ALTERNATE TALES OF THE STAR FORCE

STAR BLAZERS---FIXING A HOLE

Being the second part of THE RIKASHA INCIDENT--- BY: Frederick P. Kopetz


ACT SIX-THE END (Part "A")


I. KEYSTONE (two)

St. Joseph's Hospital

Personal Office of Dr. Gisewski--Luzerne County Coroner Hazleton, PA

Friday, June 23, 1967 1:45 PM, Local Time


Artwork: Observers at a Meeting, June 1967

computer-drawn by Frederick P. Kopetz

"I have no idea what we've walked into," said Dr. Gisewski, "but I know one thing for sure; this whole business is nothing but a big damn nightmare."

The old man sighed, slamming the dossier on Frank McCauley's autopsy down on the brown top of his ugly grey institutional desk. "Can you tell me what's goin' on, Lambert?"

"No, I can't, doc," said his younger assistant.

"I can tell you, just as I have been telling you all afternoon," snapped Mitzi Shavirov, who was sitting on an equally ugly olive drab filing cabinet, which leaned against the dirty white wall of the drab hospital office. "Earth is under attack by an alien force. An alien force which is only getting nastier and nastier as time goes by. My two friends here, from the future, are an attestation to that fact. And that's why I need that dossier, Doctor Gisweski."

Nova Wildstar looked at her husband, Captain Derek Wildstar, (who thought she looked very appealing standing there on tiptoes in her shorts and flip-flops) and then she looked to her left to look at Mitzi, who was sitting on the same big ugly filing cabinet that Nova was leaning on. "If I were you, I'd give it to her," suggested Nova.

"Why?" insisted Gisewski. "How do we know you're really from the future? This file belongs to the county, to begin with, and what's..."

"HEY! You can't go in there!" cried a female voice on the other side of the door. "That's the Coroner's private office, you drunk; you damn hippies, you...!"

The wooden door smashed against the wall, and in burst Melvin Seadragon, Bryan Hartcliffe, and Paul Rosstowski.

"Melvin! Hartcliffe! Rosstowski! What are you doing here?" cried Captain Wildstar.

"Well, we were here to take you and Nova back to the ship, sir," began Hartcliffe. "But, this guy says that we have other business. After what he pulled in the car on the way here, I believe him."

"Listen, Wildstar, or whatever your name is..." said Gisewski. "Are you about to tell me that these three idiots are from the future?"

"Just him and him," said Derek, pointing to Hartcliffe and Rosstowski. "The fellow with the beard is an alien, believe it or not."

Mitzi Shavirov nodded at that. "I don't quite know Wildstar's associates here, but he's telling the truth about this man," said Mitzi as she got up and put an arm around Melvin (although not too closely-he stank.)

Nova looked at Melvin, wrinkling her nose somewhat. "Thanks for arriving...and bringing Rosstowski and Hartcliffe. What do you two want?"

A muffled voice came over a small radio that Rosstowski was holding. "Hello, Rosstowski?"

Derek sat up. "That's Venture! That's a comlink?"

Paul nodded. "Yessir. Sandor built it...I..."

"Give it to me, Mister," snapped Derek.

"Yessir," said Rosstowski, who gladly handed it over.

"Rosstowski?" asked Venture from the device.

Taking a guess, Derek thumbed a button on the device. "Hello, Venture?"

"Wildstar!" cried Venture. His joy was evident by the tone of his voice. "Are Hartcliffe and Rosstowski all right? Where's Nova?"

"Right here," said Nova. "Rosstowski and Hartcliffe are here with us in an office in a 20th century hospital."

"Is this line secure?" demanded Captain Wildstar.

"It works through modulated neutrinos; no one on contemporary Earth can even detect this, let alone listen in," said Sandor. "Am I glad to hear that you're all right, sir. The Argo's in orbit over the dark side of the moon right now. Are you coming back soon? We have just seventeen hours and forty-five minutes left before we're trapped here forever. You'd better get back soon."

"We will," said Wildstar. "But we have an errand to finish here in this time. You know the enemy commander who was after us?"

"Yes. He attacked the ship," said Venture. "We got one of his fortresses with the wave gun. As for the other one..."

"Venture. Listen," said Wildstar. He's here on Earth and he wants to wreck the past by assassinating four very prominent individuals in this time; namely, the four Beatles. An alien agent named Melvin Seadragon told us that a while ago. He also has helped us."

"How much time will you need to stop the enemy?" asked Venture.

"We have to go to Washington D.C. to meet with some people in our secret organization, and our scientific advisor, from the same organization." said Mitzi. "The drive down and the train ride from Philadelphia will take about five hours. Then, we'll be flying down, which'll take about ten hours, and...this'll be cutting it tight...way tight."

"Damnit, I got a solution," said Melvin.

"Do you?" demanded Mitzi. "You don't have your TARDIS here, do you?"

"No, I'm afraid not," he said after a moment. "But I know someone who's got a TARDIS. And he'll be in Washington."

“Who?” asked Shavirov.

“Doctor John Smith….that’s who,” said Melvin.

"Ah. We'll have to drive to Washington and then take the train down," said Mitzi. "Captain, Nova, bring your friends and come on."

"Wildstar...where are you?" said Venture's voice over the radio.

"With Mitzi Shavirov, a U.S. government agent that we've met up with. I'll answer your questions later, on the way to Washington, D.C."

"Washington?" demanded Venture, who was standing next to Homer. "What are you going to be doing down there?"

"We're at least...known of by a branch of the government linked to an international organization who knows about such things. It appears...at least in this time frame, that Earth was visited by aliens before the Gamilons found it."

"Sandor?" asked Venture.

