kirsteena | Transformations and Machinations 2/4 [Spooks/Dr Who fanfic, 15]

Title: Transformations and Machinations
Fandom: Spooks/Dr Who
Word Count: Total: 19226 (This chapter: 6103)
Rating: 15
Characters: Lucas North, Ros Myers, Connie James, Martha Jones, plus two guest appearances
Spoilers: All of Season Seven
Summary: The race through the tunnels to stop the suitcase bomber takes an unexpected turn.
Disclaimer: Don't own Spooks, just playing in the sandpit. No money being made etc etc. All rights belong to Kudos and the BBC.
Author's Note: Written for

apocabigbang. Many, many thanks to the wonderful

verdant_gt for the beta, and to

fenna_girl and

ladyofbrileith for their support.
Links to other chapters: Chapter One

DAY FIVE

ROS

It had taken them five days to work through the tunnels. The heat was oppressive, meaning that they couldn’t move more than two to three miles per day, in short bursts. Not with Connie and Lucas slowing them down. Yes, they had water and food, but there was limited oxygen at the best of times in the tunnels, and they were all feeling the effects of exhaustion. Ros didn’t want to think about how exposed to radiation they had been. If you started thinking that, you might as well give up and die, something Ros Myers never intended to do.

The tunnels were never in straight lines, always curving. Ros wondered how on earth Lucas was managing to remember where they were going. It seemed they were trusting him blindly, but it was all they could do. He was the one who had the knowledge.

The worst moment of that dreadful time in the tunnels came on the second day. As they rounded a corner, they came upon a deserted tube train which had ground to a halt – a sign of complete lack of electricity. It was obvious there had been utter chaos in the aftermath. People had been crushed to death in an effort to get out. It wasn’t obvious if there had been any survivors, but what there was now was tens, possible a hundred stinking, rotting corpses. Two of the Russians turned and immediately threw up, the rest of them moved away quickly, fighting for control. There were rats everywhere.

Lucas had gone pale, not only from the sight, but in reaction to the blood loss and infection he knew was beginning to hit him. "Chances are high that there were survivors at some point," he said, trailing off.

"But they probably didn’t survive for very long," Ros finished for him. "Expect this scene again."

"I know. That’s why I’m trying to keep us to service tunnels. Less chance of seeing it." He stopped and looked around. "This way."

DAY SEVEN

LUCAS

The bus trip was in silence for the most part. Occasionally they stopped, flagged down by people desperate to get away from the cities, to find a place to survive. Even though the bus was full, no one was refused. People crammed up, three and four, sometimes more to what should have been two seats. Health and safety seemed like a long forgotten joke, belonging to a different age. However, there were two people allowed seats to themselves, though. A woman who had given birth to a baby boy the day after the first bomb, and Lucas, as the infection Ros suspected he would get from his wound took over his system.

The food and water they had brought with them was welcome, but what Lucas needed most of all was antibiotics – something Harry hadn’t foreseen to put in any of the packs. Lucas was only half aware of his surroundings, had been like this for a day and a half, but the infection waited long enough to allow him to know what had happened.

They had finally made it to the surface of London late in the fifth day. The sight that greeted them took all their breaths away. It was one thing to imagine what it would look like, a city devastated. It was another thing entirely to see it laid out in front of you. Lucas heard a noise, and glanced to his left. Ros had gasped, stunned by it all. Even the Russians were silenced by what they saw.

The fires had been fierce, that much was clear. There were some buildings left standing, but most were hollow shells, ready to collapse if they were so much as blown on by a child. They couldn’t see deep into London, not from where they were – they needed to be somewhere like Hampstead for that, and Lucas was grateful for the fact that they could only see what they did. He didn’t want to see the complete devastation that central London would have experienced.

"Don’t forget," Ros had said, her voice sounding strange behind the gas mask Connie had insisted they wore until they were a safe distance from London. "Don’t touch anything. Minimal exposure and we should make it out safely. We’ll burn the clothes and everything we have as soon as we can find new ones."

He felt too warm. At some level he was aware it was his fever dominating his system, but all he wanted to do was sleep. The bus was packed, noisy, but in a strange way it was comforting – the knowledge that people had survived.

He suddenly realised that Ros was bending over him, trying to get him to drink some water. "How are things?" he asked, rousing himself, his voice rough.

