"Slow down moron, you'll get someone killed!"
It was only said quietly of course. partly because the prat who had shoved Ben into the side of the stairwell had already bounded up to the top and away to his waiting train in a hurry, but mainly because Ben was a coward. Screaming at larger people and calling them Morons was not a safe occupation for a coward. Ben finished trudging up to the top of the stairwell to take a look at the platform. It was "9 c" this time. The monitor that was supposed to tell you where your train went from was like all the others, crackly and distorted by some electrical interference.
"Are you sure this is the right platform?" piped up Ben's companion who had been leeching off him the entire journey. These questions didn't help one bit.
"How the hell should I know? Without any screens telling us where the train is how are we ever supposed to find it?"
"The destination's written on the front of the trains you know!"
Ben regarded Will contemptuously. He could tell by the twitching of that irritating short stubby nose of his that he was trying to point score again. Ben adjusted his glasses to hide the murderous glare he wanted to give Will.
"It would be better to go back across there to the gate and ask the staff don't you think? Who knows how long it could take to check out every train in the station?" Satisfied that Will's unwelcome suggestions were put down he turned to walk back down the stairwell.
"How long have we got?"
"About ten minutes," answered Ben quickly, not wanting to check his watch while stood in the path of a flood of ravenous looking commuters, most of whom were in the same predicament as they were. They looked distinctly untamed, clutching their baggage and seeking any helpful detail they could see with beady vulture-like eyes. The precise male voice of the tannoy could be heard again. Ben decided to pause whilst he listened for what could be his train. The acoustics of the platform were bad, and from what he could make of the announcement it was about a train heading for Hebden Bridge, wherever the hell that was. For some reason Will was not following. Ben stopped and turned around. What had the swine seen this time? Probably about to point out the features on some woman who would be more likely to appear on the cover of Crufts Breeder Weekly.
"Why have you stopped?" Ben spat with a little authoritarian venom. Will appeared to be rubbing his eyes. His face was creased up, either in pain or in concentration. Ben couldn't tell which.
"Can't you feel it?" Will muttered, gesturing about with his free hand at the general surrounds of the station. Ben followed his gaze across the platforms, daylight spilling down from high gaps in an otherwise dark roof, passengers chasing about, the angular shapes of trains waiting docile in bay platforms, one roaring with delight as it was allowed to pull away free into the waiting open air. Whatever had got Will's attention was not obvious.
"No," replied Ben flatly.
"But it's obvious! Sort of vibration."
Ben gave Will a condescending look. "This, Will, is a railway station! It's always vibrating with trains coming in and going-"
"No not like that! It's in here!" Will massaged his forehead again.
"Have you been taking something?"
"I wish! I can't believe you can't see it!"
Ben was just about to lose his patience, when he caught a glimpse of something in the corner of his eye. He turned to look, but nothing was there. Something was wrong but it wasn't immediately definable. He let his eye wander a moment around the station again, then it suddenly became obvious. The heat haze that you often see on a station as a train leaves was all around, and the slight ripple it caused in his vision was growing slowly worse. What was more it was becoming blue tinted.
"What the hell is that?" Ben said to the world at large. This blue hazy ripple was becoming distinct all around them, closing in. The atmosphere felt thick and viscous. Other people on the station had noticed it too. Some were just staring in astonishment. Others dropping luggage in a deranged and panic-stricken state. One or two screams were heard.
Will was crouched in disorientation. Ben thought about stooping down to help him, but he'd never forgive himself if he did that. That would be a stoop too low. The ripple was turning opaque and the world beyond the station was vanishing. It coursed around like sloshing water around a bucket, splashing over objects and people. A vortex like wind was picking up all around and Ben held onto a timetable board to steady himself as he tried to take in the events around him. The brilliant blue vortex seemed to be wiping the station away from reality, scouring at brickwork and seating, blasting them out of perception, circling ever inward towards where Ben was stood. It was very loud.
