Sub Division
A short story by Mark Simpson

Part of the Eighth Doctor Fiction collection
and fifth in the Division Series

"Position?"

"Five nautical miles to target, sir," came the reply from the radar operator.

"Maintain course and speed. E.T.A.?"

"At current course and speed, thirty four minutes, sir," replied the navigator.

"Very good," said Captain Harris. "Carry on, men."

***

The sound of machinery covered the usually raucous arrival of the TARDIS.

Fitz was first out, walking straight into a pipe at head height. The young man swore colourfully, clutching his forehead.

"Do you mind? There's a lady present," said Sheri, exiting the time machine more carefully than Fitz had.

"I don't mind at all," Fitz said, shaking his head as if he could clear it. He looked back at the TARDIS, wondering how he could have failed to see the pipe.

The TARDIS had shrunk. Normally standing over seven feet tall, it was now a little over five feet. He couldn't remember ducking as he left.

The Doctor smiled slightly as he locked the door. "Dimensional readjustment," he said, indicating the machinery brushing the shrunken roof. "It changes as you cross the threshold."

"Thanks for telling me," Fitz moaned, knowing he would have a monster headache later.

"Are we on a ship?" Sheri asked. She had noticed a slight movement under her feet.

"More likely a submarine," the Doctor replied, examining a bank of dials and switches. "You might feel a slight pressure in your ears."

"Any idea when?" Fitz inquired, beginning to take an interest in his surroundings.

"Well, this looks like a Polaris system, so anywhere between the early 60's and the 80's, I suppose."

Fitz smiled. "I could be home."

Sheri frowned. Whatever, it's all history to me."

"Exploration would tie it down further," the Doctor said, heading for the nearest door.

"It might also alert the crew to our presence," Fitz reminded him.

The Doctor paused. "Good point. Stowaways will be treated with suspicion, whichever year it is. Maybe we should return to the TARDIS."

He turned away from the door, just as the wheel in the centre spun and it opened behind him. Two seamen with rifles entered.

"Whoever you are, you're under arrest!"

Fitz sighed. "Here we go again."

***

"Stowaways?" Captain Harris exclaimed. "But that's impossible! We've been at sea for over six months. Three people would have been found long before now."

"Doesn't change the fact that they're here now, sir," said his First Mate, George Henderson.

"I suppose not," Harris said. "Send them in. I'd like to know how they got aboard."

They were an odd trio that trooped into Captain Paul Harris' small office. The older man looked like he should be going to a fancy dress party, with his green velvet jacket, cravat and long, brown curly hair. The younger man had a days-growth of stubble on his chin and a generally scruffy appearance, while the woman, of a similar age to the other two, had short dark hair and was dressed in a smart but casual manner.

The fancy dressed man held out his hand to Harris, grinning. "Hello, Captain. I'm the Doctor and these are my friends, Fitz and Sheri." When he realised his outstretched hand wasn't going to be shaken, the Doctor withdrew it and put it behind his back with the other one.

"Fitz, eh?" Harris repeated, shifting his gaze to the younger man. "German?"

"My father was," Fitz admitted stiffly.

"East or West?" growled Harris.

"Does it matter?" Fitz retorted.

"When you've been discovered hiding away on a submarine of Her Majesty's Navy, I would say it matters rather a lot!"

Fitz glanced at the Doctor, who nodded slightly. "West," he said.

"And you expect me to believe you?"

"Well, you asked the question!" Fitz exploded. "If you don't like the answer, you shouldn't have asked."

"I should have you all clapped in irons," Harris said. "How did you get aboard anyway? We've been at sea for months!"

"On past form, you wouldn't believe me if I told you," the Doctor replied mildly.

Harris, his face flushed with anger, stood toe to toe with the Time Lord. "Don't give me any cheek, boy. I asked you a question!"

The Doctor opened his mouth to answer when the speaking tube beside Harris' desk whistled.

The Captain answered quickly. "Yes?" A pause. "I'll be right there."