"Here? Fine," Ros replied, too brightly.

"Ros..."

"It’s okay, it’s just a lot of people."

Lucas nodded, understanding. Ros wasn’t really a people person. This trip must be her idea of hell. "Any news?" he asked, after forcing some water down, fighting off a wave of nausea that the liquid caused. He hoped it wasn’t radiation poisoning, but he couldn’t be sure, nor was he actually sure he cared at the moment.

"Actually, yes. We’ve managed to get a clearer idea after talking to people." She looked at him carefully for a moment.

"Don’t leave me in suspense," he said when Ros went silent.

"Sorry, was just deciding if you were well enough to take it in."

Lucas sighed. "Just tell me. Better than me not knowing," he pointed out.

Ros pushed his leg gently, creating a small gap for her to perch on the edge of the seat. "Well, it seems we were right. Tiresius were determined to cause chaos, and they had a second sleeper in place, ready to detonate earlier. Seems that even Connie didn’t know that."

"Someone didn’t trust an agent who was betraying them. There’s a shocker," Lucas said, shuffling slightly to give Ros more room, then wincing in pain.

"Indeed," Ros replied, obviously amused at the idea of it. "Anyway, as we thought, the Russians blamed the Americans, using the stolen warheads as an excuse. However... I don’t think anyone anticipated America retaliating quite so quickly. They launched a bomb on Moscow within two hours."

"And then the Russians retaliated back, which meant that everyone else who had nuclear capability pitching in because it was too good an opportunity to miss," Lucas said, paling at the news. "Jesus. How bad?"

"Most of the USA and Russia has been heavily bombed, most of it uninhabitable. Europe appears to have gotten off relatively lightly, so, we think, has Australasia. Of course, there’s no easy way to tell - communications are limited. The Middle East has been pretty well destroyed – I think some people just used that as an opportunity. Within the UK – London and most of the South East is devastated, but the North seems to have survived. Obviously no one thought north of Manchester was worth bombing. Always knew people were London oriented. Of course, that’s not taking into account the fallout and poisoning of the land. That we’ll probably never know for years – that is, if we live that long."

"You’re just full of joy, aren’t you?" Lucas said, looking up but avoiding Ros’ eyes. "Situation at home?"

"Half the Royal Family are dead," Ros said. "Harry is the current King, thanks to serving abroad and someone in charge actually thinking sensibly and getting him to a deep level bunker quickly. All troops are recalled home to try and restore some kind of order – if they can make it. The Government is shot to hell – Parliament was in session, with a three line whip vote on something or other, which meant that only a small handful of MPs were out of town. No warning, no one had time to get into the deep level shelters."

"Who’s in charge?"

"Those MPs that are left for now, but there is a lot of unrest. Someone needs to stand up and take charge."

"At least Harry is a figurehead people can get behind," Lucas said. "His mother served him well there."

Ros nodded, then spoke quietly. "From what I can tell, hardly anyone survived from London. We’re going to be needed, more so than ever. So..."

"I’m not a priority over those that need it more," Lucas protested.

"I could make it an order if you like. Lucas, we’re going to have to put some kind of security services back in place to protect those who are left from anyone who decides to try and advantage of the situation, so at the end of the day, I need you."

"Didn’t think you cared," Lucas said, giving a weak laugh then wincing in pain.

"Get some rest," Ros said, putting her hand on his shoulder, and for once letting the worry she felt show in her eyes. "We should get to one of the first camps by morning, they tell me."

"How are the others?" Lucas asked, ignoring her comment about rest. He would when he was ready.

"Lucas..."

"It’s fine. How are they doing?" he insisted.

Ros paused for a moment, sighing. "The Russians have accepted things. They’ve been helping out while they’ve been on the bus. Andre told me that they will look for ways to contact their superiors, but until then, they’re not out to make trouble. If anything, they want to integrate."

"Given how many people will be blaming Russia, I don’t blame them. Mob rule can be a violent thing. And Connie?"

"Quiet, which worries me."

"She’s waiting for an opportunity?"

"That’s my guess."

"Whatever happens, we’ll watch her closely," Lucas said quietly. "Once I’m better, it’ll be easier."

"And you won’t get better if you don’t rest."

"Yes, ma’am."

