Walk The Earth: Doctor Who/Studio C [Book 2]

The Enemy Within

The Enemy Within

Stars are only visible in darkness / Fear is ever changing and evolving. -Imagine Dragons, 'Battle Cry'

A/N: Some of the dialogue in this chapter (and future chapters, particularly the arc that'll start in Japan) is lifted from The Story of Martha, one of the Doctor Who companion books. Anything recognizable is not mine. Capiche? Capiche.

"Agent Rath."

"Master." The UCF agent gave a respectful nod of his head, trying not to gawk at the corridors of the Valiant. Compared to Boston, this place was paradise. No wonder the Powers-That-Be—also known as the Time Lord in front of him—never deigned to leave the aircraft carrier and walk upon the Earth he'd subjugated.

Rath wisely kept that thought to himself. He had quite an attachment to this plane of existence, and mouthing off to now-established be-all, end-all authority on this planet was not the way to remain in it.

"You're aware of why you're here?" The Master took a seat in one of the black office chairs, spinning around in it. He might have given the distinct impression of an overgrown child if it weren't for the set of his face and the deadly look in his eyes.

"No, sir," Rath said, standing stiffly instead of taking a seat. "I was informed that my orders had been changed and I was to receive my new ones on board the HMS Valiant. That's all I know, sir. Though I must say it is an honor to receive them directly from you, sir."

"Well, yes, of course it is," the Master said with a smirk. "Have a seat, Agent."

Rath did as he was bid, trying to ignore the slouched frame of an unfamiliar, elderly man from not far away. Beyond that, the only other occupants of the room were a few of the Master's stone-faced personal guards.

The Time Lord took a small bottle of amber liquid from where it sat on the table, pouring two glasses and passing one to Rath, who eyed it warily.

"Come now, have a drink," the Master chided. "It's only whiskey." He took a sip from his own glass.

"With all due respect, sir, I'd rather not." Beyond the rumors, Rath himself had quickly judged the Master as a vindictive, mercurial creature, and he wanted his wits about him while dealing with the Time Lord.

The Master's eyes narrowed and Rath suppressed a shudder. "Don't you trust me?" he asked lightly.

"I don't make a habit of trusting anyone other than myself," the agent answered flatly, before adding, "Sir."

The Master gave a grin that could almost be described as warm if it appeared on any other face, before giving a short laugh. "Well done, Agent Rath. I like you."

"I'm flattered, sir."

"Yes," the Time Lord said, as if he hadn't heard. "Yes, I think you're just the man for the job."

Rath raised a brow. "Sir?"

"You are aware of a certain... irritant... that has so far managed to elude my grasp, known as Mallory Everton, are you not?"

"I am, sir. It's a pity she didn't come across the Atlantic sooner—if she'd made landfall in Boston before we lost our port, I'm quite certain my men could have delivered her to you some time ago."

"Do you believe they are capable?"

Rath straightened his shoulders, genuine pride in his voice. "Many of my men are among some of the most elite soldiers this world has to offer, sir. There's a reason Boston has offered no trouble to you since we arrived."