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Post by Jonah Caine on Aug 12, 2015 19:33:34 GMT -5
High in the fastness of his luxury tower apartments, Jonah Caine smoothed a non-existent wrinkle from his already pristine formal collar, and stared at his reflection in the mirror. Down below, the streets were already bustling, as people flooded into the Praesidium from the outlying settlements of Copernicus.
Jonah gave a deep sigh. His appearance was immaculate – his midnight-blue tunic and trousers exquisitely cut to flatter his tall, thin figure; his black patent leather shoes polished until they shone like glass; his dark hair cut short with military precision. He knew he had no reason to delay any further, or his father would send one of the servants to fetch him.
He turned away from the mirror, his shoulders hunched in a typical teenage slouch. For all his undoubted wealth and privilege, there were times when he hated being a Caine. Take today, for instance. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the air was warm and balmy. There were a thousand things he could think of that he'd love to be doing. But instead of that, he would have to stand on a dais all day at his father's side, enduring boring ceremony after boring ceremony, while doing his best to keep his eyes downcast and a proper and respectful expression on his face.
Today was the Anamnesis, the Commemoration of the Dust Fall. The one day, every year, where the Copernicans gathered to remember the devastation that befell their planet nearly a full century ago. Jonah had attended the ceremonies ever since he was a small child. Back then, he'd just accepted it as a part of life, dull though it was. Now though, he was older, and he questioned the necessity of the constant, dreary repetition. Yeah, sure, the Dust Fall had been a terrible thing, and nearly a quarter of the population had died. But it had happened decades ago. Civilisation had moved on. Surely it was better to embrace the future than to dwell on the past.
Unfortunately for him, his father and the other Elders didn't agree with this viewpoint. In their minds, the tragedy marked the turning-point of Copernican society and therefore must be memorialised with all due pomp and ceremony. And Jonah - as the son of Malachi Caine, CEO of Galatea Inc, and richest man on Copernicus – had to keep up appearances and play his part.
As the boy turned towards the transmat pod situated in the outer corridor, his thoughts went back to the holovids he had seen of the Dust Fall. The terrible, choking clouds of radioactive dust that one day had suddenly fallen from a clear blue sky, to blanket the cities and fields of Copernicus, killing as it came. No-one knew for sure why it had happened, or where the dust had come from, although there were plenty of theories. Most of their scientists subscribed to the premise that a rogue comet had collided with their atmosphere and had disintegrated. At the other end of the spectrum, there were some crackpots who actually believed that there was some sort of celestial war going on out there in space, between two highly-advanced alien species, and that the dust was some sort of fall-out from their weaponry. They were the ones with the wild hair and the placards, who stood on street corners and preached that the end of the world was coming. The Praesidium Guard were forced to arrest them when they became too much of a nuisance. Jonah guessed there would be a few crazies around today – the Anamnesis tended to bring them out of the woodwork with a vengeance.
Patting himself down one more time, he fixed a resigned smile on his face that didn't quite reach the boredom in his eyes, and activated the transmat, heading down to the base of Caine Tower to meet with his father.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 14, 2015 20:44:23 GMT -5
Space was screaming silently. As the TARDIS tumbled out of the vortex, this was the first thing that the pair of travellers turned warriors were aware of, the ship and its crew of one, that space was filled with the restless sound of suffering that made no sound. As he gathered himself off the deck of the ship and over to the console to see where he'd been so violently ejected into realspacetime, the scanner picked up the source of the empty distress cry. There was an injured Galeen Star Whale lurching near the gravitational well of a planet, just off his port bow relative to his own position. With a frown he sent out a probe to investigate the whale only to find that the data confirmed that it had at some point recently been attacked by Daleks. And if he knew Daleks at all, which he could say that he did with much displeasure, they would not want to let even a stray whale escape extermination.
He turned his attention to the planet below, now a soon-to-be target for the Daleks and realised it was Copernicus. Once, years ago the planet had been devastated by contaminated fallout from the War. Now, it was thriving again, making a comeback. No, he couldn't let the Daleks take the planet again. Once they came after the whale to check if it had lived, which they would in time unless something else came between them to fire at, then they would find the planet and its resources and likely target that instead. Or at the same time, if they were particularly greedy. He sighed, sending out a medical probe to tend to the whale. Perhaps if it could be sent on its way it would draw them off and he could pick the Daleks off in its wake. But until that time, he would have to try to warn the people on the planet to evacuate.