"This may be an alternate universe, and then again, it may not. We can't take the risk of having the flow of time ruined, Venture. If the Captain knows that this is definitely a threat to Earth, even if it's just a chance it's our Earth, we'd better let him do what he can to solve the problem and then get back to the ship ASAP, " said Sandor.

"Wildstar?" asked Venture.

"Mark, I'm ordering you to give us enough time to finish this. We are now in 1967. If the time stream is altered here, 1968 might then become a year of world revolution and possibly world war rather than a year in which there were simply a few local protests and local actions because the youth generation went berserk because they would have thought the Establishment had the Beatles killed to silence their message of world peace and love.  If we fail to return to the ship...you are to leave without us and hope that history somehow remains the same. We can get there in more than enough time to accomplish our mission now. Wildstar out."

"Wildstar?" cried Venture as the speaker went dead. "Wildstar!"

"Venture, he's given us an order," said Sandor. "We've got to obey it."

"He had better get back in time. We need him," said Venture before he snapped, "Sandor, you take command for a bit."

"Have to go off and think?"

Mark just nodded his head.

"Understood," said Sandor as Mark left the bridge.


In Hazleton, Mitzi smiled as she noticed that Gisewski still had the dossier. "I'll take that. Oh, by the way, you and Lambert are under arrest," she said cheerfully as she withdrew her gun and held it on them. "We're going by train to Washington and then heading straight to a section of the Pentagon that no one knows about. Lower sixth level, alpha-bravo-delta six, Melvin."

"Right," said Melvin. "Wish I had me TARDIS with me. Is there another way out...past our friends outside? They've got cops now. I can hear 'em."

"We're on the first floor," said Nova. "I think we can go out the window."

"Sounds good," said Mitzi. "You two first," she said as she waved the gun on Gisewski and Lambert.

They went, Shavirov went, and then Derek went. When he got out the window, standing to help Nova down, Nova said, "This is sort of fun...isn't it?"

"Why?"

"Reminds me of sneaking out of the house when I was about eight."

"Alex and I did that at times, too," said Derek as his wife climbed out.

Melvin came last. "Who goes first?" he asked.

"I will," she said. "Nova, Derek, you get into my car with me..."

They did. Melvin got into his car with Hartcliffe and Rosstowski, and they had two government cars bringing up the rear. With that, off they went.


It was a bit of a drive. Mitzi had a detachable flasher on her dash, and Derek, being bigger, rode up front with her. Nova sat directly behind Shavirov in the back seat, stretching her long legs on the seat so she'd have more room. She had also kicked off her flip-flops to make the ride a little more comfortable.

"Where do we have to drive to?" asked Nova.

"Philadelphia," replied Shavirov as they swung off 309 onto a road called PA Route 209. "We'll soon be on the main road, and then we'll take the turnpike down the valley to Philadelphia."

"What town is this?" asked Derek about a half hour later.

"Jim Thorpe," replied Mitzi as they drove over a mountain with their caravan behind them. "The turnpike's just a few minutes away."

They got onto the Northeast Extension of the Pennsylvania Turnpike at a town known as Lehighton. After roaring through a tunnel that went under the mountains, they went south towards the Lehigh Valley. Passing the rest stop, Nova noticed that what she knew as "Allensburg" was still called "Allentown" back in these times.

After about an hours' worth of driving, they got off the Turnpike and went down Route 1 to Philadelphia. Stopping at a typical 1960’s McDonald's at Roosevelt Boulevard and Red Lion Road, they went in and had a quick meal. While they ate, Rosstowski asked Captain Wildstar, "What about our transport?"

"What transport?"

"Our Starseeker recon boat. We left it up in an abandoned mine shaft up in the mountains."

"We can't talk about that too much," said Derek. "Let's just hope that no one finds it."


Unknown to Rosstowski and Wildstar, it was being found at that very moment...but not by Terrans.

"You said it was here, Lord High Protector?" asked one of the eight armored Technomugar shocktroops who accompanied Gralnacz, who was now in his blue uniform and black cloak, not even bothering to disguise himself for this task.

None of the troopers were disguised either. All of them were in standard adaptable Technomugar shocktroop armor, which in this case, was colored woodland camo green to match the forest environment. However, they still looked threatening, alien, and creepy as they patrolled the mouth of the mine shaft that Hartcliffe and Rosstowski had found a few hours ago. The indicator lights on their breastplates flashed strangely in unison with the bodily functions of the troopers' cyborg bodies.

Artwork: Technomugar Trooper  © 2000 by Frederick P. Kopetz

All in all, they looked like a blot of evil on an otherwise clear summer day in the woods.

"It is here, you idiot!" hissed Gralnacz. "Right in the mine tunnel!"

"Of course, sir," said the troopers' squad leader with a snapped-arm salute after looking in. "It's here, all right! This way, men."

"What do we do?" asked another trooper.

 

"Five of you, follow me; we'll incinerate that ship. Hidalga, Korant, you stay out there with the Lord High Protector. If any Earthers show up, do not attempt to communicate. Incinerate them alive. If they resist, take them alive so we can take them back to the ship and teach them a lesson in the torture suite."

"Right, sergeant."

As Gralnacz stood smiling, the sergeant and his men placed charges all over the Star Force jet recon boat. They came out, and the sergeant nodded once. Gralnacz nodded back, and then the sergeant pushed a small button on his belt buckle.

Flame and smoke blew out of the mouth of the mine shaft, which caved in on the burning jet recon boat a moment later.

"Now they can't get back to their ship," said the sergeant.

"I just need to separate them from the two rotten half-breed Time Lords who are helping them," replied Gralnacz. "Don't ask me about it; I'll handle it on my own in London. Shhh," added their commander.

"Lord...?"

"Silence, Travar. Two hunters are approaching. Deal with them."

Travar saluted in reply and he spread out his men with a hand signal.

