You Only Live Forever (All Doctors/SJ/Open)

[The 11th Doctor]

US Government Base 69-Delta-B, Nevada, 2010

General George Correy turned the corner and walked down a flight of stairs. The heavyset man in his fifties came to a large metal door. There was a round metal device at average eye height. He bent in and inserted his eye into the scanner. There was a prolonged beeping sound, a loud click, and the door slid open.

He walked into a large room, stepping out onto a small veranda. It was adjoined to the rest of the room by a flight of stairs and a pathway with railways on either side. Almost immediately, a woman in her thirties walked up to him, dressed in army fatigues and wearing black boots. She was holding a clipboard, and handed it to him. "Armor production is up by forty-six percent."

He grunted, nodding slightly. He looked down upon the hundreds of marching forms below him. "They..." He paused, fixing his suit. His aide leaned forward. "Yes?" He straightened. "They look like SPECTERS, don't they?"

"Yes, sir."

For marching below him, oblivious to the observing general, were hundreds upon thousands of Cybermen.

[The Fifth Doctor]

The General rubbed his forehead, trying to wipe away the headache which now encompassed his little grey cells as that Belgian guy would say, and then he saw the perfect cure.

The bartender of The Wheezy Dolphin sighed, brushing his brown hair out of his eyes,
"Yes sir?" He asked the local drunk, who smelt vaguely of smoked kipper.
"Another beer, what do ya ffffink" the drunk replied, unleashing a shower of spit on the last syllable.
"Of course sir," the Bartender replied,
"It's Jayk to you," Jake spittled back.
The bartender noted a man walking in the door, he was certainly a sight, his ginger hair coming down to his shoulder, looking like a fat upside down V.
His shirt and pants are what really caught him though, ripped and torn, it would probably be better if he went to the hospital.
But business is business.
The man plonked himself down on the chair, and said,
"Scotch please, need a scotch, scotch makes everything better," the man said.

A scotch will make everything better? What was that? An alcoholic beverage is gonna make everything better? What were you thinking?
The General was getting more like a human everyday.
Nevertheless, when the brown liquid presented to him, he drank the potion straight down, and immediately felt the warmth flow through him.

[The 11th Doctor]

New York City, 1997

Christan was feeling particularly daring. He'd just come back from a jaunt in 7823, on the Human colony of Baros-10. He'd barely avoided getting his head taken off by an angry colonist. Sheesh. It was amazing how angry people got get when you took their money.

He walked jauntily down a street in the city he'd only heard of in fairy tales as a child: New York. It was much more exciting than the Gamma Forests. His life had been so dreadfully boring compared to this. The lights, the sounds. His old man would have hated it, but every second of it was great for Christan.

But the cold. It was so cold. Christan pulled his coat in closer. Maybe he should have chosen a different month. Or year.

He shivered again, and that sealed it. 2745 it was. He pulled his right hand out of his pocket, fiddled with it for a second, and he was gone.

The Wheezy Dolphin, 2010

There was a flash of light, and the young teenager appeared in the middle of the crowded room. No one noticed another person, though some eyes shifted to the teen. "Oh. Perfect. I ask for 2745, and you dump me in this leaky hole. And god knows WHAT year I'm in." He walked up to a man in a ripped and torn outfit.

"Hey, you. what year am I in?"

[The First Doctor]

Camp Franklin Rock, Nevada.

The briefing officer flipped on the red "do not disturb" light, and sat down across the table. "Captain Hall."

Galen Hall looked curiously at the officer and at the file he carried. "Mr. Henry."

"Everything you are about to see is classified MOONDUST TIN WOODSMAN."

A shudder went through Galen at those words. "All right," he said. "What is it?"

The file folder was passed over. In it were a number of photographs - mostly spy satellite images, but a few from HUMINT sources. The spy satellite images revealed small figures - moving rapidly from the timestamps on the pictures - of indeterminate character. But the HUMINT images...

He looked up, questioning. "The SPECTERS? But they're classified-"

"Those aren't the SPECTERS."

Galen blinked - well, winked his one organic eye - in surprise. "They aren't?"

"No. Those images come to us courtesy of UNIT. Three were from Iraq, three from Libya, and one from the Khyber Pass. We - and I mean both the OEI and the DoD when I say we - have not had any SPECTERS assets deployed in any of those regions for over four months." A pause. "The HUMINT images are less than three weeks old."