DAY EIGHT

ROS

"We need a doctor," Ros said, as she and Andre manhandled Lucas from the bus, nearly dropping him as they stepped down the last step. Lucas had been completely out of it for the last hour, and hadn’t moved as he was picked up. Ros glanced around after settling him. Too many people, all ill. She had an uncomfortable reminder of seeing refugee camps on the news, people living in tents, a sense of despair all around. So many people needed doctors, but she needed Lucas. She needed him if they were to try and help find some order out of this chaos.

A short black woman came rushing over, tucking a stethoscope around her neck. "What happened?" she asked, peering up at Lucas, who stirred slightly at the attention.

Ros took a deep breath, she knew how what she had to say next was going to sound. "He was shot, eight days ago. In London."

The woman looked up at Ros with a sharp glance, confusion very evident on her face. "You’ve been in London?" she asked. "You got out of London?"

Ros looked at the woman, pinning her accent down to one of the northern London suburbs. "We happened to be underground at the time it happened."

The doctor broke off from her examination of Lucas to look at her. "And you just managed to get out of London?" she said, her disbelief obvious.

Ros glanced around. "Is there somewhere more private than out in the open? A lot more private?" she said.

The woman looked up at her, then nodded sharply. "I’ve been using an office of sorts. It’s probably the quietest place here. Not that there is much privacy." Ros glanced at Andre, who picked Lucas up, grunting slightly as he settled him on his shoulder, then following her. The doctor led them to a portacabin, unlocking the door. It had obviously been commandeered as a makeshift examination room and any medical equipment, or anything that could be used as such was crammed in here. "Put him on the table," she said, nodding to the exam table that had obviously seen better days. Andre placed him down, and Ros flipped up Lucas' shirt to show the dressing. The stitches had obviously popped open at some point overnight, as his shirt was once again drenched in blood.

"He’s been like this for eight days?" the doctor asked, glancing up at Ros. "He’s lucky to be alive."

"Trust me, he’s a fighter. He’s only started succumbing to the infection in the last couple of days," Ros said, sitting down on one of the chairs. Andre chose to remain standing. Ros gave him a glance.

"I’m not leaving," he said.

"Suit yourself."

"Look, I don’t care whether you stay or go, but I think you owe me some kind of explanation, yeah?" the doctor said, glancing once at Ros, then went back to examining Lucas. "People don’t just walk out of London, not in the condition you are in."

Ros looked up at Andre, then back at the doctor. "What’s your name, doctor?" she asked.

"Dr Jones. Dr Martha Jones," she replied.

"And you’re the only doctor here?" Ros asked.

"No, there are a couple of others, but we’ve been swapping shifts since we all arrived. The others are asleep at the moment," Martha said, using swabs to clean around Lucas’ wound. "Why?"

"I’m going to have to ask you to keep any information you hear here to yourself. Treat it as patient/doctor confidentiality if you like," Ros said, smirking slightly before turning to Andre. "Are you going to stand there all day?" she asked pointedly.

"Da," Andre responded. "Especially if we might find out something useful."

"What if I fill you in later if you need to know? It isn’t exactly pertinent to you, and you know Lucas’ story," Ros asked. "Some things we do want to keep to ourselves."

Andre gave an odd smile. "I'll expect to see you later," he said, his accent pronounced, before nodding his head once and leaving the room.

Martha waited until Andre left, then paused and looked over at Ros. "Ever hear of UNIT?" she asked.

"Never heard of it," Ros said blandly, shaking her head slightly. She had - she wouldn't be an effect section chief if she hadn't - but she certainly wasn’t going to let the doctor have any advantage. It was interesting though, that she gave that information freely, especially after everything that had happened with a second sleeper. UNIT were much like MI5 in that respect, they only told you if you needed to know – and the list of need to know was very small. One to keep a very close eye on.

Martha raised an eyebrow at Ros, but carried on. "Unified Intelligence Taskforce," she replied. "Part of their remit is to investigate paranormal and extraterrestrial threats."

"Really?" Ros drawled, not even bothering to hide her amusement. "Well, I could say the obvious 'aliens don't exist', but never mind. I will say that there isn’t exactly a lot of call for that in this situation, but do carry on."

Martha shot Ros a sour look. "I was one of their medical officers, my point being that I am well used to keeping secrets as needed. Whatever is going on, I’m not going to tell anyone. Who’s going to believe me that I work with aliens?"

