Hell Breaking Loose: A Doctor Who/40k fic

[Srelex]

Addressed to British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, August 1984

Ma'am,

I wish to report that all contact has been lost with Drake I since 6.56 AM this morning. In case Sir Hendrickson has not informed you, we believe that a malfunction occurred in the ship's revolutionary new Baker Drive, which our scientists estimated would accelerate to speeds as yet unheard of. With the authorization of the UNIT council in Geneva, I had decided to inform you that contrary to official reports, Sir Hendrickson was not responsible for the primary instigation of the Baker Drive. The technology was largely designed by UNIT specialists based on observations of one our top scientific advisors and his own notes. I do not believe that he is aware of this.

The Baker Drive, I must also inform you, was partially based of technology of extraterrestrial nature. As Prime Minister, you will naturally aware of the several major alien incursions Britain has suffered thus far, and therefore you will understand why UNIT has appropriated the majority of salvage from said occasions. Contrary again to the press, the Baker drive relied not on nuclear-fusion based mechanisms, but on dimensional undulation--I am afraid I lack the expertise to properly explain this.

Therefore, I have been told that the Baker Drive most likely suffered a malfunction and in that case we should prepare for dimensional spillout. I recommend alerting Torchwood, and we are currently in correspondence with the Soviet Union's Cherenkov Institute and Professor Roddenberry in the United States to discuss the matter. Thus far, we have no cause for concern.

Sincerely,

Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart,

United Nations Intelligence Taskforce

**

New York Times, August 1984

REVOLUTIONARY BRITISH SPACECRAFT MISSING

It was confirmed by NASA and the British Space Institute that Great Britain's first major development in aeronautics and space travel technology, Drake I, went missing earlier today while in high orbit. Contact has not yet been made with the craft.

Drake I was launched from the BSI's main facility in Scotland two days ago, using a modified Churchill intercontinental ballistic missile, and was touted by Sir Alexander Hendrickson, famed British technical scientist, as the most advanced spacecraft to date. The craft utilized a 'Baker Drive', the centerpiece of its design, which supposedly when activated would propel it to record new speeds. The objective of Drake I's mission was to encircle the Earth while powering up the drive before using it to propel itself to lunar orbit. BSI scientists claim that all tests possible were done prior to the launch to guarantee safety.

The Soviet Union and the United States have both proposed a joint rescue mission to try and locate the stricken spacecraft and determine the circumstances of its disappearance. Thus far, there has been no trace discovered, although several independent observatories claim to have spotted anomalies in orbit near Drake I's last known position. NASA and the Soviet space agency have thus far released no comment or confirmation.

**

"This is Captain James Rourke, contacting Manchester...is anyone there? This is Captain James Rourke...contacting Houston...is anyone there? Tokyo? Moscow?"

The small Drake I capsule, outfitted with a large, cylindrical machine and shining solar panels, drifted quietly through empty void, leaving behind a glowing gash seemingly suspended where it was. Power in the small craft was barely active, as the crew fumbled with emergency oxygen masks. Energy readings of the anomaly that activating the Baker Drive had created demonstrated that it was off the scale--strong enough to be spotted by any civilization with decent sensor technology, they reasoned. They just didn't understand it--none of the tests had indicated that anything of this sort would occur.

"I repeat..." Hanging in the cockpit in zero-gravity, taking periodic gulps from an oxygen mask, Captain Rourke continued to speak into a radio, even as his throat got dryer with the decreasing temperature of the capsule, his eyes struggling to remain open. He recalled activating the drive; he had experienced a brief sensation of the ship travelling through some kind of...portal? A glowing white one? And then, for a second, his mind had been bombarded with stimuli and images that he couldn't begin to recall, let alone imagine.

"Captain..." Owen, his second in command, pointed through the window.

There appeared to be...a spacecraft approaching them. Very large, very long, and extremely ornate...like some sort of cathedral in space. Rourke managed a smile. Intelligent life. Perhaps there was some hope after all.

[Garlak]

Oh dear. This first contact is going to be an... unpleasant surprise for this optimistic fellow...