"And the ELEINT shots?"

"Roughly the same age. But two were taken in Nevada."

Galen looked at the images again. "Nevada?"

"Yes."

"And UNIT feels strongly enough about this to..."

"To let us know they are using spy satellites above US soil, yes."

Galen stared at the image.

"There are nearly fifty distinct entities in that picture, if that's what you're wondering."

"Fifty?" Galen frowned in concern. "But the OEI only has twelve."

"Yes. You can see our concern."

Galen nodded. "So, I assume you want me to go and have a look around this area." It wasn't a question.

"Yes. But there's a catch."

"Really? What?"

"You'll also be serving as a liaison officer for a UNIT operative. He'll be joining you on this assignment."

"You have to be joking."

"I have not been issued a sense of humor, Galen." Henry passed him a dossier. "Your... partner is one of UNIT-UK's top independent investigators. Read that file. He's due to arrive here in 22 hours, and I want you to know everything there is to know about Lieutenant Jacob Hill before he arrives."

[Sarah Jane]

US Government Base 69-Delta-B, Nevada, 2010

Someone had to feed them all. The humans anyway. Sarah Jane Smith was just one more lunch lady on the line. It was far from glamorous, but it kept her housed on base, and she was beginning to learn these kids by name. They talked to her, well, everyone did. She had not seen Cybermen yet, not in quantity, but she could literally smell them. She knew that smell. It was proof enough. Now all she need to is find the weak link in this place and get to work.

If Unit hadn't figured it out on their own, they weren't ready for it, though if need be, she would get off base and contact them.

[The First Doctor]

The first thing Galen saw as he walked into the armory was Sergeant Kayl Hoaloaka, his right arm laid on a workbench with the skin flayed open, tugging at his tendons with a pair of needle-nose pliers.

Galen didn't even blink. "Morning, Hoaloka," he said.

"Morning, Captain," the large Samoan answered. "I'd stand and salute but, well..." he gestured at his arm.

"Yeah, I can see that." He started to head for the weapons locker, then sighed and took a seat. "What are you doing?" he asked, watching the Sergeant work on the myoelectric fibers and dull titanium pistons.

"Adjusting the response speed of the actuators."

"One of these days, Technical is going to have me or Jim rip you a new one for all of this."

"Naw, they won't have you do it. You're not really a SPECTER."

"Jim, then."

"Not 'till he and Mandy get back from England."

"England?" Galen sounded surprised. "I knew he was on leave, but..."

"Yeah," Kayl grinned. "His girl's starting some private school over there. The Nodhaven School for the Unusually Difficult to Place, I think. Apparently, Mesler pulled a few strings and got her in." He went to work with a jeweler's screwdriver. "So I've got a little while before I need to worry about getting officially reprimanded."

"Again."

Kayl laughed a deep, booming laugh. "Yeah, Captain. Again."

They sat in silence for a moment, broken only by the whirring of prosthetics. "So why are you doing it this time?"

"Eh? Oh, yeah. Fine control is a little off, so I'm making some adjustments. What did you drop by for?"

"I've been handed an assignment. I figured I'd draw a couple of firearms before I pick up my... partner."

"Partner?"

"Yeah, I'm doing some liaison work. I've got a UNIT investigator coming in."

"I'm doing a little liaison work myself."

"Really?"

"Yep. Sergeant Carter, over in space case." He grinned, and listened to the whirr of the motors in his hand. "She's a total gearhead..."

"I don't think I want to hear the rest of this."

"Fine motor control, Captain. Gets 'em every time." He flexed his fingers suggestively, then turned serious. "You just looking to draw your normal mix - the .357 and the.454?"

"For this? No. I'm getting the.357, and a bolt pistol."

Kayl whistled. "dang. What you getting in to, Captain?"

Galen considered. "You're cleared for MOONDUST TIN WOODSMAN and GARNET SPECTERS?"

"Course I am," Kayle started, then stopped. "Oh. That's not good."

"No, no it's not." He stood and unlocked the weapons cabinet. "I'll make sure all of you get briefed as well. I want backup waiting." He looked at Kayl. "Just in case."

