Doctor Who_ Drift Part 4

Loud and clear. She couldn't do this, no way. She couldn't keep him from seeing his little girl - and for as long as he d.a.m.n well pleased. What was she going to do, s.n.a.t.c.h her own daughter away, tell her Daddy's going now? She would.

He was seeing the world through a haze, much worse than the storm he'd just fought through. For a while back there, following the lake sh.o.r.e, stumbling blind, he'd really wondered if he was going to fall and never get up. And now this b.i.t.c.h was making his head spin.

He shot a look over towards the counter. The clerk was making like he was busy, like his counter needed cleaning when he probably hadn't had a customer all day. Jerk.

d.a.m.n! The b.i.t.c.h had said something about presents. He could see them now, back in the car, probably buried under half a ton of snow. d.a.m.n it to h.e.l.l! And he could still hear her voice ranting and moaning from the receiver.

'What? What'd you say?'

'I said be at the house at four, not before, not after.

Makenzie won't want you hanging around, and neither do I.

You're here for Amber and that's it. And if I smell a drop of bourbon I swear I'll cut your visit real short. Be here for four.'

She hung up. Stole the last word, just like always.

Let her have it. He was going to see his little girl. But h.e.l.l, he'd have to get himself cleaned up, and maybe pick up something for her in the store here.

Curt dropped the receiver back in place and patted down his suit. Somehow he felt more uncomfortable than ever in this thing. Maybe that was why he felt the clerk's suspicious eyes on him all the time. Screw him, who the h.e.l.l was he?

Some hick storekeeper. The worst part was, the suit was empty of cash.

All he could feel was the bulge of the gun, stuffed into his belt and digging into his waist. The clerk might have been looking at him like he was some kind of sc.u.mbag, but Curt Redeker had never held up a store in his life. And he wasn't about to start now.

All the same, he had to get something for his little girl. No way was he showing up empty-handed. Itching inside his suit, he browsed the shelves furthest from the counter.

'Keep it loose and layered.'

Leela resigned herself to the shorter woman's attentions as she helped her on with the coat - a parka, Kristal had said.

Packed off into the care of this stranger, she was feeling more lost than she had done out on the slopes. Her instincts, however, told her to trust this woman and if she could not trust them then she was worse than lost, she decided.

Kristal stepped back and Leela waited slightly anxiously on her p.r.o.nouncement. She found herself wanting this woman's approval.

She had yet to make up her own mind about her new outfit, briskly a.s.sembled from the supplies stowed in various cupboards in this one upstairs room. The clothing had looked bulky, although less so than her furs, but not substantial enough to ward off the cold.

Now, Leela was beginning to appreciate the value of the materials. Her hands slid over the outer garments, testing every pocket and fastener. These were more than just cover-ings. At least she found she could move her arms fairly freely and the weight felt good on her limbs, nothing that would slow her down.

'These cultists were survivalists,' Kristal told her, so their gear is pretty much Army issue.'

'Why am I not white, like you?'

Kristal laughed - softly. 'I take it you mean your outfit. I'll have somebody bring up some overwhites from the trucks when they rotate the teams. If it means that much to you.'

'I do not wish to stand out like a sore thumb,' Leela declared, proud to have remembered one of the Doctor's phrases. She wondered then whether she had got it right, when she saw Kristal shake her head, a curious gleam in her eye.

'Welcome to White Shadow. Leela.'

'Thank you.' Leela didn't know what else to say. She recognised a sense of ceremony in Kristal's attendance and the sense made her hesitant in case she broke any tribal laws.

'What is White Shadow? Is that what you call this land?'

The smile of an elder stole across Kristal's face. 'No, Leela.

White Shadow is us. It's the name of our group of soldiers.

Our warrior tribe.'

'It is a good name. I am Leela of the tribe of Sevateem.'

Leela detected a stir of emotion in Kristal and believed she must have said the right thing. The small woman spoke back to her with a measured respect, as one warrior to another: 'And I am Kristal Owl Eye Wildcat of the Pasamaquoddy of the Abnaki.'

Excitedly, Leela pounced on a fragment the Doctor had thrown her earlier. 'Are these your lands? The Doctor said a n.o.ble people lived here.'

'He was probably talking about the Penacooks,' Kristal explained quietly. 'They were of the same nation, the Algonquin. These lands belong to a larger nation now, Leela.

Not necessarily a greater one, whatever my captain tells you.'

The woman's gaze roamed far and wide as she stood perfectly still. Leela recalled the way Neeva had succ.u.mbed to his visions and thought of how the Doctor always dismissed such hocus pocus. There were always scientific reasons, he said.

Kristal convulsed suddenly, beginning a slow fall to her Leela started forward to brace her and came face to face with Kristal's trance. Whatever magic or science was in this woman, it had poisoned her eyes.

Martha drew herself up, boots planted squarely in the snow.

'Who the h.e.l.l h.e.l.l are you people?' are you people?'

She'd set out right after Curt's call - after she'd tried Mak a few times on his radio. All she got was static, like the snow had taken over the airwaves along with everything else.