The only other choice was to put it out of its misery but the creature appeared to be hale enough to survive. Maybe. He hated choises like this one, choose the planet and the people on it or the whale and perhaps you'll lose both. He would have to monitor for Dalek activity carefully. There wouldn't be much time after they arrived. He flicked the switches on the console to materialise him down on the planet's surface, to the main city where he might find the leaders of the colony. Oh, humanity, how you had spread yourself far and wide but the Daleks were always there. The TARDIS faded from the sight of the whale only to materialise with its characteristic wheeze-and-groan at the skirts of a large gathering of people. A quick check to the atmosphere promised he would not die of anything in the interim. He opened the doors and quickly began wading through the crowd with brusqueness just this side of rudeness. The crowd felt solemn but he was in too much of a hurry to stop and wonder why. He had to find someone. Preferably someone important. Finally, in frustration, he reached out to grab someone by the elbow. "Take me to your leader."
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Post by Jonah Caine on Sept 4, 2015 18:29:55 GMT -5
The silence was absolute, heavy as though weighted with lead. By tradition, no-one moved and no-one spoke, while the Orator read out the long list of the people who had died on the day of Dust Fall, punctuating each name with the solemn, ringing tone of a gong. Jonah badly wanted to scratch his neck, but he didn't dare - not with the stern, austere figure of his father standing so uprightly beside him. Malachi Caine hardly even seemed to breathe, so still was he. It was all about self-control, he had impressed on his son, over and over again. Being so often in the public eye, a Caine must always have perfect self-control.
Jonah could feel the sweat trickling uncomfortably down his back and his leg muscles were aching from standing for so long. This part of the ceremony usually went for about two hours. It seemed more like an eternity, marked only by the constant, repetitive sound of the gong, drifting through the still air.
“Joshua Harrenhal.”
BONG.
“Martha Harrenhal.”
BONG.
“Adam Heath.”
BONG.
If they'd only just reached the H's, they'd be at least another hour, Jonah calculated, his stomach sinking in dismay. He stared out over the silent crowd, wondering how many other people were mentally screaming with impatience right now.
Then, all at once, a disturbance at the edge of the gathering caught his eye. Shocked, he swivelled his gaze without moving his head, to try to see what it could be. There was a man there – shabby, with greying hair and beard – trying to push his way through the neatly-aligned ranks of Copernicans. Jonah had never seen him before. Even more startling, the intruder was actually speaking, the brusque tone of his voice carrying even as far as the dais on which the Council stood.
The Orator stopped reading his list of names, as if struck dumb by the enormity of the interruption, and a susurrant hiss of horror ran through the crowd. Jonah felt his father stiffen in fury beside him, and the boy couldn't help feeling a thrill of anticipation at the unexpected break in the monotony. Nothing like this had ever happened before. Even the crazies usually had more sense than to disrupt the roll call of the dead.
Already the black-uniformed Praesidium Guard were closing in on the newcomer, four of them surrounding him, laser weapons drawn. Up on the dais, the Praetor – who was the Head of the Council, and old enough, some said, to have actually seen the original Dust Fall – stepped forward, with magisterial severity.
“Who are you, stranger? How dare you interrupt this most august ceremony?”
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Post by Deleted on Sept 6, 2015 13:00:04 GMT -5
The Renegade gave a huff. "Finally. Now we're getting somewhere," he said, putting his arms out towards them, as if ready to be cuffed and hauled away. "I dare interrupt this ceremony because there's Daleks on the way. Now, if you can hurry along with arresting me so that I can see who is in charge here, that would spare a lot of wasted time!" Then as if to punctuate the fact, he added, "It doesn't matter who I am, are you deaf or just daft? There are -Daleks- on their way here! We need to evacuate, immediately!"
He likely seemed half a mad man, one that believed strongly in everything he said but no less mad for it. Standing there among the neat lines of horrified humans, the War Doctor's form stood out as much as his voice. He held no signs about impending apocalypses but he may as well have for all that he thought his words had any effect.
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Post by Jonah Caine on Sept 6, 2015 19:02:45 GMT -5
The Renegade gave a huff. "Finally. Now we're getting somewhere," he said, putting his arms out towards them, as if ready to be cuffed and hauled away. "I dare interrupt this ceremony because there's Daleks on the way. Now, if you can hurry along with arresting me so that I can see who is in charge here, that would spare a lot of wasted time!" Then as if to punctuate the fact, he added, "It doesn't matter who I am, are you deaf or just daft? There are -Daleks- on their way here! We need to evacuate, immediately!"