Good intro so far. Are we going to be seeing more of what happens from both sides of the, er, universe? That is, what happens back on DW Earth, and the.. trials the experimental ship goes through?

[Flameblade]

I'm certainly reading this with interest.

[Srelex]

Sir William Hendrickson, renowned physicist and engineer, sipped down some Scotch as UNIT soldiers filed into the lobby of BSI's primary facility in the Scottish Highlands near Inverness, with Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart himself supposedly on the way. No doubt they had come to chastise him for Drake I, which the papers and television were screaming about. Of course, he wasn't going to mention that he had anticipated this happening--after all, if the other fools they had made him work with and Geneva had known that the activation of the drive proper would have caused this, chances were they would have retracted his funding faster than a proton travelling around a particle accelerator.

"Sir Hendrickson!" he looked up as the Brigadier and Lord Weylon, director of BSI, strode in, with the UNIT troops around them saluting as they strode briskly in, arrogant, pompous meddlers that they were. Nonetheless, out of simple British politeness, Hendrickson shook hands with both and began to guide them into the facility.

"So, Hendrickson," began Weylon, "that's millions of pounds and seven trained personnel down the gutter today. Please tell me why you claimed that nothing of this sort happened during the tests."

"It is possible that the Drive was affected by solar radiation or some other emission not present on Earth." said Hendrickson quickly, grabbing the first thing that entered his mind. He didn't expect these people, who wouldn't know an electron from a feather duster, to understand either way.

"I see. And naturally, none of this occurred to you before we launched the damn thing into orbit?"

"When you're on the threshold of such a major breakthrough, you tend to get excited." said Hendrickson quickly as he guided them into an elevator, which began to go down deep into the lower levels of the facility--where the real science took place, he knew, as opposed to what the public knew of the place.

"Naturally, Lord Weylon, you'll know of UNIT's most appreciable co-operation and support of my project here." said Hendrickson. "Unfortunately, owing to your insistence on spending more time fraternizing in London than actually overseeing our work here, some of what you might see here may surprise you."

"I'm the director of this damn place!" said Weylon in that nasal upper-class tone that Hendrickson despised so much. The fool had only been placed in charge here because of the amount of arse that he kissed in Westminster, he fumed to himself, so he had expected such self-righteous behavior. "I should know everything!"

"Gentlemen, please." said the Brigadier. Hendrickson took a glance at him. UNIT was often semi-competent at best thanks to people like him, although they proved useful as funders and backers. "Sir Hendrickson, if you please..."

"Delighted." he led them out of the elevator and into the pristine, shining laboratories that stretched underneath the launch facility, as men in white suits, their faces and heads obscured by protective masks, tinkered and studied various mechanical items Hendrickson knew that the two fools with him would barely comprehend. Although in fairness, he didn't completely understand a lot of them; such was the consequence of relying on technology that was not of this earth, to use the old cliché.

"It's in these labs that the primary development of the Drive took place." said Hendrickson. "Lord Weylon, you may want to brace yourself..."

"Why?" scoffed the fat idiot. "I mean...oh..."

He paused as they passed a partially dissected silver figure on a table, with handlebars sticking out of the head, opened up to reveal a fleshy face fused with various electronics and enhancements. Under his direction of this place, thought Hendrickson smugly, BSI hadn't limited itself to mere space exploration technology--no, he wasn't so small-minded as that. With UNIT more than willing to provide items from its storehouses, all sorts of possibilities had been opened up--all so that they could remain one step ahead of the Warsaw Pact, naturally. Some of his analysts here had predicted that the Soviet Union was due to collapse in a few years; he didn't want to imagine what would happen to his funding. With nobody to shake their rear ends at, NATO and UNIT would surely see such facilities at his as superfluous at best.

"You ain't seen nothin' yet, as the Americans like to say." smiled Hendrickson as he approached a metal door, placing his palm on a pad beside it. A few moments passed before it slid open, allowing them to step into a darker, more industrial chamber, with pipes and cylindrical constructs lining the walls, as engineers tinkered with devices with the help of robotic assistants technology curves had stipulated wouldn't even be around for several decades. As the door slid shut behind them, he took a look as Lord Weylon gasped; stepping out of the shadows came a humanoid figure, save that it was covered in scales, with a hideous, three-eyed face and a vaguely dinosaurian face.

