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DOCTOR WHO: THE INTERNET ADVENTURES #27
THE APAN WAY
CHAPTER 2: A LITTLE WARNING WOULD HAVE BEEN NICE
by Molly Schlemmer
"Is that..." Vivi trailed off mid sentence, unable to make her mind
find the words she was looking for. Her ears popped over and over
again due to the vibrations caused by the landing warship. Terror
slowly creeped over her mind, planting its roots firmly in her
over-active imagination, as she realized what she was watching.
"They've..."
"Damn," Jorrell muttered. He shuffled his feet a little.
All Vivi saw was the flutter of his coat tails, and then the force of
a train hit her body from behind, knocking the wind out of her lungs.
A few of the people around her gave her dirty looks - like they
thought she some drunkard, some blight on society - as she tottered
and bumped into them while she was trying to keep her balance. How
she was able to remain upright she did not know.
The strength with which Jorrell's avatar smashed into her body was
never what hurt; it was the disruption of her own thoughts as Jorrell
returned to her mind that always gave her the monster of all
migraines. She could feel the pain beginning to build as she
apologized to the people she had bumped into when the avatar had hit
her. This one was going to be bad.
*Bastard,* she said inside her head. *You couldn't have given me a
little warning?*
*What did you want me to do?* Jorrell replied. *An Apan warstinger
was landing on the tarmac. They've found us. I'm sorry, but what
kind of warning were you expecting given the circumstances?*
Vivi thought about this. He was right, and she could sense his smug
satisfaction at the little victory he had gained over her. Such was
the nature of their relationship: they were willing to die for each
other, but it was every man for himself when it came to being right.
*Well, you didn‚t have to go behind my back,* she thought
sarcastically.
*Now is not the time for puns, Vivian Jean. Get our collective asses
out of here, would you?*
Rubbing her temples as if it would keep the headache from getting any
worse, Vivi stumbled through the crowd to find a dark, quiet place to
rest.
A place to hide.
*****
The tall chap was clearly on a mission, pushing his way through the
amassing crowd back toward the service corridor. It was all Greh
could do to keep up with the tall chap's quick pace. This was
getting too complicated, he decided. Greh knew the jig was up, and
he needed to disappear back into the crowd without the mark noticing.
But for some reason, he couldn't. Greh felt oddly compelled to
follow the tall chap wherever he was going. TARDIS, wasn't it? What
the hell was a TARDIS? Greh remembered something he had read on the
astro-folklore boards. Could this chap really be... He shook his
head. Nah. Urban legends weren't real. Just believable enough to
put honest working fellows like Greh into business.
The crowd started to thin out as they neared the service corridor.
Greh was stuck. Any attempt to sneak away now would be noticed. So
why did he care?
"I'm sorry, sir, but this area is restricted."
Greh snapped out of his thoughts. A rather large man in a tan
uniform had blocked the tall chap's path. He was one of the
spaceport's security personnel - one that Greh was overly familiar
with - and he was carrying a phaser rifle, pulled out of storage only
in emergencies. Greh side-stepped into an empty doorway; the guard
wasn't particularly fond of him.
"What do you mean *restricted?* the tall chap asked indignantly.
"I'm allowed everywhere. Now, where did I put that pass..."
"Sir, under lock down procedures, all service corridors and areas
become restricted. Please report to the designated lock down-"
"Lock down? I haven't heard anything about a lock down. Must be
serious. Would you like a jelly baby? There's a good chap. If
you'll excuse us..." The tall chap slid past the guard and into the
service corridor, motioning Greh to come along with him. What was up
with this guy? Greh asked himself as he followed his mark into the
dark corridor.
The guard sniffed the candy that he had been handed and popped it
into his mouth. Yum.
*****
"This is Port Commander Jolyon. Please evacuate the terminals in an
orderly manner and report to the designated lock down areas, located
through the red doors on the inner terminal walls. Repeat, this is
Port Commander Jolyon. There is no reason to panic. Please evacuate
the terminals and report to the designated lock down areas. Thank
you."
