Fic: Foot-Soldiers (1/1)
Title: Foot-Soldiers
Author: Gillian Taylor
Character/Pairing: Martha Jones, Brigadier Sir Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart, Donna Noble, Sarah Jane Smith, Mickey Smith, Gwen Cooper
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Children of Earth (Pts 1-5)
Summary: They also serve who only stand and wait - John Milton
Disclaimer: Don't own them. I just like playing with them...a lot.
A/N: What's the other side of the story, from those who were left on the sidelines? This is their story. CoE has apparently given my muse a real boost :) Thanks, as always, to my brilliant and, as always, awesome beta wendymr. She's the one who gave me both the title and the quote from Milton.
"Foot-Soldiers"
by Gillian Taylor
They also serve who only stand and wait.
- John Milton
The first time Martha hears a group of children speak in English - in unison, even - she thinks she's going mad. At least, she would if it weren't for Tom's hand tightening upon hers in reaction. Children here in the Greek isles should be speaking Greek. Not English.
"We. Are. Coming," the children tell her, tell them, and it's terrifying.
Who, what, would use children like that? They're children. Innocent children. And no-one - no alien or human or whatever - has the right to use them like this. Like they're nothing more than mouthpieces.
When they return to their hotel room, Tom turns on the radio and tunes it to the nearest English radio station.
"All the children of the world stopped. Just stopped. And said 'We are coming'," the voice crackles through the radio and, though the announcer is careful, she can hear the fear behind the announcer's words.
She entwines her fingers with Tom's and stares at the radio. There is no television here. There isn't even a telephone. Only a radio. She's never felt more out of touch with the rest of the world.
It takes her a moment to remember that there's someone out there who can help. Someone who should be called, notified about this as soon as possible. Whoever is speaking through the children can't be a friendly power. They need the Doctor.
She drops Tom's hand, tugging herself free, and practically flings herself towards her purse. Where is it? Where's her bloody- There!
Martha pulls the mobile free from the confines of her purse and turns it on.
Her hopes die in an instant when she reads the words displayed prominently on the screen:
'No Service.'
She can't call the Doctor. She can't even call UNIT or Torchwood. Not today at least.
"Tom..." she says.
He's beside her in an instant, wrapping his arms around her. "What is it, love?"
"I can't call anyone. I can't help."
"There's always tomorrow," he says. And though it should be comforting, it is anything but.
Tomorrow they'll be back on the mainland. Access to telephone service and mobile service should be easy. Simple, even.
The next day, they're in Athens and she finds that even here her luck doesn't hold out. She can't call using her mobile, it's still reading 'no service'. And when she tries to use a normal land line, she finds that her call won't go through.
She can't reach the Doctor.
"We. Are. Coming. Tomorrow," the children announce and she shivers.
When she tries to call UNIT, she finds all calls have been blocked. When she tries the Torchwood team, she only gets voice mail.
"C'mon, Martha. We can't do anything about this," Tom says, ever reasonably.
It hurts to admit that he's right. She's nothing more than a bystander and that's what hurts the most.
He may be old, but he'll be damned if they can do this without him. "Don't give me Official Secrets Act!" he bellows into the telephone receiver. "I've been a signatory of that Act since before you were born. Now tell me what the hell is going on!"
The response is apologetic, saying all the right things, but that doesn't matter. He knows when he's being stonewalled. "Get me Colonel Oduya," he snaps.
"I'm sorry, sir, but the Colonel is in a closed meeting. I will provide him your contact details and he'll return your call when he has the opportunity," the UNIT officer - a Lieutenant Richards - says.
"Damnit, man, do you know who I am? I'm trying to help!" he exclaims.
"Yes, Sir Alistair, we are aware of who you are. Your services are not required."
"Then at least tell me someone has the wherewithal to actually try to contact the Doctor?" he asks.
"I'm sorry, Brigadier. That information is need to know," the Lieutenant says.
"Get me your superior officer, then!" he growls into the phone.
"I can't do that, sir."
He snarls and slams the phone down, disconnecting the call. There's got to be something he can do. He lifts his head and looks out the window. His grandson spots him and waves cheerily at him. He has to force himself to wave back.
Is he supposed to be a mere bystander when someone, when something, threatens his grandchildren? He won't stand for it. He can't stand for it.
"Doris!" he bellows. "I'm going into London. See if I can talk some sense into those blokes at UNIT."
His wife comes into the room, wiping her hands on a towel. When she's scared, she cleans. The house has never been more spotless. There's got to be something he can do to stop this. "Alistair, we need you here."