***
A strange thunderous cry ripped at his ears and an unearthly rumble could be felt through his feet. The Vortex turned from blue to pink, illuminating what remained of the station in a watery red. It surged and criss-crossing tendrils of energy shot out all around Ben blinding him. He fell to the ground holding his eyes and was not quite able to grasp why it did not feel like a platform surface he had fallen to. It didn't seem too important at that moment. A sound like a crash of thunder echoed all around. Ben stumbled on the ground trying to shake his disorientation, looking for the sturdy purchase hold he had found in the timetable boards, but he couldn't find it. Slowly lights and shapes returned to his eyes, but it was a world of complete chaos. He felt like he was outside. A wind was blowing on his face and he was sure he could feel a few spots of rain. Continuing to stagger about he bumped into something soft. It was obviously a body. He lost his balance completely and fell on top of the body in a tangle of limbs. There was a feminine cry of surprise from beneath him somewhere and Ben blinked hard. Finally his eyesight was no longer dazzled and he could finally make out the world around him.
***
He was looking straight down at a woman's face. She was in her early 20's and very attractive, even if her long blonde hair was strewn about on peaty soil. She stared back up at him, looking into his eyes.
"Oh I am ever so sorry!" he stuttered and slowly took her hand to gently help her up. She was unsteady on her feet, almost as much as he was and she collapsed onto his shoulder for support.
"Are you ok?" he asked her, admiring her small angular face and high cheekbones.
"I think so..." she said softly, and smiled at him for what seemed like an eternity. Then she looked away and the smile was wiped from her face in an instant. She gripped his shoulders tightly and put a hand to her mouth. Her brilliant blue eyes widened with horror. For the first time Ben found himself with an incentive to look at something other than this beautiful obstacle that had broken his fall.
"Oh...my......." He fumbled and unconsciously held the woman tighter. She didn't seem to mind. For all around them, where there was once a bustling city station, was now bare soil, surrounded by the city streets. Like someone had just scooped up the station and left all the people, who were scattered about in various states of consciousness. It was like a giant was playing Sim city, and they had just bulldozed the station. The ground they were on was bare earth. Some few hundred yards away he could see railway lines cut off as they reached the edge of the earthy perimeter. The sky above was grey and overcast, and around in the city, cars had stopped, sirens blared and people were running towards them. Everything felt completely calm, like the eye of the storm. Ben looked down to the woman in his arms.
"Where... did the station go?" she muttered in an accent that might have been west country.
"I... don't....know..." Ben answered vacantly. The pair held onto each other as if they were unsure that reality would still be intact if they ever let go. It seemed quite tranquil now, as if the horror was over and done with, yet all around in the city, the panic was only just beginning.
***
Bramwell tapped a dial with his fingernail. The thin red needle within bounced lightly, reacting to his touch. It showed the boiler pressure as being low. This could only mean the sludge was going to have to be cleaned out. It was probably blocking a valve somewhere. He spun an iron wheel which was built into the brass piping above the dial. A hiss of steam could be heard from outside, and a cloud of white vapour quietly swirled into the driver's cab. He looked out to the side of the locomotive. He had expertly shunted the small tank engine into the bay platform of Wesconseembe station. Slowly he let the boiler pressure die down and beckoned the fireman over to begin raking out the firebox. Bramwell retrieved a white handkerchief from his top pocket and begun to scrub the oily residue from his ageing fingers and wipe some of the coal dust from his thick spectacles. He squeezed out of the cab and lowered himself carefully down from the footplate and onto the sandy flagstones of the station platform. He breathed in some of the sweet aroma of the steam and straightened his cap which was proudly emblazoned with the letters "~^' V R" and begun to make his way from the tank engine over to the small redbrick station building. He walked past a lamplighter who was checking the gas lamps of the station ready for the dusk which would soon be approaching. There was one other person on the platform. This particular person had long curly brown hair and a grey velvet coat which seemed to have a strange blue-green sheen to it. He was currently bent down over a hand cart which was laden with rusty milk churns. He lifted his head to spot Bramwell and stood up straight to greet him. This stranger was certainly tall, and had piercing blue eyes. His clothing was somewhat out of date, but it was not unlike visitors to at least try to get into the spirit of the occasion.
"That's a bit of a mistake. Most of these milk churns are not even from this region you know. Also the last one has a date of 1953 and I thought this station was supposed to be mocked up to appear as it would in the 1930's?" His voice was plainly English and confident.
"We can't always get the items we specifically want you know. The milk churns were only an added extra anyhow."