The Praetor blinked and tugged at his long white beard, almost too taken aback to speak. “I am Praetor Sarkisian. I am the Head of the Ruling Council of Copernicus. And I can assure you, I am neither deaf nor daft, despite my aged appearance. However, in this case, I must admit, I find myself somewhat at a loss. What, pray tell, is a Dalek?”
“A fictional creature, Your Serenity,” Malachi Caine spoke up, his eyes resting contemptuously on the ragged-looking intruder. “A monster created by the dissenting factions, in an attempt to explain the origin of the Dust Fall. A story fit for nothing but frightening small children and sending them to hide in their mother's skirts. This man is either a delusional madman or an insurgent seeking to disrupt the rule of the Council.”
A soft murmur rippled through the crowd. All eyes were on the newcomer, waiting to see how he would respond. To Jonah's surprise, not everybody looked as scornful as he would have expected, despite the absolute certainty in his father's voice. Some of the citizens actually looked worried. He couldn't help wondering how widespread and deep-rooted the rumours had become, beyond the iron gates and the high walls of the Praesidium.
Jonah had never been outside the city before. There was no reason for him to go. Everything that concerned the Caines – their home, their business, their political influence – was all centred right here, in the safety and comfort of the Praesidium.
But there was something in the way the stranger held himself, something about the craggy planes of his face and the determined set of his shoulders, which showed that he knew very little of safety and comfort. He didn't look like any madman Jonah had ever seen. His bearing was authoritative; his expression was impatient, annoyed even, as if he was taking time out from something more important to speak to them. He certainly wasn't typical of the usual foaming-at-the-mouth brand of lunatic that tended to frequent the Anamnesis.
Where had he come from? the boy wondered, with a sharp, uneasy stab of apprehension. And why was his arrival giving Jonah a very bad feeling indeed?
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Post by Deleted on Sept 10, 2015 22:13:15 GMT -5
"A Dalek is death, Praetor. Nothing more and nothing less. Painful, horrible and all encompassing death. You need to listen to me, we need to evacuate the planet. Now!"
He looked over at the newcomer and huffed in irritation, a blaze if indignation meeting his contemptuous looks. "They -are- monsters, that much you've got right. But they're not fictional at all. They're not created by anything on this planet, they're their own and want nothing else than to exterminate all other life forms in the universe. They -are- the origins of the Dust Fall and if you've forgotten that, then you'd be as well off putting your head amongst your mother's skirts as you've done sinking it into the sand!" He turned his attention back to the Head of Council. "Unless you want nothing less than complete eradication of your world, an event that makes Dust Fall look like a minor setback, we have to start organizing!"
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Post by Jonah Caine on Sept 13, 2015 19:27:26 GMT -5
Evacuate? Not just the city, but the entire planet? Jonah's mind boggled at the enormity of the suggestion. Where would they go? What would they do?
Going by the increased rustling and murmuring of the crowd, he wasn't the only one to be terrified at the prospect, even if it was only being voiced by a madman.
Malachi Caine sensed the shifting mood of the people and his eyes narrowed. He stepped closer to the Praetor and spoke in a soft, urgent tone. “Serenity, I beg you, allow me to deal with this. You must go on with the ceremony, lest this man cause widespread panic across the gathering. Order must be maintained.”
“Yes,” the Praetor nodded. “Yes, Malachi, you are right, of course. I shall leave this... ridiculous disturbance... in your capable hands.”
But as the Head of the Council turned away, Jonah thought he could see the same uneasiness in the old man's faded blue eyes as he could sense in the rest of the crowd, and it sent a chill down the boy's spine. Death, the stranger had said. A Dalek IS death, nothing more and nothing less. The words rang in Jonah's ears, and would not be silenced.
Malachi Caine's mouth was a hard, grim line as he nodded to his personal security detachment, six heavily armed men dressed in the well-known black and green livery of Galatea Inc.
“Come, Jonah.”
His father didn't look at him as he spoke, but Jonah knew better than to disobey. Besides, he was itching to find out more about the unsettling stranger. And anything was better than standing here and enduring more of the tedious commemoration ceremonies. Willingly, he fell into step beside Malachi, while the security detachment brought up the rear, marching in well-trained precision.