"You'll be-" he begins.
"No, Alistair. We need you here. What do we do if it happens again? You were trying to talk to your UNIT friends, weren't you? And they didn't tell you anything?"
It rankles, actually. He was the Brigadier. In charge of UNIT for the longest time. And now he's not being told what's going on. "Yes."
"What makes you think being there will help?" Doris asks.
"I can't stand on the sidelines when-"
"What if that's all you can do?" Doris interrupts him.
He has no response to that.
"I don't know what you're on about," Donna says, shaking her head at the others in the pub. It's ridiculous, really. Children stopping and starting to speak in unison? Someone's been watching a little too many horror films.
"Haven't you been watching the telly?" Nerys asks.
"When would I do that?" she retorts. "All lies, anyway. Everyone knows that."
"Saw it myself, Donna," Rhiannon says. She's always been a bit of a floozy, that one. She'd flip her skirt up for anyone if she thought it'd get her somewhere. She's probably just trying to attract Curtis. That bloke's been drooling over her ever since she started working at the office.
"Sure you did," she says. Definitely trying to get Curtis to notice her. "And where was that?"
"Coming into work this morning," Rhiannon replies. "There were these children, just stopped in the middle of the street. And they started talking at the same time. Said the same thing. Talking about 'we are coming' or something like that. You know what I think? I think it's aliens."
This is giving her a headache. She pinches her nose and tries to breathe through her mouth, hoping that the burning pain would dissipate. "And you know all about that, do you?"
"Listen here, Donna Noble. Just because you slept through the last time aliens came here, it doesn't mean you can just dismiss me like that," Rhiannon replies.
Before it can get any worse, Nerys is there, grabbing her arm. "Just watch the news tonight, yeah? See what you think?"
She sighs. She was looking forward to a bit of a fight, but she relents all the same. She needs this job. Last thing she needs is to get dismissed for beating up an idiot like Rhiannon. "Fine."
That night, she watches the news, but has to stop about half-way through. Her head is hurting terribly.
When she finally drifts off to sleep, there's a word on her lips. "Doctor."
She doesn't remember that come morning.
"I am sorry, Sarah Jane. I cannot locate the source of the signal." Mr Smith sounds as apologetic as he can be.
"There must be something we can do," she says, pacing around the attic. Children speaking in unison. Warning that something's here. Today. Pointing towards London centre.
She's all that's left. She can't trust UNIT to take care of this. And Torchwood's Hub has been destroyed. She doesn't know where Jack, Gwen and Ianto are. Dead, most likely. Not that that sort of thing sticks when it comes to Jack.
She shakes her head. She's got to think. What would the Doctor do?
The Doctor! Of all the daft - "Can you contact the TARDIS? Martha gave us the Doctor's number..."
The number appears on the screen, but the call doesn't go through. "The signal appears to be blocked, Sarah Jane."
No! Of all the times for the Doctor to be unreachable. Fine. She'll have to sort this herself. "See if you can get access to the government's files on this situation. Maybe there's something they know that we don't."
"It will take a while, Sarah Jane," Mr Smith replies.
"Call me when you're finished," she says and tries to distract herself with more mundane problems. Another Dalek invasion, perhaps. Or a plugged drain.
Mr Smith contacts her when the moon is high in the sky. Sleep is the farthest thing from her mind when she returns to the attic. The results are displayed on the screen and she stares at it in shock.
"No," she says quietly after she's finished reading.
"Mum? Are you all right?" Luke asks as he steps into the attic. She must've disturbed his slumber, but she can't apologise for that. She needs him right now. Needs him badly.
She moves to him immediately, drawing him to her, holding on for all her might. "No, no I'm not. You're not going to school tomorrow. Not you, not Clyde, and not Rani. You hear me? You can't leave."
"Mum? What's going on?"
She's said it before, and they made it. Maybe they will again. But she doubts it. No Doctor. No Torchwood. Just a tired old woman with a super computer. She doesn't know how to stop this. She can't walk into Thames House. She can't even demand to see the Prime Minister. She can't call UNIT, because UNIT is a part of this.
She spares a moment to despise what UNIT has become, but that's not what's important right now.
What's important is this. Her son in her arms. Safe. As safe as she can make him. "It's the end of the world," she says.
What was it that Jack was always on about?
Oh, right. 21st Century. It's when everything changes.
And everything changes today.
"Don't give me that, mate," Mickey snarls, standing up to the soldiers who are swarming the school grounds. "You don't have any right. This isn't an inoculation. Where are you taking them?"