"Hey, who's there?" yelled a voice with a distinct American accent.

Travar dropped his hand, and blaster fire rang out in the forest.

The first man who had spoken collapsed, dead before he even hit the ground. The second man was hit three times, leaving one of his legs a smoking stump.

"DAMN!" he cried out. He was a young man, of about eighteen or twenty. "What the hell did you guys kill my dad for? HUH? I..."

"Silence the Earthling," ordered Gralnacz. "And speak Terran, please. Let him KNOW what's in store for him."

"Of course," said Travar in Terran. Smiling under his face mask, Travar slapped the young man across the face with his metal-armored hand so hard that it knocked out three teeth.

"Take him," said Gralnacz. "On the ship, you shall teach him not to interfere with us. Enjoy your fun, sergeant. This is the first Earther we've taken. Put him through a living death in the torture suite, my friend."

Travar saluted, and he and three of his troopers grabbed the young man, one by the stump of his leg.

"What planet are you taking me to? What sort of monsters are you? You won't get away with this! HELLLPPP! NO!!!!! THAT HURRRTS! MOTHER!!" screamed the young man as he was hauled up onto their shoulders.

Gralnacz clapped once, and the alien band teleported back to their Goraizu Fortress.


The Wildstars, Shavirov, Melvin, Rosstowski, Hartcliffe, and the others finally arrived at 30th Street Station in Philadelphia and purchased tickets for the next train to Washington, D.C. It just happened to be the Senator, one of the Pennsylvania Railroad’s premier trains.

Before long, they were on the platform, waiting for the train to arrive from North Philadelphia. In a short time, a line of deluxe aluminum 1950’s streamlined coaches with Tuscan Red stripes led by a silver and Tuscan Red Pennsylvania Railroad GG-1 electric locomotive pulled in and stopped at the underground platform at the grand old 30th Street Station.

Rosstowski smiled at Hartcliffe. "Look at that, I got my wish. Isn't that old-fashioned 1930's locomotive beautiful?"

“It sure is,” Nova said, looking at the old electric locomotive, which still looked somewhat “futuristic” even to those from the 23rd Century, with its clean, sweeping Art Deco Lines. “And look at those shiny stainless steel cars, Derek!” she said as she walked down the platform. “Where are we sitting?”

“The back of the train,” said Mitzi Shavirov. “That parlor car in the back is where we have our reservations made.”

“Beautiful old train, isn’t it?” said Rosstowski.

"Yeah, sure is," said Hartcliffe. "Sorry, but we don't have much time."

"The passengers are still getting off," said Nova as she turned around and took Derek by the hand. "Let him look for a bit. We'll never see an old train like this again, that's for sure."

A moment later, the conductor yelled, "'BOARD!!!"

"Looks like that's our cue, Nova," smiled Derek.

"I wonder what this ride will be like?" she mused.


It turned out the ride was very pleasant.

The parlor car had comfortable chairs that were fixed but which could rotate around; and they also had small drink and food tables. A stewardess took their orders, and soon, all of them had cocktails and sandwiches for the almost two-hour train ride down to Washington.

Our friends were looked at slightly askance by an older, more conservative group that was traveling down to Washington with an undersecretary of the Veterans’ Administration, but they were mostly left to themselves, because the more conservatively-dressed group guessed that Wildstar and his group of “beatniks” as they were overheard to refer to them as were in the music business or something like that.

Rosstowski would remember the ride for the rest of his life, and he would always remember Nova’s smile as she asked the conductor a few questions about the train; it seemed that Mrs. Wildstar was a little bit of a railfan herself.

But, before long, the ride was over, and they reached Washington Union Station and disembarked and went to some cars set up in advance by Mitzi’s agency, going on to an uncertain future…


 II. PENTAGON

The Pentagon

Lower Sixth Level

Washington, D.C.

Friday, June 23, 1967

7:50 PM, Local Time

A few hours later, but quite a bit ahead in the time stream, everyone arrived at an alcove in a Pentagon hallway far underground, well beneath even the War Room itself. They had made it through several checkpoints on Mitzi's OK with her US Government ID card. However, she warned them they might have a hard time at the final checkpoint, here, at the entrance to the U.N.I.T liaison briefing room.

Melvin strode up to the double doors first, looking at a smaller alcove near the doors. "Yeah, I know my chameleon circuit's workin' back on my bloody TARDIS," he said. "As usual, his ain't!" he said as he paused beside something that looked to Shavirov like an ordinary blue police kiosk made available for the public by the London Metropolitan Police Department. "And I'd like to know what the hell he's doin' here," barked Melvin as he let Mitzi and Nova go forward to examine the blue police box.

"What does the plaque on the left door say?" asked Nova.

Mitzi looked at the plaque and said, "It's a small door, really. It reads: POLICE TELEPHONE: FREE FOR USE BY PUBLIC. ADVICE & ASSISTANCE AVAILABLE IMMEDIATELY OFFICERS & CARS RESPOND TO URGENT CALLS-PULL TO OPEN."

Nova put her hand against it. "It's humming! Just like Melvin's!"

She jumped back when the door on the right side opened. "They all do that," said as a man in a dark brown tweed jacket, tweed slacks, dark brown fedora, and boots with an incredibly long multi-colored scarf strode out.

"Oh! You're a Time Lord...like him?" asked Nova.

"Yes and no. I'm the Doctor," said the apparently middle-aged man with a big winning smile.

"Doctor? Doctor Who?" asked Nova.

"My name's unimportant at the moment," said the Doctor. "Would you like a jelly baby?"

"I don't know if I should," began Nova.

"K-9, you stay in there, old chap," said the Doctor to something inside the door as he pulled it shut and locked his TARDIS. "You can trust it. We've met before, you and I, and you and Captain Wildstar."

"I don't believe we've met before," began Derek.