"What...in...the name..." he gasped as the reptilian thing bowed.

"Some loot we discovered in Ireland." chuckled Hendrickson. "Don't worry, sir, he and the others of his kind here are harmless. We've nullified their psionic abilities and all we need to do to keep them in line is to threaten to turn up the oxygen levels..."

"Psionic abilities? What are they, aliens?"

"Prehistoric dinosaur people, to put it in terms you'd comprehend. Now, gentlemen, this is what you are here for..."

He approached a table covered with extremely intricate items of technology, notes, and blueprints--including pictures and diagrams of a blue police box, with seemed to confuse Lord Weylon. And beside those images were some photographs of a set of strange-looking people, including a white-haired old man, a slightly younger dark-haired fellow, a chap who looked like some sort of children's magician, and then finally a slightly-crazed looking one with a large scarf.

"Lord Weylon, as the Brigadier may or may not have told you, I am somewhat of a plagiarizer." said Hendrickson. "A few years ago, UNIT managed to obtain an item of technology belonging to one of its top scientific advisors--without his knowledge or permission. This item, which I have spent the last few years reverse-engineering, helped form the basis of the Baker Drive."

"Scientific advisor?" said Weylon, before looking at the photographs. "Is he one of these fellows?"

"He is them."

"What...?"

"Oh, sir, how little you understand." laughed Hendrickson. "The point being, he was always shy with sharing his own...genius. Never mind. Now..."

"Sir Hendrickson," began the Brigadier, "my advisors tell me that there is a definite 'spatial anomaly' in orbit radiating enough for any reasonably advanced civilization in half the galaxy to spot it. I need to know what we can do about it."

"Do about it?" Hendrickson smiled. "There's not much we can do about. In fact, it's something I was hoping would happen."

**

"Class 9 dimensional anomaly detected."

"Identify source."

"System designated 'Sol'.

"Readings indicate artificial nature."

"Technological level of local sentients?"

"2."

On the command deck of a sleek cruiser drifting in the shadow of the Horsehead nebula, Cyberleader 233-KK analyzed the readings being transmitted directly into his processor-enhanced brain. This did not correspond with the local technological level. An investigation needed to be carried out.

"Change course for the Sol system. Immediately."

[Siege]

Interesting setup... I have to point out though, if this Sir William Hendrickson chap is indeed a knight, the proper way for Lord Weylon to address him would be as "Sir William" or "Sir William Hendrickson", not "Sir Hendrickson".

[Ugolino]

Oh dear. So they stole a bit of the TARDIS, tore a hole in space and time, and got the attention of the Cybermen.

Even by mad scientist standards, that's pretty high on the "gone horribly wrong" scale.

[Highlord Laan]

So, lets say the might of the Imperium crosses the dimensional threshold in order to secure a past/other earth and goes head to head with the cybermen.

This may get messy.

[bilateralrope]

So, lets say the might of the Imperium crosses the dimensional threshold in order to secure a past/other earth and goes head to head with the cybermen.

This may get messy.

Hopefully it's just the Imperium that comes through.

[Highlord Laan]

So, lets say the might of the Imperium crosses the dimensional threshold in order to secure a past/other earth and goes head to head with the cybermen.

This may get messy.

Hopefully it's just the Imperium that comes through.

Where there's the Imperium, theres Chaos having a blast at everyone else's expense. Avatar of Slannesh + Las Vegas is going to suck.

[weemadando]

Even better will be what happens when the Doctor decides that TGEoM is someone that he just doesn't like. Or, alternately, decides that TGEoM is in fact someone who he could really get along with.

Either option is utterly terrifying.

[mr friendly guy]

I vote for the get along well with the GEoM. It would be more interesting this way.

[weemadando]

I vote for the get along well with the GEoM. It would be more interesting this way.

Especially as he has the option to pop back to GEoMs earlier days and hang out with him back when he wasn't doing his Maria Schiavo impersonation.