"My dear fellow, sometimes it's those little details that make it all worth while!" The man took in a deep breath and spotted the tank engine from which Bramwell had just disembarked and walked over to it.
"Can I help you?" Bramwell said, trying to make this strange visitor more aware of his presence. The man patted the tank engine affectionately and turned around to face Bramwell.
"It's a fractured feed to the piston. Some oil or other debris must have got into the engine's tubes. It's not bad at the moment but boiler pressure will probably be low. I suggest you replace the feed before you get a major breakdown." The man seemed pleased with his assessment. With good reason too. If he was right, he could have just saved hours of work trying to trace the source of the old puffer's ailment.
"Remarkable! How could you tell?" enquired Bramwell.
"Well, there was a strange sibilance when the steam was released; it could only be a problem of that nature. Now Mr....?"
"Bramwell, Station Master Bramwell."
"Bramwell... yes.. You're Human aren't you?"
"Yes," replied Bramwell shortly.
"Good, you don't know where I could find Murgo do you?" The man smiled at him.
"He will be up at the controllers office sir. Shall I call him for you?"
"Yes please. Tell him the Doctor wishes to speak with him urgently."
"Very well." Bramwell replied and lifted his arm. He slid back his sleeve to reveal the metallic grey of the Comm and flicked open the screen by pressing the release catch. A row of buttons lit up and rainbow patterns danced across them as he dialled in his access code. With a tinny bleep the Comm link to the Controller's office was established. The small screen was filled by the image of a lumpy green figure in eccentric Edwardian clothing.
"Yes Station Master?" asked the image on the screen in a deep voice.
"There's someone here to see you sir.... Called the Doctor."
***
"Oh man! You won't believe these sound levels!" complained the sound recordist, switching the camera to automatic sound adjustment in a last ditch attempt to provide them with an acceptable background noise level. The Newscaster crept from his refuge by the OB van and stared at the crowd of jeering people, who had decided that the disappearance of their city's railway station was cause for a drunken riotous celebration on the well trodden soil of where it once stood.
"Look! Will you all just SHUT UP!" screamed the newscaster, screwing up his foam cup of coffee only half drunk and flung it into the crowd. "I work for the BBC, and I won't stand for this behaviour on one of my broadcasts!" The director heard this and slowly sunk his head into his hands. This was a hell of a job as it was without that egotistical moron stirring the crowd up more.
"Are we going to be on Calendar tonight?" shouted a pink and green haired woman from somewhere amongst the rabble. The director looked at the sound recordist in despair, who merely shrugged in resignation as a reply.
"Calendar! I'm a professional! Not one of those Yorkshire TV hacks! Ha!"
***
The arguments continued as the BBC Look North news crew continued attempting to set up a successful broadcast. Ben watched with faint amusement, but had found something less trivial to occupy his every thought than a railway station vanishing in front of his eyes. He squeezed her hand tightly and she smiled back at him.
"What are you going to do about your holiday now?" she asked him.
"Oh I don't know Jem. I suppose the fact my tickets are booked from a station that doesn't exist sort of ruins my travel plans. How long were you staying in Leeds for?"
"My conference goes on for five days. I think I'll have to rest for a few days after such a traumatic experience however." She winked at him.
"Do you know Leeds well?" Ben asked, grinning back.
"Not very well no. What I could really do with is a guide."
"Well I'm sure I can spend some time showing you the sites!" laughed Ben.
"Ben, where's my bag?" demanded Will from one side.
"Push off Will," muttered Ben and embraced Jem tightly in a way that he hoped would annoy Will enough to get him out of his way for a while.
***
The sound recordist, after dragging the frenzied Newscaster back from the crowd decided to take a moment to watch events around him instead of listening to them. The whole 10 acres of absent station was flooded with people, fluorescent jacketed Rail Track workers pottering about in complete confusion (little change there). Police and fire vehicles were parked haphazardly about the scene and they too, seemed to be unsure as to what to do. The whole chaotic scene seemed very pointless, but certainly newsworthy, and that kept his salary coming in!