"You’re right," Ros said in her usual manner. "They’re not."

Martha had cut off Lucas’ shirt, her eyes taking in the tattoos on his torso and arms. "Russian prison, yeah?" she said, glancing over at Ros.

Ros cocked her head to one side. First UNIT, now she knew about Russian prison tattoos? Who the hell was she, and was there any way to find out more? She thought about all her contacts that might still alive, resolving to start pulling things together. "Been there on a tourist destination?" she asked.

"Sort of. It's a bit of a long story," Martha said at Ros’ questioning look.

"One I truly hope you will answer some day," she said, paying Martha a lot more attention now.

"Odd combination, English and Russians working together," Martha noted. "Especially as you claim to have been in central London. Is the bullet still in there?"

"You wouldn’t believe it," Ros said, sighing. "Yes, I figured it easier just to cover it up, not cause any more damage. The light wasn’t exactly good to work in. How is he?"

"Sick. The wound’s infected, the infection’s most likely working through his blood stream." Martha didn’t look up from where she was working. "So, are you going to tell me?"

"We were in the underground tunnels when it happened. We went deeper, waited it out."

"You realised straight away that it was a nuclear bomb, and instead of going up to the surface to check, you knew enough to go deeper?" Martha said, her disbelief evident in the way she spoke. "And then you survived without food or water for what, four days?"

"Five," Ros replied.

"On an average warm day the temperature gets up about 40C in the tunnels," Martha pointed out. "Surviving that long without water? Unlikely. Who are you?"

Ros watched her for a moment, then spoke quietly, taking a gamble. "Security services," she said. "Well, myself and Lucas are." Yes, if this doctor were a second mole working for Tiresius or, even worse, someone else, it would put her at jeopardy, but the risk was worth taking. Better to bring them out earlier rather than later. She and Lucas were more acceptable targets than innocents. Enough had already died. They could also keep a close eye on Connie, see if this doctor made any contact. Yes, it would do nicely.

Martha glanced up at her, then back to what she was doing, picking up a set of forceps from where they had been crudely sterilised. She was silent for a few moments while she worked, and Ros was content to watch her. "You’re MI5?" Martha asked, pulling out the bullet from Lucas’ side, and dropping it into a dish with a tiny ‘ping’.

"Well, we need to figure out what's left of it, but yes," Ros replied. "And you will keep that knowledge quiet, or I will know. Now you know the reason I need Lucas in one piece. If we are to reform, I need all the officers I can get." She had a fairly good idea of the kind of treatment Lucas should get.

Martha raised an eyebrow at that. "Well, I'll do my best, but I don't know how bad the infection is. We'll keep him in, pump him full of antibiotics and hope that he hasn't got radiation poisoning. He'll get the same treatment as everyone. Too many people are ill."

"How bad is it?" Ros asked. The assessment was useful, and hopefully would give her some clues.

"Bad. We've got several people will initial radiation poisoning that will die in a matter of days – they've simply absorbed too much. We have some showing light symptoms – they have a higher rate of survival, but some will die regardless. Plus we don't know what the long term effect will be. Who knows, we might all yet die because of it."

Ros watched her as she finished dressing Lucas, then set him up on a drip. "That's the nature of things," she said. "Nasty, but life must go on."

"You really don't care, do you?" Martha snapped, turning to look at her.

"Not particularly," Ros said. "The thought of death doesn't really bother me, it would be more the fact that I couldn't do my job."

"You won't find many like that here," Martha warned, turning away to tend to Lucas. "Most are concerned with themselves and those around them. Death is everywhere, and it affects everyone."

DAY TWELVE

LUCAS

There was a small school which now served as a community centre, and one of the classrooms had been turned into a makeshift ward. Everything was makeshift these days. Lucas was lying on the low camp bed, looking up at the ceiling, willing time to pass. At least he wasn’t incarcerated, unlike the last time he’d been ill, but he still hated the situation. He’d even argued with the attending nurse that morning, who merely took it as a sign that he was feeling better.

"So, Mr North?" Doctor Jones said, walking over to him with a smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Bored," Lucas said, before frowning. He glanced around. "I take it I’ll be out of here soon?" It seemed that every bed was filled, and that there were more waiting to use them out in the corridors. People were lying down wherever they could be placed.