He replaced the tube and turned to his guests. "I have business to attend to. Until it's concluded, the three of you can take it easy. You're going to the brig!"

***

"Report!" Harris demanded as he strode onto the bridge.

"Seven hundred yards and closing, sir," replied the navigator.

"All ahead slow," the Captain ordered.

"Ahead slow, aye," came the reply.

The bridge was silent except for the steady ping of the sonar contact, increasing in pitch as they approached their mysterious target.

"Distance?" Harris asked.

"Five hundred yards, sir."

Five seconds later, the power failed.

***

The Doctor, Sheri and Fitz were being marched along a corridor by two marines with rifles. One in particular seemed to enjoy prodding Fitz in the back and saying, "Move it, Commie lover!"

Immediately after one such shove, the lights went out. So Fitz had a pretty good idea where to swing his right hook to connect precisely with the marines jaw.

When the emergency lighting came on, Fitz was standing over the unconscious sailor, rubbing his bruised fist. The Doctor had dealt with the other guard more quietly, but no less efficiently.

They locked the two marines in a storeroom and relieved them of their rifles and handguns. Fitz armed himself with a rifle and pressed a pistol into Sheri's hand, which she took grudgingly. The Doctor, as ever, declined any weapon.

"Right, let's get out of here," Fitz said.

The Doctor frowned. "I think we should find out what knocked out the power first."

"Why?" Fitz demanded. "Let's just be grateful and not look a gift horse in the mouth."

"I've got a feeling there's something more behind all this," the Doctor said.

"Something alien?" Sheri asked.

The Time Lord nodded. "I've got a feeling deep in my bones that something unnatural is going on."

Fitz groaned. He knew the Doctor's feelings of old. Any moment now he was going to suggest they investigate.

"I think we should investigate," the Doctor said. Fitz just shook his head.

***

"What happened?" Harris asked of anybody he thought could supply an answer.

"All power is dead, sir," First Mate Henderson replied. "No explanation, just a complete power drain. Emergency lighting is working off battery power, but that's all. Even life support is off."

"How long can we last?" Harris inquired in a more hushed tone.

"A little over four hours," came the grim reply.

Harris glared at the ceiling, unsure what to do, when a voice sounded behind him.

"Can I help at all?"

Harris spun around to see the Doctor and his friends standing behind him. The deep red emergency lighting made the Doctor look almost demonic.

"How did you get free? Guards!"

"I wouldn't," Fitz warned, brandishing his captured rifle.

"I knew you were commie spies," growled Harris, waving his men away.

The Doctor sighed. "We're nothing of the sort, we just don't like being locked up when there is a chance we can help." He looked pointedly at Fitz.

"You're kidding," the young man said, catching on quickly to what the Doctor wanted him to do.

"No I'm not, Fitz. Give the Captain your gun."

For a moment, it looked like Fitz was going to protest further. Then he handed the rifle to Captain Harris.

"Now, I want you three taken to the brig," Harris commanded, covering them with the rifle.

"What would be the point of that?" the Doctor asked mildly. "So we can die of suffocation before you can question us? I heard what you said. The life support systems can only function for another four hours."

There was a murmur among the crew, who didn't know this. Harris looked undecided.

"We'll fix the problem long before then," he said unconvincingly.

"Somehow, I don't think the problem is in here," the Doctor said, indicating the entire submarine with his hands.

"What do you know about it?" Harris challenged.

"What were you sent to investigate?" the Doctor asked in return. "A meteor that fell into the sea? That gave off strong magnetic fields? That might have come from space?"

"A Russian satellite," Harris confirmed grudgingly. "NATO wanted to get to it before they retrieved it. so they sent us as we were closest."

The Doctor frowned. "If I'm right, that's not Russian satellite out there."

"What do you think it is? A spaceship from Venus?"

"Hardly. The Venusians never developed space travel, that's how they died out. No, that craft is from much further a field."

"Stuff and nonsense. You're trying to make me forget you're just a prisoner here."