Port Commander Regina Jolyon resisted the nervous impulse to run her
hand through her hair as she looked at the image of the warstinger on
the view screen. The ship was a monstrous thing, much larger than
she had imagined when watching training films on ship identification
at the Academy. The films had never trained her for this, she
thought ruefully. *What to do when an enemy warship landed at your
rundown, half-manned spaceport* was apparently not on the Academy's
rubric.
She tapped her thumb against the arm of her chair, beating out the
rhythm to some song she had long ago forgotten the name to. "Do we
have contact with Central Command?" she asked Yates, the comm
officer.
"No, ma'am. The warstinger is scrambling all of our outgoing
communications channels."
Jolyon sighed. It was probably useless to report what was going on
anyway. Most likely Central already knew of the situation, but it
would have been nice to have a little guidance on what to do.
She thought back on the news reports of the past few weeks, on how
so-called analysts had argued point-counterpoint about the ifs,
whens, and wheres of a possible Apan invasion. Even Central's own
intelligence analysts had agreed that any invasion would be like the
invasion of Yaniston: short, sweet and to the point with overwhelming
force. Everyone was convinced they had successfully prepared against
the Apan swarm. Jolyon could only laugh at the situation; it was her
nature to laugh at absurdity.
"Incoming communication from the Apans," reported the comm officer.
She stood up and straightened her uniform. Tan had never been a good
color on her; it was too close in color to her skin tone and she felt
like she looked naked in it. "Open the channel," she ordered.
Everyone in the spaceport's command center shifted their attention to
the image of the warstinger. An oversized bumblebee wearing an
antiquated-looking gold epaulettes appeared on the view screen. In
the background, Jolyon could see other oversized bumblebees doing
what she could only guess was standing at attention. Odd lot, she
decided. No one on Verdant had actually ever seen an Apan.
"I am Admiral Niznuz," said the bumblebee with the epaulettes,
"commander-in-chief of Her Majesty Queen Zenza's space fleet. In the
name of the Apan Hive, we are commandeering this space port.
Surrender control at once."
*****
No way.
Greh's eyes widened in shock when he saw it. The tall chap was
heading toward a large blue box that was about the size of a
PhotoPhone booth. Nah. It couldn't be. Greh decided that he was
either imagining things, or the tall chap was completely off his
rocker and thought that *he* was the Doctor.
The tall chap patted the side of the blue box like he would pat
someone on the shoulder, and smiled on it with affection. "There's
the old girl. Right where I left her." He pulled some sort of key
out of his pocket and stuck it into the door of the blue box, but
paused when someone behind the blue box groaned.
"Could you please not talk right now? I've got a terrible headache."
The voice was female, and in considerable pain.
The tall chap kneeled down. Greh walked around to see who he was
talking to. "Hello, I'm the Doctor," the tall chap said quietly.
His expression suddenly changed from caring to quizzical. "Who are
you hiding from?"
The woman opened her eyes just enough to look at the tall chap. Greh
could see her eyes were bloodshot. "I‚m not hiding," she mumbled.
"Just have a headache, that's all."
"I wasn't really asking you," the tall chap replied. "I was asking
your headache."
*****
"I'm not really in a position to hand over control right now,
Admiral," said Jolyon. "Perhaps you and I could sit down, have a cup
of tea and talk about this. Do you take honey in your tea, Admiral?"
Several of the command center crew stifled a chuckle.
"There will be no talking. Surrender, or we will destroy this
spaceport."
How cliché, Jolyon thought. "Very well, I will surrender control of
this spaceport, but only if you allow me to evacuate everyone. No
use killing unnecessarily, Admiral, as I'm sure you well know."
"There will be no talking. All other spaceports surrendered. You
delayed. You have made your decision. Good day."
The warstinger, despite its size, lifted of with amazing speed. It
backed off several thousand feet, and fired.
