Chapter Text
Kate Lethbridge-Stewart leans back at her office desk chair, soft, classical music playing. Needing to calm down after another stressful day of meetings with government officials who refuse to take her and her warnings seriously. Why even invite me? Pointless. Absolutely pointless and frustrating. Hearing the chirp of her mobile phone, the sound she has set for her most trusted inner circle, Kate reaches into her blazer pocket, hanging from the back of her seat. Seeing a text from Osgood.
’You need to listen to the most recent episode of the podcast.’
Kate knows exactly what podcast Osgood is referring to.
Several years ago, U.N.I.T came into direct contact with the hosts of the Blue Box Files podcast. Since then, both Kate and Osgood have found the podcast and the discussion held within to be, usually, refreshing. However, recently, there has been more discussion about U.N.I.T and their movements appearing within the Files.
’If you don’t want to listen to the whole thing, FF to 16:24.’
Kate hears the second vibration, looking at the message, which only causes her to furrow her brow. She opens the application on her mobile, going to the podcast in question, the video version, letting it play naturally, but allowing her ears to perk up when she hears the name of someone who has been of interest to herself and U.N.I.T and realizing that it’s at the minute marker as indicated by Osgood.
”Now, time for the surprise we promised at the start of our show.” Cleo begins, a broad smile is filling her face, “our guest, to those who frequent our servers, will require no introduction.”
”You flatter me far too much.”
”And they’ve decided to take on the voice of our very own, and recently departed, Queen Elizabeth.” Abby continues with a soft laugh in her voice, “and you all can’t see this, but they’re using a cartoon avatar in the video conference that they’ve created themselves of-”
”They created the entire program, hosted it, created the user interface, and-” Shawna shakes her head, “I’m absolutely amazed. I want this in my day to day life.”
”Just a bit of programming. Nothing terribly difficult. I’ll make you one that works best for you. Just tell me what you want.”
”Will you be my new best friend?” Shawna continues softly, earning a laugh from her cohosts.
”Listeners, I haven’t been excited about a guest like this in a while. You know them, you love them, you favor every single one of their posts and put them at the top of the server every single time. According to Shawna, her new best friend, Miss Smith!” Cleo continues, finally introducing their guest as the three hosts give claps and cheers, causing the guest to laugh. They begin to calm, allowing Cleo to continue, “thank you so much for agreeing to come on the show today.”
Kate sits a bit straighter, instantly recognizing the name. A problem that U.N.I.T has been encountering over the past six months or so.
”And, just to quell any questions that we know will come across for you, may we ask you some general questions?” Abby watches the computer screen, “and, of course, you answer them how you see fit or not at all.”
”Of course,” M155 5M17H smiles, the cartoon avatar copying each of their host's movements within the video conference application. The avatar appears as an office worker with skin made of an ever moving galaxy, the gender is nondescript.
Folding her arms over her chest, Kate leans back in her office chair. She isn't surprised that M155 5M17H wouldn't show their true face or reveal any aspects of their true identity.
”First of all, is Miss Smith your actual name?” Abby asks first, “and, if not, where did the name come from?
”I won’t say if it is or isn’t.” M155 5M17H responds simply, giving a nod to indicate that is their full answer.
”You seem like you believe in the...complete opposite of the Think_Tank doctrine.” Shawna offers, “we had a few members of their organization on the show a year or so ago and it was as if...they got very popular and then all of a sudden, vanished or close to it. Now, I'm a skeptic, though I don't agree with the actions that they took. However, many skeptics did agree with Think_Tank and their actions. Why do you think such a...violent organization such as that became so powerful, so quickly?”
”Fear. It’s all fear. That’s all it’s ever been.” M155 5M17H shakes their head a little, “not that they’d ever admit that. However, seeing a Zygon unmasked for the first time, the glimmer of a Dalek eye stalk, or giant rats in London, whatever it might be, it’s easier to convince oneself that it didn’t happen or that it wasn’t real than it is to try to make heads or tales of what you’ve seen. Skeptic doesn’t mean stupid. It means that you’re open to the idea. Think_Tank didn’t do that. I don’t consider them skeptics. They didn’t want to be open even when it literally stared them in the face, I don’t know if anyone caught that video that was streamed by them when they held the people of U.N.I.T tower at gunpoint...as if that was a good idea.”
”So you think all skeptics are just afraid?” Shawna tilts her head to the side, interested in the discussion.
M155 5M17H shakes their head negatively, “not all of them, but certainly Think_Tank. Do you remember the video where they drew a major U.N.I.T presence to Colson? The one where they dressed as offworld beings? Not once did their people question where the idea for the beings’ appearance and behavior came from...which was U.N.I.T’s own files. They copied proof from U.N.I.T’s own files, that one of their inside people stole while working as an employee of U.N.I.T, while they were creating something they pretended didn’t exist.”
Kate finds herself exhaling a soft laugh, listening to the words, laughing at the disbelief painting the faces of the hosts.
”Which, no matter how you spin it, Shawna, it’s mad. Would you agree with that?” M155 5M17H offers a slight smile, knowing the answer, but wanting the group skeptic to agree.
”Even for a skeptic, I think I would.” Shawna nods, grinning at the idea.
”I’ve been trying to do that for years.” Abby replies in exasperation and a soft laugh.
”You always seem to be...on the cutting edge of the type of breaking news that our group is interested in. How do you manage?” Cleo asks finally, “How do you find your sources?”