"You have...or you will," said the Doctor. "For me it was in the past, about one regeneration ago. For you, it'll be about fifteen years in your future, you'll have flag rank then, and I can't say much more about it. Don't give me that look, Melvin's much worse than I am and you've trusted him, Cosmos knows why. I'm sane. I think. This way, please," said the Doctor as he stuck his hands in his pockets and began to whistle, walking down the corridor as if he had become oblivious to everyone else.

"He's strange," whispered Nova.

"I think he's sort of cute," said Mitzi with a smile. "Bozhe moi, I'm beginning to get tired of just going about by car and by train and by plane."

"Wonder if 'e knows any rock stars," said Hartcliffe.

"You shut up," said Rosstowski. "I think this is more serious than that."


The first one to approach what appeared to be a very secure set of double doors (guarded by two U.S. Air Force lieutenants) was the Doctor.

"Sir, this is a restricted area," said the young man to the right of the door. "I'm afraid you'll have to show me some identification."

"I'm Doctor John Smith, Scientific Advisor to U.N.I.T.," said the Doctor brightly. "Some friends of mine are in there, and we don't have a lot of time. Would you fancy a jelly baby?"

"Sir, we've heard of Doctor Smith, but we need to know you're him. The last I saw him, he looked much shorter and entirely different. Could we see some ID, please?"

"Would my TARDIS key do?" asked the Doctor as he dangled a strange-looking pendant before them.

"There's more of them, Jack. Civilians. I think these are protestors of some kind, but how the hell did they get this far?"

"Beats me," said the first officer. "Now, Doctor Whomever-you-are, I'm going to need some ID...and the rest of you... STOP WHERE YOU ARE!" he snapped. "You're in a security zone in a military installation. You'd better have a damn good reason for being here!"

"Is having Earth's future in the balance enough reason for you?" snapped the Doctor in a very imperious tone of voice. "Maybe if you're told bluntly that you may not exist in about sixteen hours from now you'd change your mind?"

Artwork: The Doctor-based upon art taken from Yamato Perfect Manual #1 and computer colored and altered by

Frederick P. Kopetz

"Sir, stop where you are or I may be forced to..."

“Oh, you’re just like Harry Sullivan!” barked the Doctor. “An imbecile!”

"Would you quit this row, please?" said a mustachioed officer in a British Army Brigadier General's uniform as he opened the door from the inside and came out.

"Brigadier, maybe you can talk some sense into this walking cucumber. I'm having a bit of a hard time, myself," said the Doctor.

"Lieutenant, if you'll pardon me," said Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart. "This man, and his entire party, are all authorised to be here...believe it or not."

"He claims he's the Doctor, sir," said the Lieutenant. "He can't be, unless there's more than one of him. The last time I saw your strange Scientific Advisor, he was a little man with a Beatle haircut, dressed up like a clown, and carrying a recorder that he played all the time."

"You mean this?" asked the Doctor as he pulled out a recorder and began to make some strange noises. "I'm afraid that I don't play as well as I once did; you see, that was two regenerations ago."

"Regenerations?" asked the guard, quite puzzled.

"Special secret technique," lied the Brigadier. "He changes his outer form every now and then. I know him in this form...he worked with me during the New York Affair three months ago."

The lieutenant finally nodded. "I know of the New York affair," whispered Mitzi, "but...what was it?"

"Cybermen in the New York Underground beneath City Hall station," said the Doctor. "That's during the same time that they were planning yet another invasion through the London Underground. Broke a law of time to show up; the Brigadier was rather shocked at my appearance until I showed him my TARDIS and got my second incarnation on the phone to talk with him, after I finished surprising him, that is. Come to think of it, I'm breaking a law of Time by being here now! My second self is still back at U.N.I.T. HQ in Britain, right?"

"No, he's off again on some journey," said the Brigadier. "Something to do with the Sensorites."

"Oh, yes, nasty business, that. Well, can we go through now, Lieutenant?" demanded the Doctor.

"You're cleared, but not your companions, sir," said the Lieutenant.

"Well, some of them are with me, sir," said Shavirov as she came forward. "And some of them are with him."

"MELVIN?" said the Doctor. "Didn't the Time Lords lock you up for disorderly conduct?"

"We've been talking for the past few days, Doctor. You said you were the Lord President or something like that."

"Oh, yes, I'm playing truant," said the Doctor. "I guess I'll pardon you, by my authority. Anyway, this man and woman are the ones I spoke of, Brigadier, Derek and Nova Wildstar. They're military, too. Working undercover so they're out of uniform."

"Which military?" asked the Brigadier.

"Earth Defence Forces, 23rd Century, beta-gamma time stream," said the Doctor. "Or, I'm sorry, I mean beta-delta. In beta-gamma, your ship was called the Yamato, and you're both quite dead there, thank you. Blew yourselves up with the ship, quite a sacrifice. Believe I played gin rummy or hearts with Avatar once in that time stream. No one ever found out about it, of course. Oh, yes, and there was Timeline beta-sigma, wherein you two ended up on the planet Transsexual in the Galaxy of Transylvania. You don't want to know about that one, trust me. Quite a party the night before at that castle, though."

"Please, Doctor," said the Brigadier. "We're in a rush."

"Exactly," said Captain Wildstar, who was still a bit stunned over the Doctor's latest revelations. He was surprised to be dead in one alternate timeline, and as for the other...well, he didn't want to know what the Planet Transsexual even was. "Lieutenant, this man here is Ensign Paul Rosstowski, and this man is Lieutenant Bryan Hartcliffe. They're under my command, and are also working undercover. Let them in if you please."

The military guard nodded. I got my clearance for this? he thought. Guess they have no airmen or tech sergeants with a clearance high enough to guard this secret room. Of course, he was right.