The crowd fell back before them, opening up a clear path to the stranger, where he stood surrounded by the Praesidium Guard. Jonah didn't give this deference a second thought. He was used to paths opening up before him. It was part and parcel of being a Caine.
As they approached, the Praesidium Guard stood aside, allowing Malachi's security detachment to take their place. Jonah saw the green gloved hands clamping on the stranger's upper arms and he winced inwardly. There would be no need for handcuffs. The security officers might look human, but their vice-like grip would demonstrate that they most assuredly were not.
Malachi Caine stepped forward, thrusting his face close to the stranger's.
“You think you're very clever, don't you?” he hissed, in a vicious whisper, his voice far too low for the surrounding crowd to hear. “You think you're the only 'Humans First' agent to come here, spreading your lies, trying to sabotage my Ingenium Project by stirring up hatred against cyborgs? Oh, you're good, I'll give you that. Very plausible. Using the legends of the Dust Fall and playing on the fears of the people, spinning your tales of genetically-engineered cyborgs coming here to kill us all. Planting that little seed of doubt, whipping up enough fear and resentment among the populace, so that in their panic, they turn on the Ingenium, is that it?”
His dark eyes glittered with cold, fanatical zeal as he snarled the words in the newcomer's ear. “Well, you just made a huge mistake, old man. Because now I have you. I intend to obtain every last scrap of information you know about 'Humans First', by whatever means necessary. Names, locations, plans... all of it. And then... I will wipe your pathetic little organisation from the face of this planet.”
Stepping back with an iron smile, he ordered the security detachment, “Take him to the lower levels of Galatea Inc. I have some new experimental devices I've been meaning to test. And now seems like a very good time to start.”
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Post by Deleted on Sept 14, 2015 20:31:54 GMT -5
"I've been called worse by better! I'd rather be a ridiculous disturbance than...than a...congenial counter of beans, twiddling thumbs and neatening rows while Rome fell. Not that you remember Rome, I'm sure, if you can't recall what Dust Fall was about! You've perfected the art of forgetting. Soon to your detriment!"
'Oh, if you must," he grumbled, well used to being arrested. "Let's hurry this along. We don't have time to waste." Louder, to the retreating back of the Praetor, he said loudly, "You can only stick your head in the -dust- for so long!" When he looked back, he caught sight of a young man standing next to man who he'd been summarily handed off to, without reason or cause.
His face showed surprise at the strength in the grip of the security officers and he squeezed his biceps, twisting to see just how strong they were. Like iron bars...strong as a Time Lord at least. They weren't human then. He turned his head to examine the nearest one, looking for signs of what they -were- when Malachi came so close to him that he could practically taste his anger.
"Humans First?! Of all the codswollap!" He had to give them credit, for cyborgs they had almost fooled him. If he'd not been manhandled so roughly, it might have taken him even longer to figure it out. "They ARE genetically engineered and they ARE on their way to kill you!" he growled. "I am not part of a anti-cyborg, pro-human anything, you daft ninny! I'm anti-Dalek! This is what I get for telling the truth! And people wonder why I -do- lie. Tell them the truth? Arrested. Tell them a lie? Arrested. Tell them nothing at all? Also arrested."
"Oh yes, you have me. Well done. You have it all figured out don't you? Well, you'd better hurry it up then before the Daleks come and do it for you! We wouldn't want to give them the satisfaction," he spat.
"Oh for the love of the Other...not another mind probe..." he groused wearily. Before he was pulled away, he looked over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes at the young man. He looked like a child, Malachai's child...but there was something about him. The way he was watching him. And then the androids forcibly turned his body toward their goal.
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Post by Jonah Caine on Sept 25, 2015 6:27:34 GMT -5
Jonah watched as the Ingenium guards marched the old man away. He couldn't get that last glance out of his mind. Those keen brown eyes that seemed to see right through to his soul.
“They never give up, do they?” Malachi Caine's voice was low and bitter. Jonah wasn't sure whether his father was addressing him, or merely thinking out loud. “They'll never understand the importance of what I do.”
Jonah turned his head. “Father...” he began hesitantly. “He sounded so sure. These Daleks... what if he's right? What if there's some threat out there, heading towards Copernicus?”