Cheated of any chance to warn Mak, her new priority was to prepare Amber: your Daddy's here to see you, honey. Make like the bad news was good. Now here she was, all set to trespa.s.s on the ground her little girl believed she'd kept so secret and sacred, and she finds two creeps poking around.

Lucky for them, the walk from the house had left her slightly breathless and her deadly mood lacked the force of volume to back it up.

They were wearing heavy winter coats, smart and expensive, and they looked at her from behind designer sungla.s.ses.

The woman was pet.i.te, even in the coat, soft pale complexion and luxurious dark hair, like in the shampoo commercials, cut in a real cute bob. The man was much taller, rising from an inspection of Amber's rock-cleft hideout. His hair was smoothed back, showing off a handsome face that dimpled with a smile as broad as his shoulders. Right now, Martha didn't much care for how they looked, but they plainly did.

'Well, howdy, ma'am,' he stepped up to proffer a hand.

Martha wasn't sure if the Southern accent was intended to mock her own. She got a lot of that from the kids at the school, but she'd coached herself to ignore it.

'How do you do, ma'am,' the woman stepped up beside her partner and removed her gla.s.ses to show a pair of pretty eyes. 'We're just looking into something your daughter appears to have found. You are Martha Mailloux, mother of Amber?'

Right, like her facts needed checking. Martha wanted to tell her there was clearly nothing wrong with her facts and if she wanted any more she should take it up with Makenzie Shaw, whom they no doubt knew was Police Chief around here.

Martha Mailloux handled her own fights though, and if these people didn't know that already, they were about to find out.

'I said,' she said, 'who the h.e.l.l h.e.l.l are you?' are you?'

'It's not here, Captain.'

'Thanks, Derm, I can see that for myself.'

Morgan Shaw wasn't proud to be broadcasting his irritation. He was less proud to be taking it out on his 2IC.

Still, when Lieutenant Dermot Beard had been christened, Morgan reckoned his folks must have intended him to acquire the nickname of Derm. The toughest hide, wrapped round an exceptional, conscientious intellect; going a thousand thoughts per second and revealing itself to the outside world only in a carefully measured gaze and soft-spoken observations. He could take any flak Morgan cared to throw, and he'd turned down a fistful of transfers so he could carry on doing just that. Well, serve the guy right.

Morgan appraised what little they did have.

The room in which he and most of Derm's squad were gathered showed the only signs, as far as Morgan could tell, of attempted renovation to the building by the current - scratch that, most recent most recent - tenants. It wasn't what you'd call grade A craftsmanship: they'd simply ripped out most of the floor from the bedroom above, presumably for the effect of a high ceiling, but left the beams in place to collect dust and sprinkle it on the shoulders of the heavy-footed. It was a work in progress, the bones of a chapel to their alien G.o.ds. - tenants. It wasn't what you'd call grade A craftsmanship: they'd simply ripped out most of the floor from the bedroom above, presumably for the effect of a high ceiling, but left the beams in place to collect dust and sprinkle it on the shoulders of the heavy-footed. It was a work in progress, the bones of a chapel to their alien G.o.ds.

The pseudo-religious trappings were few and far between: dead candles everywhere, many of them toppled, and DIY holy relics, like that mutated star-sculpture made out of copper wire, either hanging on the wall or mounted on tall stands draped with dark cloth. Heavy drapes blocked out the windows and there were more of the same leftovers from the unholy battle that had erupted throughout this crazy house.

The major difference was in the sheets, spars and lumps of metal; scorched, buckled and broken, and laid out with lunatic reverence over the floor. Metal victims of some unnatural disaster.

'Do we even have half an aircraft yet?'

'Possibly, Captain, with the sections we recovered already.'

Morgan shook his head, displeased. 'Well, I'll have Ben bring up the trucks for loading. Other than that, maybe we should let the crazies do our work for us.'

'Sir?'

'Kristal and Marotta reported two rust-heaps out the back.

A cult like this, stuck in the New Hampshire backwoods, they'll have more wheels than that to their name. My guess, there are a few more search parties out there, running down every last piece of our property. And sooner or later, they're going to be bringing it home.'

Hopeful, sure, but Morgan Shaw needed something to smile about.

'White Shadow? Is that your winter name? Do you have a different one for warmer climes?'

'No, Doctor, I think it's meant to convey that we're stealthy and we're the good guys.'

Joanna Hmieleski was, in some respects, enjoying her betrayal, offering up state secrets to this self-p.r.o.nounced Scientific Adviser. Mainly, she guessed, because they hadn't got very far into it, and she took care to murmur her responses under cover of the renewed activity taking over the house: soldiers everywhere. They'd moved on from the dining room when Pydych had come through with the detection gear: so far nothing. Thankfully he'd kept it short and quiet, let them off lightly with just the one wisecrack about a lovers'

tryst.

'Anyway, our mission here is ostensibly a Search and Rescue.'

'Ostensibly, as in, it's something else entirely?' it's something else entirely?'