"These two are my prisoners, Brigadier. Long story," said Mitzi as she walked Doctors Gisewski and Lambert through. "Now, let's get some chairs for everyone, and..."

One of the previously nasty guards nodded and saluted at a signal from his superior, a U.S.A.F. General sitting at a long walnut table in the briefing room. Leaving his comrade alone to guard the room, he went off to get some chairs.

Soon, he got the chairs, and the big walnut doors were closed and locked.


"This file you and Shavirov took from this Doctor Gisewski proves that a coal region local was killed by an alien being," said one U.S. officer, a Navy Admiral. "But for what end?"

"I believe I can explain why," said Captain Wildstar.

"Ah, our other Naval officer, in hippie mufti, too." said the Admiral mockingly while Derek gritted his teeth. "Derek, keep calm," whispered Nova. "We're in their headquarters, remember?"

"So, you're from a future time?" rumbled one Air Force general at Captain Wildstar.

"That's correct," said Wildstar.

"With all respect," said a female U.S.A.F. general who wore a U.N.I.T. patch, "how we do know you're telling the truth, young man?"

The Doctor let out a disgusted sigh, put aside his yo-yo, and said, "I detected the arrival of their ship in the time stream soon after I was forced down here. I have a picture of their vessel taken from the scanner of my TARDIS, should you desire proof."

The Doctor began pulling things out of his pockets. Nova was amused as he began pulling out what appeared to be junk as he muttered, "An Alpha Centaurian table tennis bat, my old recorder, oh...that's where that Silly String ended up. There's that model of a Klingon battlecruiser, my torch," he said as he pulled out a rusty flashlight, "an autographed picture of Tom Baker, never knew he was talking to the real article when I asked for this, poor chap...and, oh yes, that picture." The Doctor then threw a picture of the Argo onto the walnut table. "Quite a ship, that," he said as the officer looked at the design in amazement. "Constructed in the year 2199, partly from scrap metal. She was built beneath and using some recycled metal from the wreck of the Imperial Japanese Navy flagship Yamato, equipped with an alien drive even I don't fully understand, and she was forced here from the year 2202 through a space-time warp created by accident by a very nasty chap from the Blackeye Galaxy who calls himself the Dark Lord whom I do understand, unfortunately. Fought him to a draw once, so I have a death sentence on my head throughout the Technomugar Empire that he leads. They have to be assisted back to their time, but, unfortunately, one of the Dark Lord's generals pursued them here."

A hubbub broke out in the room. "What is this alien general like?" asked the female general.

"General Ryrie, let them explain it," said the older, normal Air Force general who sat near the Brigadier. "Captain Wildstar, I believe you said your name was?"

"This alien is a cyborg wandering around in disguise on your Earth. He's named Gralnacz, and he also has a one-point two kilometer wide battle fortress hanging about in orbit beyond your moon," said Derek. "He has to be stopped in two ways. His fortress has to be stopped, but we can do that. However, this other Time Lord, Seadragon, says he's plotting an assassination in your time that will affect history."

"All right, old fellow," said Ryrie. "You'll tell me and Lethbridge-Stewart what you're up to, please?"

"I've discovered that Gralnacz is plotting to change history within the next sixteen hours," said Seadragon. "He hopes to incite a world-wide youth revolution by killing "He hopes to incite a world-wide youth revolution by

"Not the Celestial Inter..." said the Doctor.

"No, the U.S. Central Intelligence Agency," said Seadragon. "His hope is to then incite the world's disaffected youth into a mass revolution that would lead to world-wide martial law as a consequence, complete with concentration camps for the young. Many of the best minds of this time would be wiped out, and the government would become conservative and stop all space-based research to keep order on Earth. When the next major alien invasion begins in 2052, Earth will rapidly fall to this enemy, known as Gamilon, long before even the Daleks get their hands on Earth for a time. In the Gamilon-Dalek war that would result, Earth would be utterly destroyed in a very short time by the depredations of both sides fighting over their captured prize."

Derek sat in shock at that. The Gamilons would take over Earth and allow it to be destroyed? he thought. "Pardon me, who are these 'Daleks'? We've never heard of them before."

"They're evil cyborg warriors who make your Gamilons look like Boy Scouts by comparison," whispered the Doctor. "Nasty bunch; they almost got me quite a few times in the past. Luckily, I was able to put a monkey wrench in their development not long ago when I trapped a nasty fellow named Davros."

"That sounds ridiculous," said Ryrie.

"Well, we've fought other plots that would appear to be as ridiculous," said the Brigadier. "Yet, they were quite credible threats. Would you dismiss a threat to Earth because it doesn't sound right?"

"Score a point for the Brigadier," chuckled the Doctor. "I think you're finally gaining a modicum of intellect, old chap."

"So, how would you get to London in a short time? It's a twelve-hour flight, and there's checkpoints you'd have to get through at EMI Studios and the like..." asked Ryrie.

"The Beatles are opening up their studios to the Press tomorrow morning," explained the Doctor. "I've already obtained valid passes for all of us through a valid internal channel."

"Who?" said the Brigadier.

"I'd rather not say," said the Doctor with a smile as he thought of his friendship with John Lennon. "Suffice it to say when I spoke to him, he said, 'This is wild, man, I've got to convince the other three of us that you're quite real. And that, is how we're getting to London, my friends. If we have your authorisation, Brigadier..."

The Brigadier and Ryrie spoke for a minute. "You've got it," said Ryrie a few moments later in shock. "You'll have backup from both the British and American branches of U.N.I.T., of course, and I'll release Miss Shavirov to come with you."

"Thank you," said the Doctor. "Brigadier, don't make the back-up too obvious. We don't need to alert the real reporters, right?"

"Right," said the Brigadier in a disgusted tone of voice. "We'll do this quietly, then."