"Look at that cow!" The Sound Recordist followed the gaze of the Newscaster. He was looking across to another OB van, a larger one with the Yorkshire Television logo plastered on the side. On top of the van, a camera had been set up and Gaynor Barnes was lightly powdering her nose ready to go on air. She glanced over towards the Look North crew, smiled and gave a discouragingly sweet wave. The Director dived out of the van to grab the Newscaster before he could return a hand gesture to their rivals that was less than pleasant.
"No mate! We don't want another Richard Whitely incident! Keep it calm, or you'll be doing the news in Welsh for life!" The Newscaster scowled and flashed a venomous look across the crowd towards the YTV crew.
"Just look at her! She's not real news reporting material! I mean she trained as a newspaper Journalist. What does she know about programme making? Completely OTT you know, and made up like a common Bradford tar-"
"Listen, can you do us a quick interview? There's this lad here, Phil, who's..."
"Its Will actually," replied the stubby nosed spectacled lad who was dressed like he was off hiking.
"Yeah Kid whatever, anyway, can you just record a quick piece with...erm.. Bill, and then we can insert that in later." The Director looked pleadingly at the Newscaster.
"Oh alright, Just take it from my right side this time! And have my paracetamol and Ribena ready afterwards!" The cameraman trotted out, sighed to the Sound Recordist and composed his shot. The Sound Recordist lifted his boom and gave one last despairing look at the sound meters.
"Run VT!" bellowed the Director before gulping down another cup of what was probably a stronger brew than tea.
"Speed..." mumbled the Cameraman disinterestedly.
"In... your own time..." confirmed the Director gulping hard from his drink.
"With me now I have someone who was actually on the station at the time of its mysterious disappearance! Can you tell me what happened?"
"Yeah," muttered Will, quickly composing himself for a debut on regional TV. "It was like... Whoosh! Washed away like. Lights everywhere! It was really freaky!"
"I see... and do you know why the station might have disappeared?"
"Course I do! Aliens did it! They were going to do weird genetically modified experiments on us or something like that! Stands to reason doesn't it?"
"But why would these aliens need a railway station?" spat the Newscaster with obvious disgust.
"Well... I... I suppose they might have tried to capture a train or something. You know, you hear about vehicles going missing! But they took a station by mistake! It's the start of an invasion you know! I saw Independence Day! Eh..?" Will looked on as the Newscaster walked away from the recording camera. The Newscaster could be heard shouting things to the world at larger as he merged into the masses.
"I'll never be able to show my face on Wood Lane again!
"He never did get over Auntie's Sporting Bloomers you know," flippantly remarked the cameraman stopping the tape.
"He'll be back" sighed the Director looking at the Newscaster's paracetamol before swallowing them himself.
***
"What about me?" questioned Will, who had now become unimportant and consequently invisible to the news crew.
"Right Lads!" came a friendly voice.
"Alright Steve!" grinned the Director shaking the hand of the headphone wearing arrival who sported a Calendar News T-shirt.
"Listen, us lot from't Calendar van're done, you lot want ta join us down't Pub?"
"Yeah why not," shrugged the Director.
"What do we tell BBC Leeds?" enquired the sound recordist with a worried frown.
"Technical difficulties!" answered the Cameraman who promptly dropped the Camera to the muddy floor without a second thought. It landed with a crumpling thud. "Oops!" He grinned.
***
And as the end of many a busy day, off into the sunset walked the combined news forces of ITV and the BBC on a mission to get completely smashed in the nearest pub.
Whilst in each others' arms a new romance bloomed amongst the chaotic vacuum.
A vacuum that had become the scene of the largest street party celebration the city had ever seen. Why they were celebrating, no one was sure, but it was the beginning of summer. Ice Cream vans had rolled onto the void accompanied by hot dog stands and mobile bars. While Rail Track maintenance workers collapsed in heaps of enraged confusion, the people laughed and danced until they dropped.
***
"And they used to run these wonderful Pannier tanks on this line!" enthused Murgo in his deep resonating voice. Although he was actually an eight foot tall green amphibious biped, he managed to look quite impressive in Edwardian costume posing as a railway controller of that period. He was leading the Doctor down the platform of one of his Great Western Railway stations jabbing the air with his walking stick, pointing at all the items of special interest. Of course to Murgo, every brick and beam was of special interest. Bramwell followed close behind, hands behind back, keeping out of the action. It was a nice evening. The pink clouds rose high in the yellow skies, while the Volcanoes smoked peacefully, sending steams of brown vapour gently up into the stratosphere. Blue grass quivered in the light breeze and orange trees swayed as Ornaphibians squealed and wailed to one another within the secrecy of the leaves and branches. Murgo was continuing to explain every detail of the railway station to the Doctor who was walking along in a solemn silence, nodding occasionally. Bramwell had seen this reaction many a time before.
