Red Bicycle Chapter Three: Orders from Above (3/8?) (Doctor Who)
Type: Fanfiction
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: T/PG-13
Status: Incomplete (but not by much)
Title: Red Bicycle
Pairings/Characters: The Doctor (Ten), young!Rose, young!Mickey, younger-Jackie, Boe!Jack; Ten/Rose, Ten/young!Rose
Spoiler Warnings: This story is AU post-Doomsday. It could take S3 into account, but it might not. I read my ficathon prompt over and over and this is the one idea that kept coming back. It is Rose pre-Doomsday, however, I do realize that it was one of the looser interpretations of my prompt. There is a very ambiguous reference to a Torchwood character (not Jack) in later chapters but you'd have to watch closely to catch it. The thing that's most important to understand about this story is that the Doctor has been through the events of Doomsday (at least) and the others have not.
Beta(s), other credit: fancy_galloway for beta-ing, jedi_of_urth for her plotting help
Summary/Public Notes: The Doctor decides to do something reckless to ease his conscience. A Time Agent is given an assignment that may change the history and future of the Universe. A teenage girl on a Council Estate in London is caught in the middle.
*[This summary could do with some work.]
**The reason for the delay is a good one: I had two important essays, a governor's school application, and a research paper I had to work on during the writing period. I also have an icon challenge that needs doing in the next week.
This story is a response to a challenge at the time_x_space Ficathon
Previous Chapter list:
Chapter One: Christmas Presents
Chapter Two: Breaking the Rules
Red Bicycle
Chapter Three: Orders from Above
The buzzing sound of the PA system crackling to life made everyone onboard the S.S. Bae Caerdydd stop and look up vaguely at the yellow-painted ceiling as if it was somehow related to their hearing the electronic voice's broadcast. Perfect soldier ants, each and every one of them, though they all laughed every time they happened to notice how well-trained they were.
"Attention all personnel. Attention all personnel," the tinny, female voice said. Then, it continued with a laugh and a vaguely affectionate lilt, "Boe. Wherever you are, stop flirting and report to the Central Office."
The Captain groaned under his breath. He was busy flirting and seemed to be doing a good job of it too. His present company was far more pleasant than anything in the Central Office could ever be.
"Duty calls," he said with a heavy exhale as he stood up, giving his new friend his most winning smile. When he'd walked almost to the exit of the mess hall he looked back with a brief regretful glance. This was one of the best jobs he could ask for but it always had managed to ruin at least half his fun.
When he got to the Central Office he pressed his thumb against a glowing pad next to the door and a line of bright, white light ran down through the field of blue, registering his thumb print and pulse. The scanner beeped and the door hissed as it slid back and Jack stepped through. Before him was a dark, mahogany coloured, wooden desk that looked ancient but ridiculously well-maintained.
"Boe," came the voice from the backward-turned office chair behind the desk, almost sounding sarcastic and biting. The way he said it was nothing like the friendly female voice over the comm. His voice sounded soft, clipped, and ingratiating and the Captain got the distinct feeling he wasn't going to like what he was about to be told.
He didn't- but a job was a job.
For a long time he stared at the paper folder that was spread open on Mr. Manger's desk and, finally, he exhaled heavily and lifted himself up by pressing on his knees.
"Further orders, sir? Do I have a cover, or just quick clean-up?"
"Avoid contact as much as possible," Mr. Manger eventually decided as he finally turned around fully in his desk-chair, tapping his fingers together thoughtfully. "Although," he added with a sly grin which at first seem directed at the file folder until he looked up, "...if asked a name perhaps you should supply one that isn't your own. The Twenty-first Century is when everything changes and you should be ready."
"Any suggestions?"
"Yes. Perhaps, Jack Harkness?"
The newly-dubbed Jack tried it on for size by standing up straighter and putting on as bright a smile as he could muster with his current assignment so fresh on his mind. It seemed to fit quite well, in fact, and he nodded with something like approval. "Right. When do I leave?"
Jack inspected the blue cloth pants with his fingertips- jeans; they were called- before looking at the rest of his equipment. He tried to avoid looking at one piece in particular until he had to pick it up to take it with him. The death penalty was anything but common in the 51st century, but almost all of them were carried out by the Time Agency, prior to a person's crime. The government liked to contract out. Still, he didn't know what crime for which this person deserved death, he didn't even know what she looked like, though he had been told it was a she. Shame, really.
Eventually he had to look at the gun. It was small, very small, and looked similar to an Old Earth handgun. The 'bullets' were actually made from a chemical compound that dissolved upon penetration into something warm- say a body- and were a form of fast sedation from which the victim never roused again. Still, that didn't make killing anymore appealing to Jack and he was trying to ignore the gnawing guilt that already was working its way up his yet-weak stomach.