"We're all prisoners here, until the power drain is reversed," the Doctor said fiercely. "Now, if you'll just co-operate with me, I might just be able to help you and save all your lives in the process."

"What can we do, Doctor?" asked Sheri from behind the Time Lord.

He thought for a moment. "I need to go over to the craft and see if I can manually shut down whatever is draining the energy."

"But you can't go outside," protested Henderson. "At this depth, you'll be crushed!"

"If I don't try, you'll all suffocate in the next three and a half hours!"

***

"Can't you use the TARDIS?" asked Sheri as she and the Doctor made their way back to the craft.

The Doctor shook his head. "If I'm right, the TARDIS will be experiencing a power drain too," he explained.

He was right. As they entered the console room, the dim lights and thin air bore testament to his theory.

Fortunately, it didn't take the Doctor long to find what he was looking for. Five minutes to scramble in and power up the battery powered controls and he was ready.

"Wow!" Sheri exclaimed. "Sigourney Weaver, eat your heart out!"

The Doctor stepped carefully from the TARDIS, ducking to avoid the low pipes. He was wearing a hydraulically powered diving suit, which hissed every time he moved.

"Now, which way was it to the airlock?"

***

"Good luck, Doctor," Fitz called as he spun the wheel to seal the inner door of the airlock.

"He's mad," Harris murmured. "The pressure will crush him."

"The Doctor said there is a built-in force field, which will keep the pressure off him," Sheri explained to the Captain.

"Stuff and nonsense," he muttered.

They heard the outer hatch open, then close with a clang. The Doctor was gone.

"Let's hope it's not nonsense," Fitz said, leading the way back to the bridge. "Because the Doctor is the only chance we've got."

***

Blackness all around him. The Doctor reached up and activated the battery powered search lamp embedded in the top of his helmet.

That was better. He was standing at the centre of a cone of light. Consulting his wrist detector, he turned in the direction of the mystery craft.

Five minutes slow walk brought him to the metallic bulk of the intruder. He ran his gloved hands across the outer surface. Definitely not made by man. He swung his head back, casting the searchlight upwards, looking for some clue as to the origin of the ship.

Above him was a hatchway, sunken into the side. Beside it were indentations, leading down. A way in. Slowly, the Doctor climbed the makeshift ladder in the side of the craft, until he reached the doorway.

Another airlock greeted him. So the aliens breathed a form of air. Encouraging. He tried to open the hatch.

As he did so, the light began to dim. He felt a slight pressure above him. Consulting the wrist unit, he saw that he was losing suit power. If he didn't get inside soon, he would be crushed.

***

Minutes crawled by inside the submarine. Nobody spoke, because nobody had anything to say. Eventually, the silence was broken.

"He's failed. I knew he would."

"You don't know that at all," Fitz snapped at Captain Harris. "The Doctor won't let us down."

"Face it, lad, the Doctor is dead, crushed by the pressure outside this submarine. Soon, when the air runs out, we'll be joining him."

"The Doctor isn't dead," Fitz replied with certainty. "He'll come through. You just wait and see."

Too tired to argue any more, Harris resumed his silence.

***

The Doctor felt a latch plate under his questing fingers and pressed it. Nothing happened, except the force pressing him down increased slightly.

Knowing he didn't have long, the Doctor pressed again, harder. This time he was rewarded by a shifting of the door under his hand. It gave way, letting him into the airlock.

The Doctor let out a relieved breath as the door closed behind him. He was soon through the other door into the main part of the craft.

It was really quite small, possibly an automatic probe. There were no seats for crew or cabins to be found, or any remains.

He identified the planet of origin from the style of the control panel. This was a Benolian craft. They were a generally peaceful people, curious about other races, but rather timid. Hence most of their probes tended to be automatic.

This one had malfunctioned, causing it to crash. When a handy power source had approached, the auto-repair systems had leached the power to begin their repair programme.

Running a diagnostic from the main control panel, the Doctor decided that the craft would never fly again, even if it had a fleet of nuclear submarines to draw power from. The best thing he could do was to shut it down.

