Doctor Who: Sound-Off

DOCTOR WHO: Series 11

Episode 10:

Sound-Off

Written by Zachary Denoyer

All rights belong to BBC Studios

Prologue

1800 Hours

December 24th

The truck bounced along the road, the contents among us shaking. Sitting in front of me was a Military Police Officer. He seemed young, a bit inexperienced. You could tell he was new because he seemed happy to be here.

Placing his rifle onto his lap the MP looked toward me. The MP seemed not to want to speak out of turn but continued anyways. "So, you're the one that led the retrieval team?"

I gave the MP a dispassionate grin. "Yeah, Sergeant Wallace."

"You go by Fowler, right?"

"Go by?" I chuckled. "That's my actual name."

The MP smirked. "Yikes Sergeant, that's unfortunate."

"Yeah. I don't blame my parents. I think it fits."

Wiping away an awkward expression the MP continued. "Do you even know what you retrieved? What you guys even got all those years ago?"

Sitting back in my seat, I scratched at my beard. "No. I never asked questions. I just did my job." That was practically always my answer.

Blowing air out of his mouth in a shocked manner the MP's eyes widened. "Oh boy. I'm not supposed to say, but it's a big one Sarge. Wouldn't have called you in on Christmas Eve if it wasn't."

It started to annoy me that he kept calling me Sarge. "You can stop calling me Sarge. I'm retired."

"Apologies, sir." Looking down toward my prosthetic leg the MP examined it. His eyes darted back up to toward me. "If you didn't catch a bullet to the leg, would you still be at it?"

What kind of question is that? "Obviously I would be." I realized I didn't know the MP's name. "Hey, what's your name anyways?"

"It's—"

Suddenly the truck stopped, jolting us to the side. "Oh, we're here," said the MP as he looked out of the window of the truck. "Follow me into the hanger."

I nodded and stepped out of the truck. My eyes met an expansive base. It was rather arid tonight. But it was expected in the Mojave Desert. "So, this is Groom Lake?" I pointed out. I hadn't set foot here before. Only heard stories.

Continuing to the hanger, the MP moved to a door aside the huge hanger doors. "Yes, sir." He scanned what seemed to be an ID card and opened the door. "In here," he implored.

I wasn't going to keep him waiting. Walking through the door I was met with a blanket of darkness. It was unnerving, until a light on the ceiling highlighted our next stop. An elevator the size of a basketball court. The MP moved over the lit area and wavered me closer. "On here. No worries sir, it's one of the safest lifts in the country. This and Fort Knox."

"Right..." I walked into the light. "Do we just wait? What—"

The lift buckled as it started to descend. Even though it's been years since I got my prosthetic, I still felt awkward using it to balance. I reached down and made sure my leg was secured and looked forward, seeing lights passing by and moving upward. The lift was moving quickly, but it barely felt like it. "So," I probed, prodded, one of those, "This is Area 51? The real one?"