
`Oh, undoubtedly.' The Doctor scratched at the tip of his nose as
he puzzled over more graphs and charts. `What I want to know is if it has
anything to do with why we're here.'
`Talking about here,' said Martinez as the soldier at the back of
the boat cut the engine. `That's HQ up the hill.'
The Doctor and Jo looked up above the sandbag-reinforced riverbank
to a brick school building surrounded by jeeps, humvees and a variety of
cobbled-together radio arrays.
Inside the Chelsea Junior/Senior High School, PFC Heer, the pilot
of their boat, led Jo down to the school cafeteria for a cup of hot coffee.
She discovered that the cafeteria had been converted into an impromptu mess
hall for the soldiers and the stragglers leftover from the town's evacuation.
Next door in the school gymnasium, some families had set up in tents and on
spare military cots while riding out the storms.
Martinez led the Doctor to the school's main office, where Colonel
Jeremy Sloan had set up shop. Walking straight on past the company clerk
with nothing but a nod of acknowledgement, the sergeant introduced the Doctor
to his CO and left the two men to talk.
`So, Doctor, what do you make of our situation?" asked Sloan as he
disengaged his firm grip on the Doctor's hand and returned to the relative
safety behind his desk of authority. He was a tall, gaunt figure, barely
old enough to be a veteran of the Vietnam War, a light frosting of grey just
beginning to reveal itself in his short-cropped hair. The pain hidden behind
his eyes was enough to tell the Doctor that this man had seen his share of
death, but his strong handshake and clever smile spoke of a man capable of
thoughtful leadership. The Doctor suspected discussing the current situation
would be easier with Sloan than it would have been with Lethbridge-Stewart
in his place.
`I've read your scientific reports,' the Doctor submitted, 'but
what I still don't understand is why UNIT is involved.'
`Then you haven't heard?' Sloan fidgeted in his chair and tugged
his uniform back into place. `There have been reports of some rather
strange phenomena associated with the storms. I didn't believe them either
at first, but I must admit, I've seen something strange out there myself.'
`What sort of strange, Colonel?'
Sloan grimaced, clearly uncomfortable with the conflict between his
own established beliefs and the strange curves the Universe would sometimes
throw his way. He stood and turned to the window's view of immersed corn
fields, unable to face the Doctor as he explained. `There's something evil
at work here, Doctor. Just your thing, if Lethbridge-Stewart's reports are
anything to go by.' Sloan glanced back over his shoulder, begging the Doctor
for reassurance with his eyes. `The American people might be getting a good
laugh from the stories in the supermarket tabloids, but the farmers here are
damn well frightened. They are also right. I don't know how, I don't know
why, but there's someone out there riding with the storms, controlling them.'
It was the Doctor's turn to grimace as an icy curtain enshrouded his
spine. There was something all too familiar about what the UNIT officer was
describing. He could only hope his suspicions wouldn't turn out true.
`How long?' the Doctor asked. `When did they first see him?'
`A few weeks ago, right after the flooding began, I think. You know,
some of them are convinced that, however crazy it may seem, that it's Tony
Bridgewater, the actor.'
`Tony Bridgewater?' The Doctor felt Sloan's eyes narrow on him when
he didn't register the name. `I'm sorry, Colonel. I've been a bit out of
circulation...'
`Well, ever since he was thought lost at sea off the coast of
Australia last year, people all over the world have been describing a being
associated with the freak weather events that they say looks just like
Bridgewater.' The colonel returned to his chair and leaned forward, looking
to the Doctor for answers. `Tony Bridgewater sightings have displaced Elvis
sightings in popularity. I'd have written that part off, but your colleague
believes it. He even believes Bridgewater may no longer be human.'
The Doctor snapped up suddenly. `What do you mean, "my colleague?"'
`Why, Professor Masterson, of course.' Sloan eyed him suspiciously.
`Don't tell me you didn't know he was here. He was the one that called you
here, I thought.' Before the colonel could say another word, the Doctor was
out the door.
He snagged Martinez by the arm and pulled him into the hall. `Quickly,
Sergeant. Show me where I can find this "Professor Masterson."'