Making sure there was enough reserve energy in the power cells to run one last command, he shut down the auto-repair systems. As he did so, he saw the light from his helmet strengthen.

He checked the reading on his wrist unit. "Hmmm. Should be enough to keep the force field running until I return to the sub," he decided. Then he crossed his fingers, just in case.

***

The air was getting very thin and a number of sailors had fallen asleep to preserve what oxygen remained. So there wasn't that many people awake when the lights came on.

Fitz had been resting his eyes, head slumped on his chest. Leaning against him, Sheri had been asleep.

At first the harsh light and hum of returning power didn't register. Then, his dulled senses caught up with the evidence of his eyes and ears.

"He did it!" Fitz croaked. "The Doctor did it!" he shouted.

A ragged cheer went up from around the bridge as the sailors, most of whom hadn't expected to wake up, stirred to find themselves reprieved.

Sheri, still a little bleary eyed, grinned at her friend. "We're safe."

He nodded, getting stiffly to his feet. "I said the Doctor would come through for us," he reminded Captain Harris.

"So you did," Harris replied, shaking off the light headed feeling. "But did he come through for himself?"

***

Fitz breathed a sigh of relief as the airlock door clanged shut behind the Doctor. Minutes later, the Time Lord was back aboard.

His companions were both there to greet him, along with a grudging Captain Harris.

"Have we the power to move yet?" the Doctor asked, removing his helmet.

Harris nodded. "We can be underway at any time."

"I think you should remove us from the vicinity," the Doctor told him. "I set the craft out there to self destruct in," he consulted his pocket watch, "four minutes."

Harris moved to a speaking tube and barked commands. Then he looked at the Doctor. "How far?"

"A mile should suffice," the Time Lord replied.

Harris nodded and returned to the bridge of the submarine.

***

The Doctor had returned briefly to the TARDIS to remove his diving suit. Back in his normal clothes, he stood on the bridge beside Sheri and Fitz, awaiting the explosion.

They felt a slight tremor and the sub rocked briefly. The Doctor smiled.

"Right on time," he said, watch in hand.

As things returned to normal around them, the trio slipped away.

***

Fitz paused on the TARDIS threshold. He turned to his two friends.

"I was talking to the First Mate. He tells me it's 1965 out there. I'm almost home." He paused. "I think I should take the chance of returning to a normal life. George says that they're putting into a Scottish base in a few days. He can slip me past the guards, no questions asked. Even Captain Harris agrees."

The Doctor smiled slightly. This day always came, eventually. They always left, in the end.

"The only problem is," Fitz continued, "after that business with Doctor Roley..."

The Doctor nodded, recalling his first meeting with Fitz. Their departure had left a number of bodies behind, including Fitz's mother. If he turned up two years later, the police might have a number of very awkward questions.

"Give me a couple of minutes," the Doctor said, slipping inside the TARDIS.

Fitz and Sheri were sat against the bulkhead, talking when the Doctor returned half an hour later. He presented Fitz with a handful of documents.

Fitz studies them. Driving licence, social security card, employment references, national insurance details and a bundle of fresh bank notes. The documents bore the name Arthur Walford.

The young man smiled at the Time Lord. "Thanks, Doctor," he said simply.

"A pleasure," the Doctor replied. They shook hands firmly. "Do you want to collect some stuff from the TARDIS?"

Fitz shook his head. "Fitz Kreiner travels light. Or rather, Arthur Walford does." He hugged Sheri and began to back away from his friends. "Now go, before I change my mind!"

The Doctor waved one last time and entered the TARDIS. Sheri paused on the threshold.

"Good luck, Fitz."

"You too. And look after him, won't you? He gets into awful trouble sometimes."

"I will," she promised. Then she too was gone, followed shortly after by the TARDIS itself.

Fitz sighed, stuffing his new identity into the inside pocket of his leather jacket. He paused to wipe a few stray tears from his eyes before leaving to find a bunk for the next couple of days.