Malachi's entire body seemed to bristle in affront. “Don't start, Jonah. We've been through all this before, when you got drawn into that radical nonsense at the University. There's only one thing dangerous enough to bring destruction to Copernicus. And it isn't fantastical mutant cyborgs attacking from outer-space. It's words. Words spoken by people who are too narrow-minded and xenophobic to realise that the Ingenium are the future of this planet. Sly, insidious words that undermine the very structure of our society.”
With an unsettling twist to his stomach, Jonah couldn't help thinking that, right then, with his eyes glaring out from under his dark, beetled brows, his father looked much more fanatical than the intruder he'd just ordered to be dragged away.
“That's the enemy!” Malachi hissed, pointed in the direction the guards had taken the prisoner. “That man and all the other bigots just like him. Never forget that!”
His hand came out and clamped around Jonah's upper arm, in a grip that was nearly as strong as the Ingenium themselves. “Now, however, Galatea Inc will strike back. The hope for conciliation is long gone. Come with me, son. It's time you saw what we do to enemies of the Copernican people.”
Although still far from convinced, Jonah had no choice but to accompany his father back to Galatea Tower.
And in the background as they walked away, he could still hear the Praetor droning on, his voice hollow and monotonous, as one by one, he stubbornly continued reading the roll call of the dead.
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Post by Deleted on Oct 1, 2015 22:08:25 GMT -5
The sky rapidly filled with formations of bronze discs, shining with reflected ambient light turning the whole world the same burnished hue as their occupants. Then the skies darkened in a series of coordinated minature eclipses, shadows sweeping across the neatly lined up rows of Copernican citizens as the Dalek crafts opened their hanger hatches, each emitting a myriad of fighter pods. The pods drew ever closer, and as they came, bolts of death rained from above, whipping the crowds into panic, disintegrating random Copernicans with no care for station, age, or any other variable. Finally, the Daleks themselves began to hover across the square en masse, rounding up those that remained in the Praesidium, cowing them with further threats of destruction. The maniacal chanting of EX-TER-MINATE became overwhelming, a force unto itself.
From the heart of the fleet came the deeper, thrumming voice of the Supreme Dalek transmitting its simple command, a command to be obeyed, over every airwave available: You will turn over the Ingenium Project to us. Or you will be Ex-TER-minated," boomed the egotistical voice. It continued, "You have 700 rels to bring the in-formation and those responsible for this pro-ject to us."
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Post by Jonah Caine on Oct 21, 2015 18:02:59 GMT -5
Death rained from a clear, blue sky.
At least, that was how it seemed to the citizens of Copernicus. For the most part, thanks to the efficiency of the Praesidium Guard, the Doctor's warnings had gone unheard. Those that had been near enough to catch what he had said, had quickly written his words off as the ramblings of a madman. And so, when that first ominous shadow swooped down, blotting out the light of the sun, they had simply looked up curiously, too secure in the peace and harmony of their civilisation to even think of running.
Lined up in their thousands in the Square of Remembrance, they were easy pickings for the Daleks, like lambs waiting for the slaughter.
Standing on the dais, the Praetor was the first to die. Still solemnly intoning the list of victims of the long ago Dust Fall, the old man had been hit by a Dalek laser beam, incinerating him from the inside, his bones turning to instant charcoal. He didn't even have time to cry out.
Too late, the Copernicans realised that they were under attack, as the gleaming saucers filled the sky and searing bolts of death struck again and again, without mercy. Hundreds died in that first wave, shot down where they stood. Men, women, and children disintegrated, their bodies crumbling to dust while their neighbours ran, screaming in terror. The orderly lines of people turned to pandemonium, as the enormous crowd thrusting towards the few narrow entrances to the Square, desperate to escape, trampling many underfoot in their panic. All around them, the Praesidium burned, flames leaping high from the ruined buildings, a black pall of smoke choking the atmosphere, transforming day into a murky, unnatural twilight.
And then the Daleks themselves appeared. Alien and implacable, armoured nightmares sprung to life, they hovered down over the terror-stricken Copernicans. The pitiful survivors were herded back into the centre of the Square like animals. Any who attempted to flee were instantly executed, accompanied by inhuman, electronic screams of “EX-TER-MINATE!”, drilling into the brains of their victims, until it seemed they would never be able to hear anything else again.
Down in the lower levels of Galatea Tower, overseen by Malachi Caine, the security detachment was busy strapping the Doctor to a table tilted at a forty five degree angle, so that he was partially upright. The restraints they were using were heavy metal shackles, unbreakable and secure.