Martha followed his gaze. "Probably later today. You should be well enough to finish recovery on your own, though I’ll want to see you every few days for blood tests. We don’t know how large a dose of radiation you managed to get, and your exposure might be worse because of how long that wound was open, though I doubt it."

"Blood tests?" Lucas pulled a face. "I thought you were so overloaded the policy was to wait and see if people developed symptoms?"

"Your friend Ros is persuasive when she wants to be," Martha said, smiling at him. "She’s helping keep order here, on condition that we look after you."

The door to the room opened, and a man poked his head around it. "Doctor Jones, you’re needed in the..." He trailed off, staring at Lucas.

Lucas had looked up as the door opened, and he reacted with as much surprise as the other man, sitting up on the low bed. "Tom? Tom Quinn?" he asked in a stunned voice.

Tom entered the room properly, still staring at Lucas. "No. It can’t be," he said quietly. "You’re dead."

Martha looked between the two men, frowning slightly. "Tom?"

"You were supposed to have died, a long time ago," Tom said absently.

Lucas paled slightly at that information. He knew he’d been forgotten about during his time in Russia, but for people he knew and trusted as friends to think that he’d died? That sense of betrayal he’d felt at being abandoned for eight years suddenly stabbed at him. "Harry told you I was dead?" he said in a low rough voice, trying to clamp down on his emotions. He'd entirely forgotten about Martha and anyone else in the room.

"No," Tom replied, grabbing a chair, and sitting down. "At least, not officially. When you went missing for so long, when Elizabeta was told you were dead, we all assumed the same. I mean, if Harry hadn’t managed to pull you out after that time..." He paused, a million questions crossing his face. "How... how long?"

"Have I been home? About a year," Lucas replied. He was still bothered by nightmares of his time in prison, but in the context of everything else now, it didn’t seem so bad.

Tom paused for a moment, obviously calculating. "Eight years?" He looked utterly stunned at the realisation. "Oh, Lucas..."

Martha put her hand briefly on Lucas’ shoulder. "New arrivals?" she asked Tom, only waiting long enough for his nod of agreement. "I’ll let you two catch up. I’ll be by later to check up on you, Lucas." With that, she left the two men to face each other.

"What happened?" Tom started, looking at Lucas for any signs of injury.

"Gunshot wound, an infection led to complications." He gave a small smile. "How have you been, well, apart from the obvious? And before you ask, I know the circumstances leading up to your ‘retirement’, Read your file when I got back, Harry as usual wouldn't say anything."

"You’re back on the Grid?" Tom seemed surprised by that revelation. "Well, whatever is left of it now."

"Yeah. A colleague and I were lucky enough to be underground at the time it all happened. Literally. We... we realised what had happened, and stayed down there for a few days, waiting for the initial fallout to decrease."

"You were there?" Tom asked sharply. "At the heart of it?"

Lucas, for the first time since this had all happened, allowed his face to show the stress and emotion of the past couple of weeks. "We were trying to prevent it, Tom," he said eventually.

"Let me guess, it went wrong," Tom replied, bitterness evident in his voice.

"Whatever gave you that impression?" Lucas said with a wry grin. "We thought we had it in hand, but someone was way ahead of us."

"Who?" Tom asked. It was obvious he was stunned, and wanted to make sense of it all – who wouldn’t? To suddenly run into your former mentor, whom you thought was long dead, then to find out that at some level they were involved in the destruction of, well, everything... It was almost too much to take in. Lucas wasn't sure he could do it and remain calm.

Lucas swung his legs over the side of the camp bed, wincing slightly as the stitches twisted. "I can’t," he said, looking directly at Tom. He slowly stood up, Tom moving forward to help him upright. "Let’s go somewhere a bit quieter."

"Should you be up? Doctor Jones said..." Tom started.

"I’m fine. I’m not proposing going fell walking just yet, just finding a quiet corner somewhere," Lucas said, waving off Tom’s help. "I need to start moving about anyway."

Tom walked beside Lucas, ready to catch him if he fell, but Lucas was determined. He walked slowly down the corridor, checking in rooms. He found an office that had been abandoned and was unlocked, so went inside, Tom following behind.

"Okay spill it, Lucas," Tom said, when he’d settled in one of the chairs.

"Are you sure?" Lucas said. "I mean, really, I shouldn’t be saying anything. Official Secrets Act and all that."