CONTINUED
THE APAN WAY
CHAPTER 2: A LITTLE WARNING WOULD HAVE BEEN NICE
by Molly Schlemmer
"Is that..." Vivi trailed off mid sentence, unable to make her mind
find the words she was looking for. Her ears popped over and over
again due to the vibrations caused by the landing warship. Terror
slowly creeped over her mind, planting its roots firmly in her
over-active imagination, as she realized what she was watching.
"They've..."
"Damn," Jorrell muttered. He shuffled his feet a little.
All Vivi saw was the flutter of his coat tails, and then the force of
a train hit her body from behind, knocking the wind out of her lungs.
A few of the people around her gave her dirty looks - like they
thought she some drunkard, some blight on society - as she tottered
and bumped into them while she was trying to keep her balance. How
she was able to remain upright she did not know.
The strength with which Jorrell's avatar smashed into her body was
never what hurt; it was the disruption of her own thoughts as Jorrell
returned to her mind that always gave her the monster of all
migraines. She could feel the pain beginning to build as she
apologized to the people she had bumped into when the avatar had hit
her. This one was going to be bad.
*Bastard,* she said inside her head. *You couldn't have given me a
little warning?*
*What did you want me to do?* Jorrell replied. *An Apan warstinger
was landing on the tarmac. They've found us. I'm sorry, but what
kind of warning were you expecting given the circumstances?*
Vivi thought about this. He was right, and she could sense his smug
satisfaction at the little victory he had gained over her. Such was
the nature of their relationship: they were willing to die for each
other, but it was every man for himself when it came to being right.
*Well, you didn‚t have to go behind my back,* she thought
sarcastically.
*Now is not the time for puns, Vivian Jean. Get our collective asses
out of here, would you?*
Rubbing her temples as if it would keep the headache from getting any
worse, Vivi stumbled through the crowd to find a dark, quiet place to
rest.
A place to hide.
*****
The tall chap was clearly on a mission, pushing his way through the
amassing crowd back toward the service corridor. It was all Greh
could do to keep up with the tall chap's quick pace. This was
getting too complicated, he decided. Greh knew the jig was up, and
he needed to disappear back into the crowd without the mark noticing.
But for some reason, he couldn't. Greh felt oddly compelled to
follow the tall chap wherever he was going. TARDIS, wasn't it? What
the hell was a TARDIS? Greh remembered something he had read on the
astro-folklore boards. Could this chap really be... He shook his
head. Nah. Urban legends weren't real. Just believable enough to
put honest working fellows like Greh into business.
The crowd started to thin out as they neared the service corridor.
Greh was stuck. Any attempt to sneak away now would be noticed. So
why did he care?
"I'm sorry, sir, but this area is restricted."
Greh snapped out of his thoughts. A rather large man in a tan
uniform had blocked the tall chap's path. He was one of the
spaceport's security personnel - one that Greh was overly familiar
with - and he was carrying a phaser rifle, pulled out of storage only
in emergencies. Greh side-stepped into an empty doorway; the guard
wasn't particularly fond of him.
"What do you mean *restricted?* the tall chap asked indignantly.
"I'm allowed everywhere. Now, where did I put that pass..."
"Sir, under lock down procedures, all service corridors and areas
become restricted. Please report to the designated lock down-"
"Lock down? I haven't heard anything about a lock down. Must be
serious. Would you like a jelly baby? There's a good chap. If
you'll excuse us..." The tall chap slid past the guard and into the
service corridor, motioning Greh to come along with him. What was up
with this guy? Greh asked himself as he followed his mark into the
dark corridor.
The guard sniffed the candy that he had been handed and popped it
into his mouth. Yum.
*****
"This is Port Commander Jolyon. Please evacuate the terminals in an
orderly manner and report to the designated lock down areas, located
through the red doors on the inner terminal walls. Repeat, this is
Port Commander Jolyon. There is no reason to panic. Please evacuate
the terminals and report to the designated lock down areas. Thank
you."