“At the maximum intensity, the pain can become so great that the subject will occasionally manage to tear themselves free,” Malachi explained conversationally to the Doctor, as he lowered what looked like a spiky wire crown on to the Time Lord's head. “An inconvenience I would prefer to avoid, as I'm sure you understand.”
Jonah stood back by the wall, his face rigid as his father fussed over the connections to the device, meticulously making sure each one was placed correctly. The boy felt sick inside. He didn't know who the old man was, and he didn't care. All he knew was that he didn't want to watch this. No matter how Malachi tried to justify it, what he was about to do was an act of torture, and his son knew it. Knew it – but had no way of stopping it.
“Let's get started, shall we?” Briskly, Malachi stepped over to the control unit and began to input some commands. “We'll begin at a lower level, just to test your resilience. After all, it would be a waste if you were to die before I've obtained the information I want.”
At that moment, a wave of static burst from the comm-system. Malachi glanced around at one of the white-coated technicians, a scowl etched across his face. “I thought I gave instructions that I wasn't to be disturbed?”
“I'm sorry, Sir,” the technician gabbled, her face pale and harried. “Something's overriding the system. I can't shut it off.”
Almost before she finished speaking, a chilling monotonal voice blared forth from the speakers.
“You will turn over the Ingenium Project to us. Or you will be Ex-TER-minated," boomed the egotistical voice. It continued, "You have 700 rels to bring the in-formation and those responsible for this pro-ject to us."
Malachi Caine's face darkened in rage as he whirled on the Doctor. “What arrogance is this?” he spat furiously. “What's going on here, old man? Is this a demand from your rebel allies? More of these 'Humans First' scum? Tell me now, or I will make you sorry you were ever born!”
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Post by Deleted on Oct 26, 2015 13:31:36 GMT -5
For his own part, the Renegade seemed -bored- if anything, not scared or even the least bit concerned, but weary that he was having to go through this kind of 'ordeal' again. Strapped down to the backboard, he eyed Malachi and ground out, "Yes, yes, can we hurry this part up, I've heard it before from better, so we can get back to saving the people of this planet? That's an inconvenience I'm trying to avoid!"
"I gave you the truth, but if you want me to lie, then please, set your machine into motion. Do hurry up, a trained circus dog could do this faster!"
"The only arrogance I see around here is you, standing front of me, stubbornly refusing to see the truth. You're a classic example of small mindedness! The Daleks -are here- and you've squandered precious time with your paranoid delusions of grandeur. People are going to die, and those left living will be those that are wishing they weren't born...this will make Dustfall look like a minor inconvenience! Now let me up so I can help, you nitwit! Ah, and in case you don't -know- 700 rels is about 15 of your planet's minutes. -Now will you hurry along, or shall we wait until more people die?"
He caught sight of Jonah and focused on him. "You there, young man! Go, get help! No, run! Run, and don't stop running. Don't look back. Hide, get yourself off this doomed world!"
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Post by Jonah Caine on Nov 2, 2015 19:36:44 GMT -5
He caught sight of Jonah and focused on him. "You there, young man! Go, get help! No, run! Run, and don't stop running. Don't look back. Hide, get yourself off this doomed world!"
Jonah hesitated, unsure what to do. He had never heard anything like that metallic voice before. His father said that the old man was a liar. But what if, just for once, his father was wrong? What if Copernicus really was in danger?
"Stay where you are, Jonah!” Malachi barked. “You're a Caine! And Caines don't follow orders from rebels and traitors!”
Whirling, he pointed a rigid index finger at the female technician. “You! I want a visual on what's going on up there!” Then, as the woman fumbled at the console, he raised his voice to a savage roar. “NOW!”
Too afraid of his father to move a muscle, Jonah watched in sympathy as the trembling technician did her best to follow Malachi's orders. One of the large screens on the wall flickered into life. And what Jonah saw then nearly stopped his heart. The Praesidium was burning... and overhead, the sky was full of alien spacecraft. Strange creatures, shaped like a human-sized pepperpot, hovered through the air, rounding up the people like sheep to a slaughter, shooting any that resisted, disintegrating their bodies and reducing them to pathetic piles of dust.
For once, Malachi Caine was lost for words, his eyes riveted to the screen in anguished disbelief. His face turned a peculiar grey, ashen colour, and he suddenly looked old, much more so than the man strapped to the table.