"Which means crap in a situation like this. Official Secrets Act? Honestly, what secrets do people have left to hide?" Tom sat still for a moment, silent. Lucas watched as a range of emotions passed over Tom’s face – anger, hatred, fear, resignation. "Well, let’s see what I can figure out, see if my training comes back to me, hmm?" Tom said, his voice tight as he controlled his emotions. "A small bomb, in central London. The first to go off worldwide, and significantly smaller than all the others used afterwards. That suggests a different type of weapon, one that wasn’t necessarily delivered in a missile, possibly the old spy favourite of a suitcase bomb. The Russians immediately blamed the Americans for it, saying that the Americans had ‘lost’ several warheads. The Americans in turn blamed the Russians, and retaliated by dropping a bomb on St. Petersburg. Old story, the one everyone predicted, the pair of them now fight over Europe instead of over the Pacific. But it’s interesting that no one else stood up and actually blamed anyone, not even a terrorist cell. I mean, it was the ideal opportunity for some of them to take advantage of the chaos. One might even think it was all planned..." Tom paused, looking closely at his old friend. "Then, a few days later, you turn up with a colleague, someone else whom you obviously don’t trust too much, and a small group of Russians. Now, given the circumstances, that’s an interesting combination of people, especially as you all claim to have been hiding out in London."

"Harry trained you too well," Lucas said with a wry grin.

"Harry, and the person who was my mentor when I started, should take equal credit. Which would be, oh, let’s see, you," Tom replied. "So come on Lucas. This is me. Spill."

Lucas looked carefully at Tom. "If I tell you, you realise that you will be drafted back into the service while it’s rebuilding?" he warned. "We need every hand we can get, and retired officers are a good resource. It’s not like you really need to be up to date on things, anyway. Technology won't be quite what it used to be, and the rest you can catch up on fast." Lucas gave a small frown, remembering what it was like when he returned to the Grid.

"I guessed as much," Tom said. "I figured most of the Grid..." He trailed off, unwilling to put voice to the words.

"Yeah, I know. As far as we can tell, all the rest were in central London... though the Grid would look different from when you were there. Only Harry and Malcolm were still there."

"But you managed to survive."

"Like I said, we were underground and trying to stop a bomb going off in London. Okay, let’s start at the beginning, but what I’m about to tell you is for your ears only. Do you remember hearing about Connie James during your time on the Grid?" Lucas asked.

Tom frowned slightly, thinking back. "I remember hearing about her, generally in hushed tones about how smart she was. She left the Grid a few years before either of us started, didn’t she? Retirement. She ended up looking after some kind of facility."

"Yeah, she did. Harry brought her back about eighteen months ago, he needed someone to help Malcolm. What we didn’t know was that in the mid eighties, she’d actually been turned by the Russians," Lucas said grimly.

Tom stared at Lucas for a moment. "My god..." he said. "How the hell did you find out?"

"Long story. Really long story, actually, partly linked with my time in Russia. Anyway, that's history. Back to the present day. We’d been getting clues that the Russians had infiltrated us somehow, and that they knew about a project of ours, designed to negate the Russian nuclear capability if it ever got to be too much of a threat. We got word that the network had been compromised, and I was sent back to Moscow a couple of weeks ago to pick up some information. What I got was a microfiche, and a photo of Connie talking to Russians that was taken in the late eighties. She was arrested, and was about to be transferred to Nemworth when we got a tip off from a sleeper agent that something big was about to happen – which she knew about. She called it her ‘insurance policy’. Shame she got it just that little bit wrong." Lucas’ bitterness came through in his last comment. "Okay, maybe not quite such a long story when I put it like that," Lucas said, grinning slightly then running his hand through his hair. "It’s been hell. We were so close to stopping it, Tom." The guilt that they didn’t make it would certainly live with him for the rest of his life, as it would with Ros, he assumed. "So close, but they were one step ahead, and now..."

"And now, hell has broken loose. God, Lucas," Tom said, sighing, and slumping forward in his chair. "Plans now?"

"Ros Myers, my section chief, wants to see how far we can rebuild things. Whatever happens, we are going to need some kind of security services," Lucas said. "She’ll be the logical person to take charge, at least in the short term."

"Short term?" Tom asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Let’s just say she’s not the desk type, and Harry is a hard act to follow," Lucas said, smiling slightly. "She’s like me, prefers the field work."