`This way, sir.' Martinez took off at a trot with the Doctor right
on his heels. From the cafeteria doorway, Jo saw them jog by. Handing her
coffee off to Heer, she chased after them.
`Doctor, what's wrong?' she asked.
`If I'm right, Jo, a great deal.'
They turned a corner into the high school's science department and
stopped outside the chemistry lab. Inside, a man in a white lab coat stood
with his back to them, working on the far side of the room.
`Here you go, Doc,' said Martinez as he opened the door. The Doctor
stepped into the room and crossed his arms.
`Professor Masterson, I presume?'
Masterson set down a steaming flask with care, removed his safety
goggles and turned to face them. Beneath the white lab coat, he wore a
well-tailored Armani, a peppered beard...and a Satanic grin.
`Ah, Doctor, so good of you to come at last.'
`The Master!' Jo shrieked.
`And a pleasant day to you too, Miss Grant,' the Master acknowledged
as he began to remove his latex gloves, one finger at a time.
`I don't suppose you've told them your first name is "Bat"?' the
Doctor asked with bitter amusement.
`Come now, Doctor. You know it's not in my nature to utilize such a
ridiculous nom de plume.' He reflected for a split-second as he pulled the
right glove off with a snap. `More your the sort you would hide behind, I
would think.'
`Is there a problem, Doc?' asked Martinez, who rocked impatiently
from heel to heel.
Jo shielded herself behind him and exclaimed, `Only that you've taken
on the most evil man in the entire Universe as your scientific advisor!'
`Miss Grant, you flatter me.' The Master's calm, relaxed demeanor
clashed with the tension in the room. `However, I must assure you that I am
only here to help.'
`You? Help?' the Doctor scoffed. `Here to help yourself is more
likely.'
`Doctor, do you have any idea what is going on here, any idea the
mess you left these Earthlings in?"
The Doctor snorted defiantly. `You know, that's the second time today
someone has accused me of causing whatever it is that's going on here.' He
glanced casually over at Martinez, then back at the Master. `And how exactly
did you know I would be coming?'
`If you must know, Doctor, I did not. It was merely convenient for
me to suspect you would in order to avoid certain...questions." The Master
grinned up at him. "Though I must admit, I had rather hoped our paths would
cross again.'
`So would you like to tell me what you're doing here?'
`You mean you haven't figured it out?'
`I want to hear it from you first.'
`All right.' The Master put on his best look of concern. `Someone
is controlling the weather and causing these storms. His name, believe it
or not, is Achmael.'
The icy fingers wrapped around the Doctor's spine squeezed tighter
and a sense of nausea began to overcome him.
`Who's Achmael?' Jo asked.
The Doctor sighed and answered her in quiet resignation. `Achmael,
Jo, is a storm demon.'
`Storm demon?' Martinez laughed. `You're kidding me, right?'
`Oh, this is no joke, Sergeant. It's a throwback to an earlier,
darker age on my world, a being of incredible meteorological power created
for only one purpose: to kill.' The Doctor blinked and sighed again. `I
have encountered him several times on several worlds. Two centuries ago, I
encountered him here on Earth. Unfortunately, I made an error in judgment
and believed that he was finished, or at least that he would never return
to Earth. Apparently, I was wrong.'
`Somehow or other, he must have survived two hundred years, waiting
for the day when he could escape and unleash his power on an unsuspecting
Earth once again. Apparently, if the Master is correct, that has happened.'
A loud thunderclap interrupted his introspection. The two Time Lords
glanced at one another, then rushed over to throw open a window and witness
the growing storm. The sky that had showed small breaks of blue just moments
before was now completely grey and turning blacker with each passing second.
A steady rain fell, preceding a brilliant electrical display. Each flash
of lightning in the distance revealed the silhouette of a man standing at
the heart of the storm.
The Master grasped the Doctor's shoulders and turned him around to
face him. Looking up into his face with as much sincerity as he could
muster, the Master stated, grimly, `Achmael is coming, Doctor. What are
you going to do about it?'
Copyright © 1994 Michael "The Admiral" Zecca