'No. As in, it is now. it is now. There's a pilot we're hoping is very much alive. And - the aircraft was, well, special: a Raven EF111B - with some modifications.' Joanna glanced below as she took the stairs two at a time after the Doctor. She didn't want to fall behind him and have to raise her voice. 'We found some sections on the mountain, but the Captain had Kristal divine the whereabouts of the other fragments and she traced some of them here. A backwoods cult with an interest in United States Air Force debris.' There's a pilot we're hoping is very much alive. And - the aircraft was, well, special: a Raven EF111B - with some modifications.' Joanna glanced below as she took the stairs two at a time after the Doctor. She didn't want to fall behind him and have to raise her voice. 'We found some sections on the mountain, but the Captain had Kristal divine the whereabouts of the other fragments and she traced some of them here. A backwoods cult with an interest in United States Air Force debris.'

The Doctor fixed her with a stare from the landing. 'Do you know, the trouble with answers like those, they leave me with too many questions to know which one to ask next.'

Hmieleski drew a cool breath. 'Doctor, I'm risking a lot to tell you any of this. Trust me, I want to help you,' she kept her voice low but sharp, 'but there's a lot of stuff they don't even tell me. I told you, we're not UNIT. We're not about fighting aliens. White Shadow is about - recovery and research into the useful application of extraterrestrial artefacts.'

'Oh, wonderfully recited,' the Doctor's stinging praise was unexpected. 'Military applications, of course. What artefacts?

What modifications, modifications, Lieutenant? What was that expensive aircraft doing flying through a blizzard?' Lieutenant? What was that expensive aircraft doing flying through a blizzard?'

'Extreme conditions were key to the exercise.' Joanna hated the hole she was in here, but she couldn't bring herself to deceive the Doctor. Ridiculous, she didn't even know the guy, but she couldn't figure him as an enemy of the state. An excuse she would save for her court martial. She followed him along the upstairs hall, and paused while he examined the splintered rail. 'A conventional Raven is a two-seater electronic warfare jet. As the test platform for Operation Afterburn, our aircraft was fitted with a device, situated in the c.o.c.kpit, adjacent to the pilot's seat.'

'Afterburn, hmm? The modern military loves to play with names almost as much as it loves to play with big bangs.

What device?'

Joanna wanted to tell him to back off, she didn't need any more prodding. But she tightened her lip a moment, then opened her mouth to continue.

'The Stormcore,' said Kristal. The scout was standing weakly in a doorway and the girl, Leela, was supporting her.

'Where is the Captain? There's something he'll want to know.'

'He couldn't possibly be more interested than I am,'

declared the Doctor.

Guilt warmed Joanna's insides. No way Kristal could have missed what was going on here. But you could never tell with Kristal, whether she was inclined to be frank and truthful or utterly secretive. Let her play it her way. Kristal had just blown the top-secret name anyway.

She reached for her hand radio. 'I'll call him in. Then we can all hear It.'

'Tell him it's very close,' said Kristal. 'And it's on the move.'

Chapter Four.

Snow was turning this trek home into a year's worth of walking. Mitch Lagoy's bones were one big ache barely holding him together. He would have suggested they move up onto the ridge over west, where the drifts weren't so deep, but he knew Jacks would only throw one of her tantrums: too high, too visible; where are the trees up there, Where's our cover? The fact she'd be right only made him ache some more.

She'd had them put a spurt on since they'd heard the shots. Running as best they could in this frozen soup. Mitch wouldn't dream of complaining, no sir, not with this lady drill sergeant taking the lead. Emilie Jacks could b.i.t.c.h in your face worse than any storm.

She always said he could scare off bears with his build, but from where he trailed it looked like she was having the easier time of this, and she was carrying a heavier load. Any lesser find she'd have had him following after her like a pack animal, but not this prize. No, this one was hers and she was going to be seen bringing it on home, a grand offering to impress Crayford. Well, he certainly couldn't have been impressed with her body. Wasn't hardly female, to Mitch's way of thinking.

Muscle and cement, and a face of hard edges.

n.o.body had much minded when Crayford had moved the group north. The government were on their tail and they'd had to go somewhere. New Hampshire or Arkansas, it made little difference when they were this close to crossing over. As it turned out, the move to Mount Shaw had brought them manna from heaven. And they'd all raced out to join the hunt when Crayford had told them to go find the pieces of their destiny.

Mitch wished he saw the truth the way Crayford saw it, wished he had that kind of mind. But Crayford promised him it wasn't intelligence that qualified when it came to crossing over. Even some of the government people were intelligent in their own way, he pointed out, but they didn't have the eyes or the soul to see the other realm.

Yeah, it was the way Crayford spoke the truth as much as the way he saw it.

But what in Christ did he ever see in Emilie Jacks?

Lady was a freak. Sticking her ugly face of stone into the whole operation, taking charge and making like she was the only one ever had military training. Yeah, kiss my a.s.s and watch it turn into a prince. If she was so smart and highly trained, how come she'd had them set out with a dribble of gas in the tank? And how come she hadn't kitted them up with snowshoes for this gig? Okay, they never had any of that gear at the house - all guns, no skis - but how hard could it be to get some?