"I especially like this platform because the ornate decor on the lamps are quite beautiful. Certainly better than the Standard Great Western railway design. As you can observe the Brunellian extra wide rail width for the 7 foot gauge engines was included even though this is a late construction by South west standards. From here of course you had the branch lines to Bodmin, which was closed in the 1960's by that terrible Dr Beeching, and then heading south you could catch trains..."
"Murgo!" shouted the Doctor, not unkindly, but with enough authority to stop the trio in their paths.
"Yes?" questioned Murgo, oblivious to any reason the Doctor may have asked him to stop talking." The Doctor brushed a lock of curled hair from his face and inhaled.
"Murgo, as much as I appreciate your affinity for Earth railways, I am very much afraid I did not come here to browse your fine collection of branch line stations!" Murgo laughed nervously.
"So Doctor, why are you here?"
"I'm here because of a complaint." Murgo fidgeted with his walking cane.
"It would be safer to say my dear fellow that the High Council are more than just a little concerned!" Bramwell sighed. Somehow he knew this one was going to get them in trouble. He lowered his mirrored spectacles that both he and Murgo were wearing which enabled them to tell holographic images and people from the real thing.
"I think we'd better show him Murgo."
"Yes, tell me what you took this time!" smiled the Doctor patting Murgo on the back. They began to make their way into the station building. Murgo opened a telegraph covering and typed in a numeric sequence on the computer control panel that was hidden beneath. A dark brown wooden door, on which the words "PRIVATE" were inscribed flickered and blurred momentarily like the lens on a camera readjusting its focus.
"Just through here!" exclaimed Murgo who unlocked the door and led them through. Inside it lead to a narrow steel corridor that was light, but had no visible light source. The footsteps of the Doctor, Murgo and Bramwell echoed as they approached another wooden door at the other end. "Its not been stolen you know! I only do it to preserve them! They were going to knock it down and I do get so upset when they do that. I've been needing a large draw for visitors for a while. The preservation society gets so few donations these days." Murgo opened the door at the far end with a slight noticeable apprehension. It could have been excitement, after all this time Bramwell was not always sure he could read the emotions of his alien employer. The Doctor gaped as he stepped onto another railway station.
"My word! Murgo what on earth have you taken?" Bramwell stood behind admiring his handiwork with the acoustics and holographic crowds. 14 platforms of early 21st century trains all working as if they were back home. People bustled about their daily routines and tannoys announced the departures of trains to destinations over 40,000 light years away.
"My pride and joy!" exulted Murgo, spreading his arms wide in a grand gesture.
"This is a metropolitan station!" Complained the Doctor craning his neck about to see just how large the station really was.
***
"Is it not magnificent?" beamed Murgo, taking a moment to bow to a passing holographic family.
"Yes but I'm afraid that's not the point is it Murgo?" explained the Doctor in an exasperated manner. "You stole it from its time stream and it was still in use wasn't it?"
"But Doctor..." started Murgo but the Doctor was not finished.
"No but Doctor's Murgo! Now you can smuggle away the odd disused brickwork from country backwaters but this... The sheer magnitude of the chaos you must have caused!"
"They were going to build a new one anyway!" bickered Murgo tapping his cane on the hard floor to emphasise his point.
"Yes Murgo but isn't it likely they were expecting to build it after demolishing the old one? I'm sorry I can't let this one pass my friend. How many Humans witnessed you take this one?""
"One or two... might have done," ventured Murgo shuffling on the spot.
"That's Villaxaen for everyone in a two mile radius," sighed Bramwell.
"Whatever happened to company loyalty?" whimpered Murgo staring at Bramwell through his mirrored spectacles.
"You are going to have to send it back!" announced the Doctor.
"When?" inquired Murgo apprehensively.
"Well, now is a good time," sharply replied the Doctor.