I was trying to find a rocking picture of the GEoM that I remember from back in the WD 170s or so (it was a great colour piece). White Armour, standing on a precipice or similar with windswept hair and generally looking bad arse. It was fucking rocking. Sadly it seems that it is lost to time.

That said. I did find this:

[Enigma]

What if it is the other way around? The Cybermen go through the anomaly and wind up above GEoM's Terra?

[Ugolino]

Those poor poor cybermen.

Estimated time of "invasion": 20 seconds tops.

[weemadando]

What if it is the other way around? The Cybermen go through the anomaly and wind up above GEoM's Terra?

The fact that the Moon has been turned into a giant floating space fortress, that no small percentage of Terra's surface is dedicated to anti-space weaponry and elaborate surface defences. The presence of massive fleets (Mars and Luna are the Imperiums two most prolific shipyards IIRC and are defended accordingly) would just make life more difficult.

As Ugolino said, around 20 seconds seems to be a fair estimate. Maybe a little longer if they try to make a run for it. Even less if they do something stupid like try and make a play for the Golden Throne.

[Night_stalker]

Nah, between Battlefleet Solar, the Inquisitorial ships, the Ad Mech ships, the Offico Assassinorum ships, the privately owned ships, and the numerous emplaced defenses, the Cybermen will be lucky if anything survies other than debris to rain down onto Holy Terra.

[Enigma]

Just a slight side track, what if it was a small Dalek fleet? Let say 20 of they're saucer ships?

[Srelex]

Just a slight side track, what if it was a small Dalek fleet? Let say 20 of they're saucer ships?

No offence, but could we keep this on track? This isn't another vs thread. Anyway, I'll have the next update on soon.

[Teleros]

Going to watch this one with interest I think. Has the potential for lots of drama and even more hilarity .

Where there's the Imperium, theres Chaos having a blast at everyone else's expense. Avatar of Slannesh + Las Vegas is going to suck.

Can you imagine how insufferable all the apocalyptic Bible-bashers will be when they're proved (sort of) right?

Even better will be what happens when the Doctor decides that TGEoM is someone that he just doesn't like. Or, alternately, decides that TGEoM is in fact someone who he could really get along with.

Either option is utterly terrifying.

I vote that he gets along with the GEoM. Both of them have a soft spot for humans after all, and they're both pretty damn smart too.
...
Can we have Space Marines deploying into battle via gothic Cathedral TARDISes? Please?

[Highlord Laan]

Oh god. Time traveling Space Marines?

"Hey Horus." BLAM.

[Srelex]

"Lord Commander, we have isolated the source of the transmissions...it is a very small craft that by all signs looks to be a primitive one..."

Standing aboard the bridge of the Retribution-class battleship Fist of Jupiter, escorted by a pack of Cobra-class vessels, Captain Junic Reisel observed the glowing gash hanging in space kilometers ahead of his vessel, radiating enough strange energies strongly enough for the sensors of his ship to nearly go into overlord and reportedly causing psykers across the sector to suffer brief but intense migraines. He had been dispatched here, as the closest presence of the Imperial Navy, to investigate this--no doubt some trickery of the Warp, and if that was the case, then his lance batteries and torpedo tubes were ready.

"Show me this craft." he snapped to the servitor addressing him, who took him to one of the nearby consoles. Tapping a few runes, the servitor brought up an image of a strange little piece of scrap metal that Reisel had never seen before--it bore large solar panels, and eschewed the ornate, grand design of ships of the Imperium for a functional grey metal appearance, not even resembling the curved grace of Eldar or Tau designs. It bore on its hull markings and insignias he, a man who considered himself one of the galaxy, had the faintest idea about--a red cross against an alternately angled white cross against a blue rectangle? This had come out of that gash in space? At least it did not look like a threat. Perhaps, he reasoned, it was some sort of hapless vessel from the Dark Age of Technology that the Warp had swallowed up, to be ejected back out now. If so, he wondered what the state of the crew was.

"Play me those transmissions." he declared. A few moments passed before a voice, distorted by static, played out of speakers. He couldn't understand anything--a human voice it was, but it was certainly not speaking Gothic.

"What manner of signals are these?" he demanded.