"Okay," Tom said, thinking. "Did you ever meet Christine Dale?"

"Your wife?" Lucas said, grinning at his old friend. "Told you I read your file."

"Why am I not surprised?" Tom said, with a laugh. "Well, she’s still got contacts within CIA, or she certainly used to. She’ll want to get involved if I am, knowing her."

"She’s here?"

"Yeah, we were actually on holiday in Cumbria when it all happened, so we were transferred to this camp. Just a bit of luck, really," Tom said with a smile.

"You picked a hell of a time to have a romantic getaway, Tom," Lucas said. "You were always lucky like that."

"Whereas you were always in the centre of things," Tom replied. "I see some things never change."

"Did you ever think they would?"

ROS

"You did what?" Ros asked, staring at Lucas.

"Recruited our first new officer," Lucas said, sitting back and relaxing in his seat. "Come on, you have to admit it makes sense."

"He burnt out, Lucas. Yes, I read his file when I read up on you," Ros said, smirking.

Lucas had fully expected Ros to have studied his file in detail – she wouldn’t have been an effective section chief if she hadn’t. "That was then. Circumstances have changed. We need every able bodied person if we are to try and regain some sense of order. Besides, his wife’s connections to the CIA could be useful," Lucas responded.

"Sure. Because the ‘special relationship’ means so much to the average person on the street these days after the USA effectively precipitated World War Three," Ros pointed out.

"She holds dual passports, we can pull rank," Lucas replied.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you doing this? Why Tom? Why now?"

Lucas sat forward, gathering his thoughts for a moment. "Maybe I’m sentimental for the past. Tom and I worked well together. But then bottom line is that he’s a good officer – okay, was. Yes, he let his emotions get the better of him, but I’m not so sure that morals aren’t a bad thing."

"Thus speaketh the son of a preacher man," Ros quipped.

"Maybe. But ultimately, he was trained by Harry. He has connections, ones we can exploit. If you’re worried, give him a reduced role. I suspect he won’t mind. But it would be a waste of a resource that is here, willing and able and God knows we can’t afford to waste any these days."

Ros watched Lucas carefully then nodded. "You had me early on. I just wanted to be sure of your motivations."

"Testing me, Ros?" Lucas didn’t bother to hide the annoyance in his voice.

"If we are going to come out of this with any shred of our former status, then yes, I will test you. You’ll no doubt do the same to me. A lot of Europe is beyond pissed with Russia and the USA for leading us into this, and it might be our only way to survive as a nation."

Lucas sighed. "I’m surprised that our guests have stayed for so long, and that they are still actually in one piece," he admitted.

"So am I," Ros replied. "Which means I feel that we should keep closer eye on our guests. Our new recruit would be perfect. That anonymous touch."

"No matter what happens, some people will always need private security," Lucas deadpanned. "And what about our own private security nightmare?"

"She is keeping her head down," Ros said. "And that worries me. She’s the type of person to have plans already set in place for the next step. Oh, and I fully intend to use Doctor Jones' connection with UNIT."

"Oh?" Lucas said, raising an eyebrow.

"She didn't tell you?"

"No."

"Interesting. She gave the information to me quite freely. I'm still not fully convinced that she isn't working with Tiresius, so keeping an eye on her, especially in relation to Connie. The rest of the Russians I don't think were involved, but Connie is our main link."

"Let me guess, given I've gotten to know her over the past few days with being ill, you would like me to maintain that friendship," Lucas said, smirking slightly. Sometimes Ros was rather obvious.

"Of course," she replied. "You know me, use and abuse every link I can find."

"I take it you've been keeping an eye on her, seeing if she contacts Connie?"

"Of course," Ros replied. "And she hasn't spoken to her once. I don't think that completely clears her, but it's looking marginally less likely that they are working together."

"And what about outside contact? I've been out of touch, I need information," Lucas said when Ros raised an eyebrow. "Where is the base of power going to be, who is going to be involved? Details, Ros, details."

"Edinburgh is the logical choice," Ros replied. "The regional Governments will be dissolved, and power will all go back to one unified structure. Edinburgh Castle is well set up to be the Royal Family's base of operations, the government and it's departments will all head there once the travel restrictions are lifted, which should be in a few days for essential personnel."

"And the definition of essential personnel?"

"From this camp? Who I say."

Link to Chapter Three