"Couldn't I keep it for just a few months?" pleaded Murgo. "I mean look at these computer display monitors! Works of artistry! All connecting using such quaint engineering to simple computers. Crafted and moulded using old fashioned petroleum based materials! The Humans really don't know what rich delights they created! Please Doctor, just a little longer?" The Doctor looked about the noisy station and exhaled slowly mulling it over. He turned suddenly.
"Nope!" burst the Doctor light heartedly and began to stroll away. "Inform me when it's back in its correct position."
"Oh... alright." Murgo resigned childishly and looked at Bramwell who simply returned a shrug.
"Oh and Murgo!" called the Doctor from the portal doorway.
"Yes?"
"Next time you want to take a station... ask me first!"
***
"How long have we got?"
"About ten minutes," answered Ben quickly, not wanting to check his watch while stood in the path of a flood of ravenous looking commuters, most of which who were in the same predicament they were. They looked distinctly untamed, clutching their baggage and seeking any helpful detail they could see with beady vulture like eyes. For some reason Will was not following. Ben stopped and turned around. What had the swine seen this time? Probably about to point out the features on some woman who would be more likely to appear on the cover of "Crufts breeder weekly."
"Why have you stopped?" Ben spat with a little authoritarian venom. Will appeared to be rubbing his eyes. His face was creased up, either in pain or in concentration. Ben couldn't tell which.
"Can't you feel it?" Will muttered, gesturing about with his free hand at the general surrounds of the station. Ben followed his gaze across the platforms, daylight spilling down from high gaps in an otherwise dark roof, passengers chasing about, the angular shapes of trains waiting docile in bay platforms, one roaring with delight as it was allowed to pull away free into the waiting open air. Whatever had got Will's attention was not obvious.
"No," replied Ben flatly.
***
"Oh... that's odd. Neither can I now." Will stood puzzled a bit longer.
"Look! You can play weird later. First lets find this train shall we?" Will began to follow. Ben strolled over to the stairs glancing back to make sure his dawdling partner was keeping up. He turned back and narrowly avoided bumping into a woman who had reached the top of the stairs. Ben dived to the side.
"I do beg your pardon." He stuttered. She flashed a brilliant smile at him briefly and continued on her way. She was ever so attractive and Ben sighed sadly.
"If only they'd look twice occasionally." He began to walk down the stairwell. It was very strange. Although he was confident he had never seen that woman before, she seemed somehow familiar. Ben passed another figure by the platform entrance. A tall thin bearded man in his late 50's. He was watching the station with shifty eyes and was dressed in peculiar work clothes, like he belonged on the station some 50 years beforehand. He wore a cap with the insignia "~^' V R" and was speaking into a mobile phone like contraption that was strapped to his wrist. Ben looked about to see if the monitors this side of the station were working. Time was running short and he could not afford to miss the connection. Will hovered about unhelpfully. Something suddenly became apparent.
"Where are all the monitors?" Will gave Ben a questioning glance before looking around himself. No matter where they looked, all the brackets on the ceilings and pylons that once held monitors, were now empty. He was sure they had been there a few minutes ago.
"That's not possible!" Will cried. Ben also noticed the strange bearded man who had been on his strange wrist mobile was also gone.
"Where did he go?" Ben muttered to himself.
"Who?" Will asked.
"Oh... never mind. I must be imagining things too."
***
Several thousand light years away on an authentic English country station a large green amphibious biped marvelled at his latest addition to the quaint 1950's atmosphere.
"Are you quite sure that they fit in?" puzzled Bramwell. Blue grass and yellow skies were one thing but the latest additions just seemed even less correct somehow.
"Oh they complement the architecture beautifully!" enthused Murgo reaching up and patting one of the many computer monitors freshly installed, each flickering and displaying a list of destinations in West Yorkshire.
"I don't know Murgo. When I worked for British Rail we were still using chalk boards." Bramwell turned about and strolled off to his lodgings. It had been a long day. Here he was, far away from his own space and time amongst aliens and exotic volcanoes, and still doing the job he had done for 25 years. In a way he was just as much an exhibit in Murgo's eccentric collection as the rest of the crumbling brickwork, steam trains and iron footbridges, but once a Railwayman always a Railwayman, no matter what side of the Galaxy your branch line is on.