He tapped his wrist device thoughtfully. The little thing did everything but tell time, which was odd since that's what Old Earth wrist devices did. The little device was keyed in to a kind of imprint that Mr. Manger had said that the convict- a human girl tried in her absence according to Mr. Manger- Jack's victim, would have. It would work like a metal detector, beeping when it got close to her or anything bearing her signature. Everything was electronic. Everything was clinical. Everything except pulling the trigger.
Sunlight began to tint the London sky when Jack dizzily materialized in the 21st century. He looked up at the slowly lightening sky from his position on his back on an alleyway. So much for clean clothes, he thought as he sat up, shaking his head slowly and rubbing his forehead with his fingertips. After a moment of sitting on the ground, he looked around and gathered his equipment, contained in a nondescript satchel. When he stood up he tried to get his bearings, reading the signs around him to try and work out where he was- to see if he was, indeed, in London and if the Vortex Manipulator had landed him in the right time period. It looked 21st century enough...
He pressed a button along the side of his wrist "watch" and read the readout and walked ahead, watching where he was going as best he could. Which is why he was surprised when he nearly ran face first into a tall, blue box.
~~~~~
The Doctor was staring at the monitor on the TARDIS console, rubbing his red-rimmed eyes as if it would somehow help him to understand what he was reading. The problem wasn't in his understanding, though. It was just that it was impossible. For whatever reason the TARDIS was still there, yes, but she wasn't working at all. There seemed to have been some huge disturbance in the flow of time, but it didn't make any sense. Neither Rose nor Mickey had actually seen him and he'd been to London a million times before, so what was it?
~~~~~
Jack took a long moment to look the blue box up and down with a kind of instinctive reverence and fear. There was something about it that seemed so shocking that it was sitting there- but it was just a blue box. The longer he looked at it the more he had a hard time concentrating on the feeling that it shouldn't be there, some little voice in his head whispering just below the surface, "Not yet."
He almost felt himself shiver as he reached out to touch the box but then pulled his hand back and cleared his throat. He shook himself and walked around the box and went on following the signal from his watch which had slightly changed direction.
When he'd slowly walked through the unfamiliar territory, using his military training to scan for any potential threats and his personal eye to scan for any nice bars, he finally came to a point at which his watch began to beep in an erratic way for a moment. When he looked up and read the letters above the door something in his chest and in his stomach sank.
Jericho Street Comprehensive
A high school, he was sent to "eliminate" someone from a high school. But even after the reality of that sank in something else felt like it was about to get even worse...
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: T/PG-13
Status: Incomplete (but not by much)
Title: Red Bicycle
Pairings/Characters: The Doctor (Ten), young!Rose, young!Mickey, younger-Jackie, Boe!Jack; Ten/Rose, Ten/young!Rose
Spoiler Warnings: This story is AU post-Doomsday. It could take S3 into account, but it might not. I read my ficathon prompt over and over and this is the one idea that kept coming back. It is Rose pre-Doomsday, however, I do realize that it was one of the looser interpretations of my prompt. There is a very ambiguous reference to a Torchwood character (not Jack) in later chapters but you'd have to watch closely to catch it. The thing that's most important to understand about this story is that the Doctor has been through the events of Doomsday (at least) and the others have not.
Beta(s), other credit: fancy_galloway for beta-ing, jedi_of_urth for her plotting help
Summary/Public Notes: The Doctor decides to do something reckless to ease his conscience. A Time Agent is given an assignment that may change the history and future of the Universe. A teenage girl on a Council Estate in London is caught in the middle.
*[This summary could do with some work.]
**The reason for the delay is a good one: I had two important essays, a governor's school application, and a research paper I had to work on during the writing period. I also have an icon challenge that needs doing in the next week.
This story is a response to a challenge at the time_x_space Ficathon
Previous Chapter list:
Chapter One: Christmas Presents
Chapter Two: Breaking the Rules
Red Bicycle
Chapter Three: Orders from Above
The buzzing sound of the PA system crackling to life made everyone onboard the S.S. Bae Caerdydd stop and look up vaguely at the yellow-painted ceiling as if it was somehow related to their hearing the electronic voice's broadcast. Perfect soldier ants, each and every one of them, though they all laughed every time they happened to notice how well-trained they were.
"Attention all personnel. Attention all personnel," the tinny, female voice said. Then, it continued with a laugh and a vaguely affectionate lilt, "Boe. Wherever you are, stop flirting and report to the Central Office."
The Captain groaned under his breath. He was busy flirting and seemed to be doing a good job of it too. His present company was far more pleasant than anything in the Central Office could ever be.
"Duty calls," he said with a heavy exhale as he stood up, giving his new friend his most winning smile. When he'd walked almost to the exit of the mess hall he looked back with a brief regretful glance. This was one of the best jobs he could ask for but it always had managed to ruin at least half his fun.