Clearly, some poor, terrified soul had been forced to reveal the location of the headquarters of Galatea Inc, because a ring of Daleks were closing in on the Tower. Or perhaps someone had given the information willingly enough. Someone who had no wish to die for the Ingenium Project. Feeling sick to his stomach at the dreadful scenes of carnage, Jonah could hardly blame them.
“Engage security protocols,” Malachi shouted. “Maximum levels.”
“Yes, Sir!” The technician's hands moved again over the console and a strident alarm began to wail. Heavy titanium doors began to clang into place, transforming the lower levels of Galatea Tower into an impregnable bunker. On the screen, staff were shown running in the corridors, desperately trying to dive under the doors before they closed. Those that failed were left hammering on the outside with their fists, screaming and begging to be let in.
Jonah stared in horror, as people he had known all his life were locked outside and left to die. “Father, you can't!" he objected. “You heard those creatures! If you don't hand over the Project, they'll kill everyone!”
Malachi's face was like granite. “I'm sorry, Jonah, I really am. But they're already dead, either way. You don't seriously think those things will spare any of us if we hand the Ingenium over to them? And if we do...” He flicked a harsh, despairing glance towards the Doctor, a look that bordered on hatred, needing to find someone to blame. “The consequences for the universe will be dire indeed.”
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Post by Deleted on Nov 6, 2015 18:51:59 GMT -5
"And what pray tell do you plan to do now that you've trapped yourself in here? It will only be a matter of time...and not much at that," he said gruffly. "Let me up, you damned fool!"
He looked back at the man, grey steel set in his worn face. He did not need to say that he should have listened to him, that now it was too late to save more people because in his paranoia...he should not have had to. "Let me out of this infernal contraption. Those doors will not last long under Dalek gunsticks, let alone their Special Weapons units. Then you're going to tell me exactly what the Ingenium project is!"
On the viewscreen, a swarm of Daleks had massed around the building and were pummeling it with their weaponry, sheering away the facade of the upper level and nibbling downwards...
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Post by Jonah Caine on Nov 15, 2015 0:56:28 GMT -5
"And what pray tell do you plan to do now that you've trapped yourself in here? It will only be a matter of time...and not much at that," he said gruffly. "Let me up, you damned fool!"
“No!” Malachi glared back at him, his face cold and implacable. “Time is exactly the point. Time for me to calculate how to counter this attack. My people have bought this small reprieve with their lives and I have no intention of wasting it!”
[The Doctor] looked back at the man, grey steel set in his worn face. He did not need to say that he should have listened to him, that now it was too late to save more people because in his paranoia...he should not have had to. "Let me out of this infernal contraption. Those doors will not last long under Dalek gunsticks, let alone their Special Weapons units. Then you're going to tell me exactly what the Ingenium project is!"
“That's where you're wrong, old man,” Malachi snarled. “I won't be telling you anything. Because I still don't trust you. And I certainly don't need you. For all I care, you can stay here and rot. As for the Ingenium, you shall see what they're capable of... and sooner than you think.”
With that, he stalked out of the room, surrounded by the security detail, his white-coated assistant scurrying along behind him, leaving Jonah alone with the Doctor.
The boy guessed that his father expected him also to follow, to assist him in whatever plan he came up with. After all, that's what everyone on Copernicus had always done, followed wherever Malachi Caine led. Whenever there was a decision to be made, the Council of Elders had debated it. But the dominant voice had always been Malachi's, and the vote had always been made according to his will. There had never seemed to be any doubt that his father knew best.
Now, though... now Jonah lingered, his eyes fixed on that viewscreen, as the Daleks blasted away at the tower. The sheer destructiveness and power of their weapons was enough to take his breath away. Already, the titanium barriers were beginning to smoke, the red-hot metal turning a dull cherry colour under the searing energy beams. So far, the doors were holding. However, as the old man had said... not for long. He was right about this, just as he had been right about so much else.
Jonah acted on his decision before he even knew he had made it. Three steps took him to the Doctor's side. His fingers fumbled slightly as he worked at the restraints, his face ashen at the enormity of what he was doing. Doggedly he persevered, in direct contravention of his father's orders, twisting the buckles open, until at last the old man was free.
“My name is Jonah Caine,” he said hoarsely. “Tell me what you need to know.”
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