Chapter Text
Christofer leans over to Kate’s ear once she enters the conference room, “Room is clean.” He knows she would understand his indication that he checked the room for any recording devices. The pair of them were able to work together on a different wavelength. She was the right hand to his left, his other half, through and through. They just...understood one another.
“Thank you, Colonel.” Kate replies with a quick nod, glancing around the room at the table of familiar, trusted individuals.
“I had a feeling I know what this is about, so I took the liberty of playing the questionable portion of the podcast for Mel and Shirley.” Osgood offers her mentor turned dear friend a soft smile, hoping she did the right thing.
“Perfect, saves us time.” Kate nods, turning her head to look at Christofer, “you can listen to it later. It isn’t terribly long.” She returns to look around the room, “I’ve also brought my laptop for everyone to view the visual evidence. I’d like your impressions and what you believe is happening here.” Kate always appreciates the input from her team, wanting to know if this was just her imagination running wild or something she should earnestly be concerned about. Well, of course she should be concerned, she knew that much, but it was more about where that concern should be directed. “Osgood, if you would, please.”
“Of course.” Osgood types a few things on the laptop before plugging it into the projector cord for the room, easier and safer than streaming, putting the screen on the wall. She navigates to the various social networks for the Blue Box Files podcast, including their message boards. “I think this may be the easiest place to see it first.”
“That’s the...the health assessment on the Skarasen in Scotland.” Shirley furrows her brow, “we took great lengths to ensure there were no witnesses.”
“That’s the thing about Miss Smith. She just...manages.” Osgood shakes her head a little, moving to another post. "Here's another where we were checking in with a Zygon family who were having issues with their neighbors. The husband, as you can see here, is unwrapping his arm to show us a wound, which was keeping him from masking that part of his body. Now, Miss Smith did blur the individual’s face, which is a small saving grace, but they were still able to obtain this information.”
Melanie folds her arms, leaning back in her chair a little, “Miss Smith...in um...what’s it called...”
“Leetspeak.” Kate, Osgood, and Shirley respond in unison without hesitation.
“Leetspeak,” Mel nods slowly, agreeing with them, “do we think it’s a reference to the Doctor referring to himself as John Smith as we know he likes to do, is it possibly a reference to Sarah Jane Smith, a reference to their actual name, or...no connection to any of those options and just a name they’re using.”
"Why do you think Sarah Jane Smith would be a consideration?" Kate places her hands on her hips, still standing next to the table, watching her small team.
"This is, essentially, investigative journalism, which was her profession after traveling with the Doctor." Mel explains, "she was a good friend."
Kate offers a tight, closed-mouth smile with a subtle nod, "never thought of it that way though. Good point."
"Rani Chandra, who worked closely with Sarah Jane Smith while she resided on Bannerman Road, wouldn't take her name for anything. I also don't believe she would post anything in Leetspeek. She doesn't seem the type." Shirley thinks aloud, "this is a more…guerilla-like approach. Staying to the shadows. A part of me wonders if it might be a network or a team of people."
"Well, if it is, they aren't saying so." Kate shakes her head a little, looking up at the projected screen.
"What about a drone?" Christofer asks, standing in front of the door, not willing to allow entry to anyone that wasn't cleared by his Commander. He points at the screen when another picture comes up, "that one is my team and I-"
"I recognize the short sleeves." Kate interrupts playfully, smiling to herself, amused when she hears him huff a soft laugh.
"I can say, my team completely canvased the premises. This was the suspected Cerberus activity surveying Zygon-owned businesses and homes." Christofer explains, when the others seem slightly confused, "humans who continually attempt to provoke non-human species to attack so that they can retaliate and it appear justified, though most don't even care about that part. They hate anyone that isn't human and, many will attack on sight."
"A drone is a good suggestion, actually." Shirley nods slowly, "I'm unsure, however, if there are any that are without or with very limited sound. Usually they have, at least, a soft buzzing of a motor."
"If it was small enough, however, it may have that same buzz, but it would be less noticeable and easier to hide." Osgood offers, "I know of our tech, but I don't know if they're available to the public though."
"Wait," Kate turns her head quickly, looking at Osgood as she accesses her memories. "I seem to remember a report regarding the repair of some of the Ravens that were a tad worse for wear and reporting that two of them had gone missing and were offline." She points at the screen, "scroll up again." She takes a step closer when Osgood follows instructions. "That one is taken from a height, telephone pole height."
"Could they easily be altered?" Shirley thinks aloud, "if they were to come back online, is there a way we could find them?"
"Only if their locator chips are still intact and weren't removed." Osgood explains softly.
"They could be…altered though. Reprogrammed." Melanie explains, leaning forward. Her arms are folded atop the conference table as she continues, "obviously, I can't say for certain. Robotics and animatronics aren't my fields, but at its root, it's all code. I can do code."
Kate nods absently, turning around and taking a few steps over to an empty seat at the head of the conference room table. An unspoken rule that no one would sit there except for the Commander. She pulls it back from the table and sits gingerly, "Colonel Ibrahim, did you notice-"
"I was not looking for birds, ma'am." Christofer mutters, shaking his head with an amused glimmer in his eye.
"Probably for the best." Kate nods, leaning back in the chair. "Okay, we don't know for a fact that one of our birds was used by Miss Smith to gather information. That is a suggestion that requires some investigation, however. What other options do we have?"
"Accessing CCTV cameras." Shirley offers, "to piggy-back off of Mel's idea, I'm sure it wouldn't be terribly difficult for a master coder."