"Good. Now if you'll excuse us," said the Doctor. "Everyone, follow me, please. Off to my TARDIS."

"Bryan, I think you're about to find out," said Nova with a sly smile.


 III. ABBEY ROAD

EMI-Abbey Road Studios

London, England

Friday, June 23, 1967 --- 11:30 PM, Local Time


"Nothin' you can say that can't be said…its eaasy," sang John Lennon into a microphone in Abbey Road Studios as the sounds of an orchestra and the accompaniment of the other Beatles resounded around the studio behind him. "All you need is Love!" repeated Lennon several times over the swelling orchestra before he ended the phrase with the inverted verse "love is all you need". John was backed up by the harmonies of Paul and George as the orchestra began to head into a twisted version of "Greensleeves", followed by "In the Mood," as the song ended.

"All right, that's a rehearsal take," said George Martin, the Beatles' producer, over the studio intercom as the orchestra began to talk to each other.

"Like to call it a night?" asked Paul McCartney as he put down his bass.

"You can if y'like," said John. "As for me, I'm gonna stay here and wait for Doctor Who to show up."

"You mean you invited Pat Troughton to come out clubbing with us, John?" asked McCartney. "Isn't he doin' some goofy new episode with the Cybermen, tonight?"

"No, I mean the real Doctor's fourth incarnation," said John in a serious voice. "You don't remember, we met him the other night at the Scotch club?"

 

"John, that was some out-of-work actor who wants to play the Doctor after Troughton retires in a year or two," said McCartney. "I think you've been overindulging a little, luv. C'mon home before Cynthia kills you."

"I never do anything before we record, you know that, Macca," insisted Lennon. "I really met Doctor Who a few nights back. The government's hidin' his existence from us, along with his enemies. The TARDIS actually exists."

"My son Zak and I met some Daleks in the yard the other night," said Ringo facetiously. "Luckily, the Doctor showed up and used his recorder on them. C'mon, John. You've been carrying this joke along quite far enough, now. That Dalek on your mantel at Kenwood is a Louis Marx toy; there are no Daleks around outside the BBC studios."

"Sod off, Richie! You know they're real."

"Well?" asked George Harrison as he put his guitar away.

"You talk to 'im, George," said Ringo. "I can never get through to him in this mood," said the Beatles' drummer with a typical hangdog look. "Maybe you can bring him down to Earth with some of that Indian meditation stuff of yours."

"John, it's all in the mind, y'know," began George.

"Come off it. How about going to my apartment for a time, all five of us? We've a lot to discuss," said Brian Epstein as he came up behind them.

"If this is about a bloody tour, count me out," said George. “I told you scruffy lot, I’m never tourin’ again!”

"No, it's about the broadcast," said Epstein as he convinced all four of the Beatles to leave behind the tail end of the departing orchestra.

A few minutes later, George Martin left, followed by Geoff Emerick and Richard Lush, his engineers. The cavernous studio was now empty, save for an EMI night watchman left behind to guard the studio equipment, amps, and Ringo Starr's drum kit.

"No one will be here until morning," said the night watchman. "I...might as 'ell have a little nip of gin, and get some sleep in me bag..."

The night watchman had his nip, and soon dozed off in his sleeping bag. His snores soon filled the room, but they were blotted out by a strange groaning sound as a shape began to fade into existence near Ringo's drums.

A moment later, the night watchman awoke, only to notice a Metropolitan Police Box standing near the drums.

"Must be some bloody BBC prop they forgot about, what a daft pop group they are," he muttered as he went back to sleep.


Inside the TARDIS, the Doctor looked at the scene quite carefully on his scanner. "Hmmm...sensors are telling me that there's no one about, just him, and he's quite asleep. We've got you, Melvin, Shavirov, both Wildstars, Mister Rosstowski. I say...where's Mister Hartcliffe?"

Hartcliffe came in a moment later. "Damn, this place is much bigger on the inside than it is outside. You know what a bloody hike it is to the loo in here?"

"I configured it that way intentionally so that this TARDIS smells nothing like Melvin's," said the Doctor with a toothy grin.

"Arrr...mine's a newer model than this antique," sneered Melvin.

"Yes, but his is much cleaner," said Nova. "No rats in here, either."

"There might be, down in the lowest hold levels," said the Doctor. "However, K-9 does a good job keeping them down there."

"Told ya," crowed Melvin. "Every ship has rats in it."

"Stop blathering about rats and give me a hand, would you, Seadragon? " asked the Doctor. "Fix the ship to these coordinates while we take a look about outside."

Melvin nodded.

The TARDIS door opened, and the Doctor stepped out, shining his torch about. "Help me look for hidden boobytraps, would you?" he whispered.

Shavirov and Lieutenant Wildstar nodded, both young women splitting up to look for hidden devices. Knowing she was taking a risk, Nova decided to tap on each of Ringo's drums a few times.

As Derek walked around, his radio set bleeped. "Captain Wildstar here."

"Wildstar?" asked Venture's voice. "Where are you now?"

"Abbey Road Studio number two, London, Anglia," said Derek helpfully. "It's 1:15 AM, local time, now."

"Captain, you have nine hours and fifteen minutes left before we have to abandon you," said Venture. "Have you gotten close to concluding your mission, yet?

"We're in the right place and time, thanks to the Doctor," said Derek.

"Doctor? Doctor who?" said Venture.

"Not that again," muttered the Doctor. "What an old joke."

"Long story. He's an alien who is helping us fight Gralnacz. We should be done here by 0800 local time. That'll give us plenty of time to get ready to go. We should be giving Gralnacz quite a bad black eye by then, Mark. How's that work on reprogramming our instruments going?"

"Not good," said Venture. "Sandor and IQ-9 are now telling us there's just a 90% chance this'll work right."