Port Commander Regina Jolyon resisted the nervous impulse to run her
hand through her hair as she looked at the image of the warstinger on
the view screen. The ship was a monstrous thing, much larger than
she had imagined when watching training films on ship identification
at the Academy. The films had never trained her for this, she
thought ruefully. *What to do when an enemy warship landed at your
rundown, half-manned spaceport* was apparently not on the Academy's
rubric.
She tapped her thumb against the arm of her chair, beating out the
rhythm to some song she had long ago forgotten the name to. "Do we
have contact with Central Command?" she asked Yates, the comm
officer.
"No, ma'am. The warstinger is scrambling all of our outgoing
communications channels."
Jolyon sighed. It was probably useless to report what was going on
anyway. Most likely Central already knew of the situation, but it
would have been nice to have a little guidance on what to do.
She thought back on the news reports of the past few weeks, on how
so-called analysts had argued point-counterpoint about the ifs,
whens, and wheres of a possible Apan invasion. Even Central's own
intelligence analysts had agreed that any invasion would be like the
invasion of Yaniston: short, sweet and to the point with overwhelming
force. Everyone was convinced they had successfully prepared against
the Apan swarm. Jolyon could only laugh at the situation; it was her
nature to laugh at absurdity.
"Incoming communication from the Apans," reported the comm officer.
She stood up and straightened her uniform. Tan had never been a good
color on her; it was too close in color to her skin tone and she felt
like she looked naked in it. "Open the channel," she ordered.
Everyone in the spaceport's command center shifted their attention to
the image of the warstinger. An oversized bumblebee wearing an
antiquated-looking gold epaulettes appeared on the view screen. In
the background, Jolyon could see other oversized bumblebees doing
what she could only guess was standing at attention. Odd lot, she
decided. No one on Verdant had actually ever seen an Apan.
"I am Admiral Niznuz," said the bumblebee with the epaulettes,
"commander-in-chief of Her Majesty Queen Zenza's space fleet. In the
name of the Apan Hive, we are commandeering this space port.
Surrender control at once."
*****
No way.
Greh's eyes widened in shock when he saw it. The tall chap was
heading toward a large blue box that was about the size of a
PhotoPhone booth. Nah. It couldn't be. Greh decided that he was
either imagining things, or the tall chap was completely off his
rocker and thought that *he* was the Doctor.
The tall chap patted the side of the blue box like he would pat
someone on the shoulder, and smiled on it with affection. "There's
the old girl. Right where I left her." He pulled some sort of key
out of his pocket and stuck it into the door of the blue box, but
paused when someone behind the blue box groaned.
"Could you please not talk right now? I've got a terrible headache."
The voice was female, and in considerable pain.
The tall chap kneeled down. Greh walked around to see who he was
talking to. "Hello, I'm the Doctor," the tall chap said quietly.
His expression suddenly changed from caring to quizzical. "Who are
you hiding from?"
The woman opened her eyes just enough to look at the tall chap. Greh
could see her eyes were bloodshot. "I‚m not hiding," she mumbled.
"Just have a headache, that's all."
"I wasn't really asking you," the tall chap replied. "I was asking
your headache."
*****
"I'm not really in a position to hand over control right now,
Admiral," said Jolyon. "Perhaps you and I could sit down, have a cup
of tea and talk about this. Do you take honey in your tea, Admiral?"
Several of the command center crew stifled a chuckle.
"There will be no talking. Surrender, or we will destroy this
spaceport."
How cliché, Jolyon thought. "Very well, I will surrender control of
this spaceport, but only if you allow me to evacuate everyone. No
use killing unnecessarily, Admiral, as I'm sure you well know."
"There will be no talking. All other spaceports surrendered. You
delayed. You have made your decision. Good day."
The warstinger, despite its size, lifted of with amazing speed. It
backed off several thousand feet, and fired.
CONTINUED