"Radio, sir. Very primitive."

"Then respond to them with this." he said, clearing his throat. A few moments passed before he spoke.

"I am Junic Reisel of the Imperial Navy, representing the God-Emperor's forces among the stars. Identify yourselves, lest we deem you an affront to the Imperium of Man!"

**

"Hey...hey, we're getting a reply!"

Rourke sat up in the command module, having just spent the last few minutes watching that strange Gothic ship draw closer and closer--just how big was that damn thing? He could recognize eagle motifs built into it...he was now having doubts that it was truly alien. Perhaps this was not a portal in space that they had created, but in time? Either way, he was too damn confused about it all to think straight, and the oxygen meter was ticking away slowly.

"Play it!" he snapped to Roderick, the most conscious of the crew members with him. Roderick nodded as he adjusted some dials on the radio.

"Ma telk Junic Reisel...dei-na pralen vur grasnes...unsckra nu tan!"

The message was distorted, with passages broken by static and what sounded like tuning signals, but at least the voice sounded human...but the language? Couldn't make head nor tail of it.

"Damn." he said. "Quick! What do we say?"

"Wait a second." said Roderick, as he got out a large keyboard. "Don't you remember UNIT's little present?"

"Huh?"

"That translation device that came with the emergency pack. It's just a prototype, I hear, but I guess now's a good as time as any to try it out..."

A translation device? How had UNIT come up with that? He was still recovering from unconsciousness, so he began to try and trace back to when in the briefings he had been told of this, as Roderick hooked up something to the radio set, and began to type, as white wireframe text came up on the black screen on the monitor next to the setup.

"Huh. Language is apparently connected to our own. This should make things easier." he muttered. A few moments passed as the machinery whirred and hummed--damn, UNIT could somehow make magical 'translation devices', but not faster computer technology. Perhaps, he supposed, in the future they could have machines capable of loading up banks of information instantly--or even monitors in color!

"Okay, here it is..."

"Me am Junic Reisel...military forces among the constellations...offend to the Dominion of Male!"

"It could do with some fine tuning, I guess." muttered Rourke. "Quick--a reply!"

He grabbed a microphone hooked up to the radio and began speaking into it on all frequencies.

"I am Rourke of the British Space Institute...representing Great Britain of the planet Earth...we come in peace! We mean you no harm! We require immediate assistance! Do you understand?"

He looked out as the vessel continued to draw closer, filling up the screen.

**

"Boss?"

"Wot?"

"Da weirdboyz jabberin' again."

"Den bash 'iz 'ead in and make 'im shaddup."

On the command deck of the Ork Kroozer Gonna Bash Yer 'Ead In, Ya Grot!, Ork Warboss Gutboot reclined in his steel 'Boss chair' as Gretchins kept things intact by constantly screwing in nuts and bolts and bolting in extra hull plates. Only a few hours ago, he and his flotilla had been cruising through the Warp, on the way to an Orky World to give the Boss there a good krumpin' because he had insulted the paint job on Gutboot's trukk, when suddenly they had inexplicably jumped out, and now they were manoeuvring to jump back in again. Now, Gutboot had been hearing about the Weirdboyz aboard, well, weirdin' out, and by now he didn't really care anymore.

"Boss!"

"Wot now?"

An Ork shipboy burst in, looking excited.

"We've seen somefing on da sensy fings! Like a really big Boy just took a choppa to space!"

"Wotz ya yammerin' about?"

"We'll show ya, boss! I fing there's also 'umiez to be krumped nearby!"

"Oh? Well, ya better be roit! Turn course!"

[Teleros]

This won't end well .

Fingers crossed that orky flotilla isn't too big though...

[weemadando]

On the plus side, Orkz have really yet to figure out how space combat works. Which is really, really good thing if you are anything other than an Ork.

[Night_stalker]

Ork ship vs Retribution Class battleship? My money is on the Retribution class

[Teleros]

Ork ship vs Retribution Class battleship? My money is on the Retribution class

It's ork kroozer plus flotilla vs Retribution plus a handful of Cobras. BFG escort squadrons rarely get above 5-6 ships, but no idea how large an ork flotilla is...