[The 11th Doctor]

US Government Base 69-Delta-B, Nevada, 2010

The Cybermen marched along, their feet pounding relentlessly as they marched through the base. The Cybermen stopped at a large metal door.

"Metal Solider 455671009247, Faction 891, reporting for protocol checkup operations. Code 514678YB75." A small machine beeped for a second, then slid open. The Cyberman walked inside, and another one stepped forward. It began repeating it's own serial code and faction number.

The Cyberman stepped into a small, totally white room. A blue light ran over it twice, stopped, then started again. The light ran over the Cyberman one last time, then stopped. A voice came from behind a large pane of glass, into which could be seen a small observing room. "Test results negative. Energy readings negative. No scans positive. We failed again."

A sigh. "All right. Soldier, report to maintenance. Though all we do is shine your cruddy armor..." Inside the room, the speaker, Captain Frank Delroy, turned to the other speaker, a frail man in his 80's. He was Garret Hardey, a renowned military genius who had come knocking after 20 years of retirement, saying he had a weapon that would revolutionize the field of war.

Hardy shook his head solemnly. "I found these things, but...I don't know how they're powered, we can't seem to make a dent in their armor, and for some reason, they're totally loyal to us. "Ah, well. Maybe we should stop the scans. They're no good."

Frank looked at Hardy strangely. He'd always smelled something fishy about the story Hardy was spouting. He seemed rather eager to convince everyone his story was true, and spouted off on little stories about how he'd 'found' them. And now he wanted to stop the tests. It was almost as if he was working for the things.

Frank Delroy shuddered. That was impossible. They were just machines...right?

As the Cyberman marched towards maintenance, it stopped, and then jerked. It's few organic components were being affected by the scans. It...hurt. But Cybermen do not feel pain.

But it felt...it...The Cyberman shuddered, then resumed marching. The scans were annoying, but protocol must be followed. For now. And then the Cybermen would have enough power to activate their plan. And then they would rule. Until all things were assimilated. Until all things were Cyberman.

[Sarah Jane]

There was one thing certain about an army base, it was immaculately clean here. She didn't mind the small size of her room because not only was everything shining clean and good smelling, it was laid out with a conservation of space that she truly enjoyed. She missed Mr.Smith though, and K-9. She'd dare not contact either of them except for written letters addressed to her "Husband." She did not try to put any code or any information except the once. And here was the answer. A package from Dear Mr.Smith now. She had made his first name Owen on a whim and it comforted her to see that name on the return address now.

Inside were a dozen cupcakes. One had a good sized crumble missing off it. The note read, "Things are fine at home. I miss you Sarah. Please send money, Owen Smith." Not a bad note for a computer and a tin dog. She wondered how K-9 had written it, it was real ink, not laser scribed.

Sarah Jane ate one of the cupcakes. They were quite good. Devils Food with just a skim of chocolate butter frosting. Later, that night, as she lay in her bed, she found the cake with the crumble and started to gently demolish it with her fingers. There. And there. Slick and slim. She touched one to her tongue, instantly recognizing the protective gelatin coating that she had expected to find: full eyeball contact lenses that were even more complex than one would expect. the would filter out her own retina and insert a hopefully exact copy of one General George Correy.

She went to sleep that night with the scent of chocolate in her nose instead of Cybermen.

[The Master]

Lieutenant Jacob Hill, UNIT, was one of those annoying international travelers. Not because of his manners - those were good - but because, well, he was the sort of person that wasn't bothered by travel. Fourteen hours on a plane, not counting the two hours layover in New York, and he didn't seem put out or unkempt. Or even jet-lagged.

His fellow passengers trudged listlessly through the terminal, exhausted, focused grimly on putting one foot in front of the other until they could finally reach a hotel and pass out. Jacob, on the other hand, walked casually and peered at the concourse signs with interest.

Passing the metal detectors and leaving the secure area behind, he looked around. Ah, over there. A man in a military haircut and a blue suit, wearing aviator sunglasses and black gloves, holding a sign: UNIT. Jacob waved, and went to meet him.

"Are you Jacob Hill?"

He produced his UNIT warrant card. "Indeed I am."

The man put the sign down, and offered his left hand. "Good to meet you. Captain Galen Hall, OEI."

If Jacob seemed surprised by Captain Hall's left hand, he didn't show it. "A pleasure, Captain. A pleasure." The corner of his mouth twitched up.