"For some of them. There are a few locations here that wouldn't have any state-issued cameras around." Osgood points out, "I think the Colonel is on the right path though with the drone idea though. At least that's one method of observation, CCTV is another."
"More importantly, and above all of these ideas, I believe this indicates that we may have another leak." Kate sighs softly, "Shirley, I need you to compile a list of those that you believe may have the ability to do any of this. Melanie, see if we're able to track IP addresses or whatever else may be able to lead us to someone or any details or hints to identity. Osgood, keep a close eye on any updates from Miss Smith. Colonel," Kate glances up at the man, still standing over at the entry door, hands folded at ease in front of his waist. "well, I'm not entirely-"
"I'll just look for birds," Christofer offers, an amused half-smile in the corner of his mouth.
Frankie takes a sip of her drink, one of her mother's favorites, an Amaretto Sour without the egg. Never needs the egg, she remembers her mother muttering after a long night in the lab, standing in their kitchen, compiling the drink as if making one of her scientific potions to test. Expertly.
Gordon lets himself into her flat. He always had a key just in case., especially since she was living alone in a flat at University. "Went to the chippy, just like you texted me about earlier," he calls out. "Grabbed a few things, including fish and chicken strips. We can have variety."
"Variety," Frankie exhales a breathy laugh to herself, "as long as you got the good chips with that chip seasoning on them from that place by your house, I'll be thankful."
"Well, you're in luck, you spoiled brat." Gordon places the bag onto her small dining room table. "How was school today?" When his sister doesn't answer right away, he lifts his gaze from unpacking the bag of food, looking over at his sister, "Frankie."
Shrugging a single shoulder, Frankie brings the drink to her lips, taking a long sip. "One day is not going to ruin anything and I'm at the top of my class, it doesn't matter." Frankie exhales softly, "can I make you something to drink?" She absently motions to the kitchen with a tilt of her head, "I got stuff for Mum's favorites. So your options are Amaretto Sour, Grasshoppers, Traditional Gimlet, and a bottle of Viognier."
Gordon raises an eyebrow, "and how many have you had already?"
"Oh my days, what is your problem?" Frankie furrows her brow, "I'm not some…underage teenager looking to-"
"You aren't far from it." Gordon shakes his head with a soft, exhaspirated sigh, returning his gaze to the food in front of him. Once he's finished unpacking the bag, he begins to take his jacket off, hanging it on the back of the chair. "I mean, technically, you've only just started on the stuff. Technically, you are a teenager looking to-"
"If you're going to be a miserable bellend, why even come over?" Frankie lifts a hand, moving a few whisps of hair at her temples that had fallen from her messy bun, behind her ear. "For fucks sake, it's one day, Gordy. One day so that I can…so that I can breathe and remember Mum in a way that works best for me."
"Getting shit-faced works best for you?" Gordon continues, "the hangover alone would-"
"Do you want a fucking drink or not?" Frankie interrupts him, raising her voice ever so slightly. Not shouting, just injecting a bit of bass.
Gordon wasn't expecting his sister to sound like her. Especially with how rough her voice often is. It causes him to pause, his train of thought to abandon him. Gordy swallows, "I'll have whatever you're having."
Frankie gives a quick nod, clearing her throat as she slinks toward the kitchen, "I have three films set up. Whether we watch them actively or they play in the background is up to you. Jeannie, The Captive Heart, and The Sea Shall Not Have Them. All of them close to ninety minutes a pop." She makes the Amaretto Sour like her own, carrying it to the living room area, offering it to her brother.
"Can you at least also have some water while you have that? It will ease the blow of the hangover…I promise." Gordy takes the drink from his sister, swirling it absently in the glass before taking a sip, "what is this?"
"Amaretto Sour." Frankie mutters softly, stepping to the kitchen table silently and taking a seat.
Gordon watches, sitting on the sofa arm, watching his sister, "you know, I don't mean to-"
"I was having a good day at school and…and then I was called down to the headmistress' office…and there were U.N.I.T officials standing there, ordered to take me in. Some…some U.N.I.T protocol, I'm sure. You were already there." Frankie opens the wrapped food, "and I knew…before they even said anything, I could see it on your face." She takes a bite of a single chip, not wanting to look at her brother, keenly aware that he's watching her. "That's the part I remember most about that day, by the way. It was your face."
Tilting his head to the side, Gordy thinks for a moment, "I don't remember that day."
Frankie expected that answer, it was a long time until she started to remember as well. She exhales a soft single huff of rueful amusement, her voice remaining quiet, "well, lucky you." After a moment, her brother takes a seat at the chair opposite her, "do you ever wonder if U.N.I.T…made you forget?"
Gordon sighs, doing everything in his power not to roll his eyes, "why must you go to the worst possible outcome?"
"Because that's what U.N.I.T does. They make people forget what is inconvient to them for someone to remember." Frankie answers quietly, "I know it's…our legacy or whatever, but that doesn't mean they aren't questionable or without faults." She licks her lips, taking a moment before speaking again, "if you plan to work there, just…be careful, please. For me."
"Well, I'm glad you're bringing this up because I actually got a job with them." Gordon raises an eyebrow as his gaze lifts to look at his sister's eyes, "data entry and document procurement. Whatever that means, but it's a foot in the door."
"Well, hopefully, that foot doesn't get blown off." Frankie offers her brother a cheeky grin, only causing him to laugh to himself.