"I can make that 100%," said a strange, deep, cheerful British voice as Venture's eyebrows went up.

"Who's that?" asked Homer.

"Just myself, the Doctor," grinned the curly-haired Time Lord. "You need have no worries about getting back. I shall handle that after we take care of Gralnacz."

"Okay," said Venture. "Wildstar, you're sure you've got everything A-OK down there?"

"I'm sure about that. Thanks for asking, though, Venture. You'll see us in a few hours. Wildstar out."

Venture sat in silence as the speaker went dead. "Not again. He's been doing that to me too much in the past day. Wonder if he's in his right mind."

"I wonder if you're in your right mind, Venture," sniffed Homer. "Shouldn't we have left hours ago?"

"While there's life, there's hope," insisted Venture. "Orion! You take command for the next hour. I have to take a break and think about this."

"Aye, sir," said Orion.


Venture walked off to the Argo's aft observation deck. Leaning against the wooden rail, he stood deep in thought.

So this is it, he mused. In nine hours, I may have to leave my best friend behind on Earth in the past forever. Funny, how he didn't want to change time...how he claimed this mission he accepted from these strange aliens would preserve the flow of time and help us fight Gralnacz.

Mark sighed and mused, out loud, "But that space fortress is still out there. It seems that Derek did nothing at all, even with this impending sacrifice of his life, and Nova's...and Rosstowski's. And what would I have to do if he comes back and nothing happens? Relieve him of command for insanity? What did he really run into down there in the past?"

Behind Mark, the doors whizzed open. "It's not quite as bad as that, actually. The Captain must have an explanation for this."

"Nova?" mused Mark, who felt embarrassed when he saw he was looking at Holly Parsons. "Sorry, Holly. I thought you were Nova for a minute. She always used to..."

"Come up here and try to talk sense into you and the Captain? She told me all about it, you know," smiled Parsons.

"How? Why?"

"Sir, we've been friends for years, Nova and I, that is. She also told me that you were carrying a torch for her for ages. Is that true?"

"That died when I met Trelaina," huffed Venture. "Probably before."

"By the tone of your voice, I can guess something different. Let's say it was killed the moment the Captain put a gold ring on her finger on December 26th last year?"

"Holly, you're lying."

"Nova told me how you were gazing at her when she came up and stood beside Derek at the altar of that church in Boulder. Was that exactly proper behavior for a best man?"

"She was my second closest friend on this ship, and she made a damn beautiful bride," insisted Venture.

"Let me guess, you're mourning her as well as Wildstar, right?"

"Right...I. No. No...I'm not! They're still alive."

"If they're still alive, why are you mourning, then?"

"Because I might have to put my Captain and best friend in the brig when he shows up. He's acting crazy. Derek knows what kind of fix we're in, so why doesn't he get his butt back up here?"

"You said he had something to do. And, besides, wouldn't Doctor Sane have to pass on whether or not Derek went screwloose down there in the Swinging 60's?"

"He must've gone crazy...hell, he's got Nova believing this weird delusion, too. I thought the lady had a better head on her shoulders than that. Normally, she's one of the most skeptical of the lot of us...has to check facts first."

"Maybe it's not a delusion, then, Mark."

"Holly, what do you mean by that?"

"Think about it. After all, Nova helped to train me quite a while back. Think about it, Mark," said Holly as she gave him a shy pat on the hand. "Oh, if I were you, I'd get some sleep. We're going to need it in the morning when the Captain comes back."

"You're sure he'll come back?"

Holly just nodded. "Good night, Mark," she said softly. "And one more piece of advice?"

"Yes?"

"Put down those two torches you have...for Trelaina and Nova. They're keeping you in the past...and keeping you from seeing what could happen in the future. Good night, Mark."

At that, Parsons left.

Now what does she mean by that? Venture thought with a shake of his head.


Nova woke up from a bad dream in her sleeping bag, still fully dressed save for her flip-flop sandals (after all, she was sleeping in mixed company). "Derek?" she whispered to the sleeping bag beside her. "Derek?"

"What?" he said with a start. "Oh, just you, Nova. Whazzup?"

"Had an awful dream," she murmured, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"What about?"

"My Aunt Yvona...the way she was when she was younger. Strange dream. In this dream, she was on this interstellar fortress, and she was in a strange uniform, and she was torturing me on some kind of bed."

"Nova, we all have bad dreams. Sorry I'm so gruff, I mean...the Doctor said we have to be up by 0700. It's 0400 local time now. He said that he's arranged for us to talk with Lennon first...that he'll show up first. Favored interview and all that?"

"I know, but this dream was terrible. It felt like it was really happening! Could I be seeing the future?"

"Perhaps you might be," yawned the Doctor from his sleeping bag. "Sorry...I was just listening. I've a lot of planning to do, and I have to take an ancillary role in the TARDIS."

"Why?" asked Derek and Nova together.

"Two reasons. I'd be spotted, remember, I'm wanted by these people, and, secondly, I got a communication in my mind from Gallifrey while I slept. I'm supposed to limit my involvement."

"Galli-where?" asked Nova.

"Gallifrey. My home planet, and Melvin's too, after a fashion. It's the citadel of all of the Time Lords, located 29,000 light-years away in the Constellation of Kasterbouros, you know, the one your scientists just renamed. When they tell me to begin butting out, I don't like it, but they have ways of making me listen. You see, I'm a renegade from that planet. A renegade on something of a short leash."

"Why?" asked Nova. "I thought you said you were the President, or something."

"I am...but the circumstances are a bit odd. I should be back there running the Government, but instead, I'm out here wandering time and space, like I did long ago when I fled with my grand-daughter Susan. They got me before and they could get me again. The Time Lords have been sticking their noses into my life a lot lately. That's why I'm Lord President right now. It's a stratagem. A stratagem that kept me from being disintegrated back on Gallifrey."