When he got to the Central Office he pressed his thumb against a glowing pad next to the door and a line of bright, white light ran down through the field of blue, registering his thumb print and pulse. The scanner beeped and the door hissed as it slid back and Jack stepped through. Before him was a dark, mahogany coloured, wooden desk that looked ancient but ridiculously well-maintained.
"Boe," came the voice from the backward-turned office chair behind the desk, almost sounding sarcastic and biting. The way he said it was nothing like the friendly female voice over the comm. His voice sounded soft, clipped, and ingratiating and the Captain got the distinct feeling he wasn't going to like what he was about to be told.
He didn't- but a job was a job.
For a long time he stared at the paper folder that was spread open on Mr. Manger's desk and, finally, he exhaled heavily and lifted himself up by pressing on his knees.
"Further orders, sir? Do I have a cover, or just quick clean-up?"
"Avoid contact as much as possible," Mr. Manger eventually decided as he finally turned around fully in his desk-chair, tapping his fingers together thoughtfully. "Although," he added with a sly grin which at first seem directed at the file folder until he looked up, "...if asked a name perhaps you should supply one that isn't your own. The Twenty-first Century is when everything changes and you should be ready."
"Any suggestions?"
"Yes. Perhaps, Jack Harkness?"
The newly-dubbed Jack tried it on for size by standing up straighter and putting on as bright a smile as he could muster with his current assignment so fresh on his mind. It seemed to fit quite well, in fact, and he nodded with something like approval. "Right. When do I leave?"
Jack inspected the blue cloth pants with his fingertips- jeans; they were called- before looking at the rest of his equipment. He tried to avoid looking at one piece in particular until he had to pick it up to take it with him. The death penalty was anything but common in the 51st century, but almost all of them were carried out by the Time Agency, prior to a person's crime. The government liked to contract out. Still, he didn't know what crime for which this person deserved death, he didn't even know what she looked like, though he had been told it was a she. Shame, really.
Eventually he had to look at the gun. It was small, very small, and looked similar to an Old Earth handgun. The 'bullets' were actually made from a chemical compound that dissolved upon penetration into something warm- say a body- and were a form of fast sedation from which the victim never roused again. Still, that didn't make killing anymore appealing to Jack and he was trying to ignore the gnawing guilt that already was working its way up his yet-weak stomach.
He tapped his wrist device thoughtfully. The little thing did everything but tell time, which was odd since that's what Old Earth wrist devices did. The little device was keyed in to a kind of imprint that Mr. Manger had said that the convict- a human girl tried in her absence according to Mr. Manger- Jack's victim, would have. It would work like a metal detector, beeping when it got close to her or anything bearing her signature. Everything was electronic. Everything was clinical. Everything except pulling the trigger.
Sunlight began to tint the London sky when Jack dizzily materialized in the 21st century. He looked up at the slowly lightening sky from his position on his back on an alleyway. So much for clean clothes, he thought as he sat up, shaking his head slowly and rubbing his forehead with his fingertips. After a moment of sitting on the ground, he looked around and gathered his equipment, contained in a nondescript satchel. When he stood up he tried to get his bearings, reading the signs around him to try and work out where he was- to see if he was, indeed, in London and if the Vortex Manipulator had landed him in the right time period. It looked 21st century enough...
He pressed a button along the side of his wrist "watch" and read the readout and walked ahead, watching where he was going as best he could. Which is why he was surprised when he nearly ran face first into a tall, blue box.
~~~~~
The Doctor was staring at the monitor on the TARDIS console, rubbing his red-rimmed eyes as if it would somehow help him to understand what he was reading. The problem wasn't in his understanding, though. It was just that it was impossible. For whatever reason the TARDIS was still there, yes, but she wasn't working at all. There seemed to have been some huge disturbance in the flow of time, but it didn't make any sense. Neither Rose nor Mickey had actually seen him and he'd been to London a million times before, so what was it?
~~~~~
Jack took a long moment to look the blue box up and down with a kind of instinctive reverence and fear. There was something about it that seemed so shocking that it was sitting there- but it was just a blue box. The longer he looked at it the more he had a hard time concentrating on the feeling that it shouldn't be there, some little voice in his head whispering just below the surface, "Not yet."
He almost felt himself shiver as he reached out to touch the box but then pulled his hand back and cleared his throat. He shook himself and walked around the box and went on following the signal from his watch which had slightly changed direction.
When he'd slowly walked through the unfamiliar territory, using his military training to scan for any potential threats and his personal eye to scan for any nice bars, he finally came to a point at which his watch began to beep in an erratic way for a moment. When he looked up and read the letters above the door something in his chest and in his stomach sank.
Jericho Street Comprehensive
A high school, he was sent to "eliminate" someone from a high school. But even after the reality of that sank in something else felt like it was about to get even worse...