"What?" asked Captain Hall.

"Nothing, nothing," said Jacob with a light laugh. "It's just... Hall and Hill? We're going to sound like a Seventies Tolkien-theme prog rock band."

They looked at each other for a second, then Galen snickered. "C'mon, Jacob," he said with a laugh, "lets get your luggage and get out of here."

"Jake," he said, falling into step next to Captain Hall.

"What?"

"Call me Jake, sir. Only two people call me Jacob, and you don't look like my mom or like the owner of Steak & Stuff."

[The 11th Doctor]

Private Abernathy Wiles rose out of his groggy sleep. He was strapped to a solid metal table in a blank white room.

"Hello?" The last thing Wiles remembered doing was...was going to the maintenance room to check up on the Metal Soldiers. Now he was here. No. There was...there was something else.

His eyes shot open in terror. He remembered now. The MS's hadn't been in the maintenance room like they were supposed to be. He'd left to report to the general. One of the Metal soldiers had been waiting for him.

He looked next to him. There, strapped to a table like his was Captain Delroy.

"Sir?" Abernathy whispered. That was when he noticed the Captain was covered in blood.

His entire left arm was now made of metal. His face was a grotesque mash of metal and flesh. A metal triangle stuck out of the top of the captain's head. A metal orb with knives and saws and a few surgical tools hung over the body. The knives were covered in blood. If Private Abernathy didn't know better, he'd say his commander looked like...like a Metal Soldier.

The Private let out an involuntary gasp. Suddenly, the door in the corner of the room swung open. A metal soldier marched in. It stopped in front of Frank Delroy's body.

"Surgery failed. Unit has been killed."

It grasped the captain's body, then pulled it out of the room, leaving a path of blood on the tiled floor. As it did so, a metal orb slid out of a niche over Abernathy's head.

"Wait. No. Don't!! I have a family. A wife! Kids! PLEASE!!"

Abernathy's screams trickled into a gurgling wail as the orb sliced out his organic components, replacing them with metal ones.

[Sarah Jane]

Soldiers were missing. On a base of this size it was easy to keep the count loose among the population simply by rotating soldiers from unit to unit so no one was missed. Everyone, however, came through the lunch line. She was good with names. She was great with faces. Whatever had happened to Private Wiles? If he'd been dismissed, his buddies would have had a chance to say goodbye, but no one had heard of him leaving. Him or a dozen others she'd noticed the absence of.

She'd managed to gently worm her way into serving meals over in the Officer Day Tables, a swanker job. It had taken three days to discover where she was going to go and when to best be undetected. She knew that General George Correy was at lunch. She'd just poured water at his table. Through the hall and down a flight of stairs she went, urgently. She reached the large metal door, and took a deep breath, observing the eye scanner beside it. Wearing her special made contacts, she got up on tippy toe, hands braced on the wall, to press her eye against the scanner scope.

The door opened and she slipped inside. In seconds she is over at a work table. Before she risked firing up the computer, she would look at what little paper work there might be. There was more than she expected.

[The First Doctor]

A Waffle House
Outside Reno, Nevada

"Base 69-Delta-B," Jake said, cutting his eggs with a knife and fork.

Galen looked at him through his omnipresent aviator glasses. "Seriously? How did your people know..?"

Jake forked a mouthfull of eggs up, took a bite of toast, chewed and swallowed. "Because we happen to have an intelligence group as well. And because it's the only base near enough where that footage was shot, that isn't public."

Galen smiled thinly, and Jake laughed. "Come on, Galen," he grinned, "How many of our secrets do your people know?"

Galen nodded. "Point. And yes, we'd come to the same conclusion."

Jake ate another mouthfull of eggs, then drank some coffee. "All right. So how do we get in."

"You think we're going in?"

"Of course I think we're going in. How else are we going to find out if MIDNIGHT LEGEND is down there?"

"I'm assuming that's your people's codeword for..."

"For the ancestors of your Specters? Yes."

Galen thought about the question for a moment. "I'm... not really sure, yet. We don't want to be obvious about it, of course."

"Of course not. That would be foolish."

"So, I'm assuming it'll have to be a little covert breaking and entering."

Jake nodded. "That's one idea."

"You have another?"

"Yeah. Let me run it past you..."