"I thought you said you were helping us," said Derek.

"I will be...I just can't be so obvious about it," said the Doctor as he pulled his boots on and got up. "Which reminds me...the TARDIS is calling. Have to get ready for takeoff and all that, and for fixing your ship. Remember, I'm still your getaway car, so to speak."

"Doctor, thank you," said Derek. "What about Melvin?"

"He's another page, in another volume about the history of the Time Lords. Not one of our better ones, I'm afraid. An old friend of mine, or should I say...former friend, fathered him in a megalomaniac moment of his on an alien world long ago. The things my former classmates get involved in...but you can trust Seadragon. To an extent."

"What do you mean by that?" asked Derek.

"If you're ever around Melvin and a nasty chap with a black beard and black outfit shows up, let Melvin have his way with him, all right? Be careful."

At that, the Doctor stepped inside his TARDIS, not explaining any further.

"What did he mean by that?" asked Derek.

Nova simply shrugged.


At 0700, Derek Wildstar woke up again, only to notice the Doctor up and about, sharing tea with a figure in a psychedelic fur-trimmed coat that Derek had to stare at for a moment. He looked a bit like Bryan Hartcliffe, sans the mustache, but Derek noticed that this man seemed to actually need his glasses, and that his Liverpool accent was somewhat sharper and more sarcastic than Hartcliffe's. It sounded almost Irish.

"So did you have any trouble getting the press passes for all of us that I have?" asked the Doctor.

"Right, I got 'em quite easily. Said they were for me friends. Doctor, thanks for savin' my life that time…back in Hamburg the last time we were there, right after we recorded "Love Me Do."

"Don't mention it, John. I knew how important you would be to the time-stream, you and the others. Do they believe in me yet?"

"Hell no. When I mentioned you last night, Paul almost put me away as a booby. By the way, how should I wake our friends up? Should I use the boot?" he laughed evilly.

"No, how about singing to them?" suggested the Doctor.

"Me voice is all bollixed up this hour of the mornin'…bloody press conference. Could never stand 'em since they made me apologize for that Jesus thing. I'll yell at 'em, instead. Hey, you!" he said, walking up to Derek Wildstar. "Do I have to play bloody reveille or what, mate? Or would God Save the Queen wake yer lot up?"

"I'm awake…you're as bad as Hartcliffe," muttered Derek.

"Who?" demanded John.

"A friend of his…or a shipmate. These blokes are from the future, too," said the Doctor.

"Oh. I see. Good mornin, Buck Rodgers. Remember the Beatles?" said Lennon. "I'm one of them, John Winston Lennon, the band's so-called leader."

"I'm Derek Wildstar, Captain of the Earth Federation space battleship Argo. We're supposed to be here to protect you and the other three from some alien assassin."

"I know that, that's why I bloody tried to stop this stinkin' press conference, man," said Lennon. "Y'see, he's taken me into his confidence, the Doctor. Long story, that. Hey, who's the cute blond bird next to you?" said Lennon with a wink. "Hey, luv, are you available?" teased Lennon as he knelt down beside Nova.

"If you're John Lennon, you sure are a boor," said Nova. "I'm Nova Wildstar, Captain Wildstar's spouse and a Lieutenant in my own right. Don't mess with me…I know aikido!"

"Regular or Venusian?" asked the Doctor.

"How can you learn Aikido on a planet where everything is as hot as molten lead?" asked Nova. “Derek, dear, John’s not making any bloody sense!”

"Venus isn't necessarily as bad where I come from," said the Doctor. "Like to hear a Venusian lullaby? No, it'd put you to sleep. We need you awake and alert. When you buckle on those sandals of yours, put on this badge. This is your cover as a member of the Fourth Estate."

 Nova did so. When Rosstowski woke up, he was too awed by the sight of Lennon to say more than "Good morning, sir."

"Oh, you still have Beatles fans in the 23rd Century?" asked Lennon.

"Some. Your music's still popular."

"Great, hold on a minute," said John. With his badge he handed Rosstowski a slip of paper with his signature on it. "Here's me autograph."

"Thanks," said Rosstowski.

John nodded and then went to Hartcliffe. "Oh, another hippie?" he said.

"I wear these glasses in emulation of you, John."

"And a Liverpudlian, too, by the sound of’ yer Scouse, mate!  Nice to know Liverpool still survived to your time. Is Penny Lane still around?"

"Sort of. When they bombed the city, they sorta rebuilt it up the Mersey a little. But it's still at the mouth."

"Interesting," said Lennon.

Hartcliffe saw a guitar around. "Hey, if you don't mind, let me demonstrate me guitar skills for you. I'm in a band, too."

"All right son," smiled Lennon. "Let's hear how good you are. Maybe I'll help ya get a recordin' contract."

Hartcliffe grabbed the nearest guitar (Lennon's) and began to bang out chords that sounded a bit off-tune. It turned out he was trying to play "I Should Have Known Better". When he began singing, it sounded halfway good, and halfway like a croaking frog.

After hearing his song tortured for about another minute, Lennon put up his hand. "Good, but not nearly good enough to be one of us, and not good enough for a contract, either. Matter of fact, son, you stink. You need more practice, all right?"

A crestfallen Hartcliffe handed the guitar back to John and Lennon said, "this is how you should play it."

Lennon then gave a halfway good rendition of his own song. "Got it?"

"Yeah, I do," said Hartcliffe.

"Don't worry too much…you're here to guard us, not play a concert. Now for you, Mitzi?"

"You know my name?" asked Shavirov.

"Yeah, look up the number,” said John. “Course. The Doctor told me."


Here ends part Six-"A" of Fixing a Hole
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