There’s a long pause before M155 5M17H begins speaking again, ”the only thing I’ll say is this, you follow the helpers. U.N.I.T knows what they’re doing. They may have some tactics that might be considered questionable, or even shady at times, but their priority is the protection and safety of the human race. Not necessarily among ourselves, but among other races from other planets and even from this planet.” They pause briefly before repeating their words, “you follow the helpers.”
Kate reaches forward, stopping the episode on her mobile once the portion with the one they’ve come to refer to as Miss Smith finishes, muttering to herself, “follow the helpers.” She considers the comment, standing from her office chair and pulling on her blazer, catching a quick glimpse of Christofer Ibrahim opening her office door. She walks closer to him, muttering, “Follow the helpers.”
Raising an eyebrow, Christofer offers her a kind half-smile, “follow the helpers?”
“Conference room two. You grab Shirley and Mel. I’ll reach out to Osgood. No one else for the time being. Keep it off absolutely any coms.” Kate keeps her voice very low, only slightly above a whisper, meant only to her Military lead turned partner. “Give them twenty at the absolute most. I just need to grab a few things and I’ll meet you there.”
Christofer gives a single understanding nod, “yes, ma’am.” He keeps an eye on her for just a moment longer as she returns to her desk before he turns away, walking towards the hanger bay office space.
“Follow the helpers,” a young man removes his earbuds and carefully places them back into their charging case. He tilts his head to the side, his finger gliding over the trackpad of his laptop, going to the Blue Box Files dedicated message boards, peering at the uploads of the user known as M155 5M17H. Everyone has their guesses, but a part of him believes it may be a frustrated employee. However, he wonders how they’d be so-
Buzz
The young man jumps slightly at the sound of his mobile vibrating on the wooden desktop, the image of his sister flipping the bird as her caller identification. “If it isn’t my favorite little delinquent,” he begins to smile to himself.
“Hey,” her voice is rough, always was, as if she smoked a cigarette a day since birth. “What are you up to?”
“Just listened to my Blue Box Files and now I’m...reading articles, I suppose.” He licks his lips, “how was school today?”
“Couldn’t really concentrate much,” the young woman explains, lifting a hand to her scalp, running her fingers through her hair, smoothing it back. “It’s...it’s almost Mum’s anniversary and uh...it’s always difficult, you know?” She bites the skin of her lower lip, leaning back against the back of the sofa in her living room. “We’re still having dinner that day, right?”
It isn’t that he didn’t know it was coming up, but he chose to push it to the back of his mind. To allow himself to forget as much as possible, not wanting, or needing to dwell, “Frankie-”
“It’s tradition, Gordy. It’s been our tradition for years now.” The young woman sits up in her seat, Frances Lethbridge-Stewart inhales slowly, her chest tight as she reaches for her inhaler. She closes her eyes, “I’m sorry. I’m...I’m being childish. If you have plans, that’s fine. We can have dinner another day. It really doesn’t bother me. I have plenty to do anyway, it’s-”
“Can you calm down for two seconds?” Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart asks gently. He has been more of a father-figure for his sister than their own father, who abandoned their mother once after he was born and then again when their mother discovered she was pregnant with Frances. The siblings also had quite an age difference between them, but it truly never bothered Gordon. He’d protect his sister with his life if it came down to it. “I was going to ask if you wanted to come here or if you’d prefer I came there?”
A small half-smile forms in the corner of Frankie’s mouth as she squeezes her usual dosage of her inhaler into her mouth, doing her best to inhale the contents. “I’ve decorated a little. We can get a takeaway and watch telly.” If there was one thing Frances was good at, it was the friendly manipulation of her brother’s heartstrings, “something old, maybe? You know how Mum liked those old black and white films on rainy days...when she was home.”
“It would be fitting.” Gordon nods a little, licking his lips.
“I wish there were more rainy days.” Frances’ eyes glisten with un-shed tears that she keeps from her voice. She swallows, the space between them going quiet for a moment, “I’m sorry, I’m getting all...” Frankie trails a little, “you alright?"
“The um...the podcast that I listen to, they said something today that just...I don’t know.” Gordon shrugs to himself, exhaling slowly, “they said they follow the helpers to know more information and...maybe that’s what i need to do with this whole...job thing, you know?”
Frankie begins to slowly shake her head, “If you’re going to tell me about how much you want to work at U.N.I.T again, I’m-”
“It would be a great opportunity and I wouldn’t even be doing anything dangerous. I’ll see if they have anything available like...paper pushing or in admin.” Gordon shakes his head a little, “I wouldn’t even use my actual name if I could help it. I wouldn’t want any special treatment or anything anyway. Less of a target on my back.”
“Literally anywhere else. I’ll see if there’s anything at the University.” Frances shakes her head, “please.”
Gordon inhales slowly, “It’s just a place, just a building. Why can’t you-”
“I’m not having this conversation with you right now. You’re far too intelligent not to understand my point of view.” Frances replies quietly, knowing it would get to her brother. “Look, I need to go. I’ll message you-”
“When you get out of class. Mum wouldn’t want you to skip.” Gordon continues.
Francis begins to smile to herself, “good thing she happens to be dead then, she’ll never know when I’m off my arse for most of the day.”
Gordon hears as his sister disconnects her end of the line, lowering his mobile from his ear. He lifts his head, glancing over to the photograph on his mantle of himself, his mother, and his sister. Possibly the last one he has before his mother died. He swallows, “I’ll keep taking care of her, Mum, and I’ll make you proud. Don’t worry.”
He knows his sister would probably give him a hard time about speaking to a photograph as if the ghost of their mother, Kate Lethbridge-Stewart, could hear them or would even care. To Gordy, it was a comfort. A promise to himself that, maybe, somewhere, she wasn’t truly dead.