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"Brigadier! I must speak with you on a matter of some urgency!"
Alistair dragged himself out from under his warm, comfortable duvet, so that he was sitting with his back propped up against the headboard. He was accustomed to the Doctor ringing him up with vague-yet-dire warnings, but the various alien threats targeting Britain were usually courteous enough to let him get a good night's sleep in. How had the Doctor even gotten this number? Captain Yates was under strict orders in regards to his contact information.
No, no -- no time to be testy. Rise and shine, old chap. It could be Silurians.
Alistair adjusted the telephone receiver against his ear. "I'm sorry, Doctor. Come again?"
He turned his beside lamp on, and winced at the glare.
"Listen to me: I have reason to believe that the future of humanity is in very grave danger!" The Doctor's voice crackled over the phone line. "You must alert all UNIT command centres at once."
"Grave danger?" Alistair perked up. "Is it Silurians?"
Alistair liked Silurians. They were a respectable threat for a respectable military operation. None of this nonsense with mad yetis and killer flowers -- a man could feel proud of his place in the world, when he spent his days beating back genocidal lizard warriors for Queen and country.
"Of course it's not Silurians," the Doctor said, heedless of the way in which Alistair deflated against his pillow. "I've had a dream."
"You've had a dream."
"Yes I have. A highly disturbing dream, with significant-"
"- implications regarding the future of humanity, which is in very grave danger. Yes, Doctor, I was listening. You've had another dream about the Master."
Alistair did not sigh. Nor did he pinch the bridge of his nose between his thumb and his index finger.
"I-" The Doctor fell uncharacteristically silent. Alistair listened to him breathe while he gathered his thoughts together. "That is to say-- with all I've done for you and your organization, I feel that you should take heed of my warnings without second-guessing everything I tell you. It's patronizing and I won't have it."
Alistair knew that he was going to regret this, in the same way that he regretted eating the jello mold at his cousin's graduation, or impulsively shaving his moustache off during his early days at officer's college. But Alistair was a man of principle. If there was any real threat in play, he had to ensure that it was dealt with by the proper authorities.
"Doctor," Alistair said. "If this dream has legitimate military significance, then I must insist that you share the details."
More silence. Until the story spilled from the Doctor's lips in a sudden, inelegant blurt.
"It's the Queen, you see. I saw her on a newscast the other night -- quite a poised and accomplished woman, by all accounts -- and I'm sure he must have as well. I'll bet it gave him all sorts of destructive ideas. You know how the Master operates. He could do truly despicable things to her. He could be luring her into his clutches even now, with that dark stare of his, and his filthy voice sinking under her skin." The Doctor made noise in the back of his throat. "In my dream they were on a train passing through a mountain tunnel into a giant gaping volcano. I was also there but I had been chained to a chaise lounge, so there was nothing I could do to activate the brakes. That's why I'm afraid that I must count on you to rectify this situation."
Alistair decided not to think about any part of the last thirty seconds. Instead, he thought about planning tactical air-strikes against the Silurian infantry. It would be difficult to get spotters into place, but he was sure that his men could prevail so long as their radio codes weren't cracked by enemy cryptographers.
"You had a dream about the Master and Queen Elizabeth the Second."
"That's what I said, isn't it!? Now tell your men to locate the Master so that he can be dragged back to his cell where he belongs."
"Doctor--"
"And spare the train, if possible. I'm quite fond of trains."
"Good night, Doctor."
Alistair hung up.