"The World Health Organization has a field office in the next village over. We're taking them there," the soldier says.
"Liar," he retorts.
The soldier doesn't react. Instead, he returns to imitating a statue. Just like he found him before.
That's it. He's got to do something about this.
He signals his friends and they move down the street, away from the soldiers and the departing school buses. "We've got to follow them, yeah? See where they go. We'll broadcast it. Digital 141. Nancy, go back to the base. We'll send you the video from wherever we end up."
His friends, his team, agree and off they go. They're not the Torchwood he left. They're not the Preachers, either. But maybe, just maybe, they can make a difference.
Tell the world what's going on. Let them decide what to do. That's all they can do. It'll start rioting in the streets. People will probably die in conflicts with soldiers. But what else can they do?
Give up their children to who knows what?
He might not be able to stop this but, god help him, he's going to at least spread the news.
That's all he can do.
It's over.
Those are two words Gwen never thought she'd be able to say. Not after all of this. Not after the world just about ended today. Normally, she'd think it was brilliant and be all for celebrating, but what for?
Ianto's dead. Jack's as good as. She knows that much, at least. He must've done something to save the world. But knowing how helpless they were, how much their bluffs and their strategies didn't work, she knows it wasn't anything good.
So many people. So many people lost their lives because of them. Torchwood. Bloody Torchwood thinking they knew just what they could do to save the world. Well, they were wrong. So damned wrong.
Now she's here. With Rhys, yes, and alive and pregnant. She doesn't really haven't anything to show for what she's done over the past several years. She's got some great savings, yeah, but that won't last. Not with a baby coming.
She doesn't know what she's going to do.
"What happens now?" she asks, unaware that she was going to ask the question until she does.
"We try to move on," Rhys replies. "Got someone else to be thinking about now, don't we?" His hand brushes over her stomach and she smiles.
"Yeah," she agrees, leaning against him. "We do."
Maybe there's hope for them after all. The government is shameful - she'll never vote for anyone who is currently in office again. But people, individual people, are all right.
She rests her hand on her stomach and pretends she can feel the stirring of movement inside. After all the evils of the past five days, after losing Ianto, and almost losing 10% of the children on Earth, there is something that's left. Pandora was right.
That's a good name, she decides.
If she has a daughter, she'll name her Hope.
If it's a son, he'll be named Ianto.
Jack would like that, she thinks. She hopes she gets the chance to tell him.
END
x-posted to: dark_aegis, torch_wood, dwfiction
Author: Gillian Taylor
Character/Pairing: Martha Jones, Brigadier Sir Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart, Donna Noble, Sarah Jane Smith, Mickey Smith, Gwen Cooper
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Children of Earth (Pts 1-5)
Summary: They also serve who only stand and wait - John Milton
Disclaimer: Don't own them. I just like playing with them...a lot.
A/N: What's the other side of the story, from those who were left on the sidelines? This is their story. CoE has apparently given my muse a real boost :) Thanks, as always, to my brilliant and, as always, awesome beta wendymr. She's the one who gave me both the title and the quote from Milton.
"Foot-Soldiers"
by Gillian Taylor
They also serve who only stand and wait.
- John Milton
The first time Martha hears a group of children speak in English - in unison, even - she thinks she's going mad. At least, she would if it weren't for Tom's hand tightening upon hers in reaction. Children here in the Greek isles should be speaking Greek. Not English.
"We. Are. Coming," the children tell her, tell them, and it's terrifying.
Who, what, would use children like that? They're children. Innocent children. And no-one - no alien or human or whatever - has the right to use them like this. Like they're nothing more than mouthpieces.
When they return to their hotel room, Tom turns on the radio and tunes it to the nearest English radio station.
"All the children of the world stopped. Just stopped. And said 'We are coming'," the voice crackles through the radio and, though the announcer is careful, she can hear the fear behind the announcer's words.
She entwines her fingers with Tom's and stares at the radio. There is no television here. There isn't even a telephone. Only a radio. She's never felt more out of touch with the rest of the world.
It takes her a moment to remember that there's someone out there who can help. Someone who should be called, notified about this as soon as possible. Whoever is speaking through the children can't be a friendly power. They need the Doctor.
She drops Tom's hand, tugging herself free, and practically flings herself towards her purse. Where is it? Where's her bloody- There!
Martha pulls the mobile free from the confines of her purse and turns it on.
Her hopes die in an instant when she reads the words displayed prominently on the screen:
'No Service.'
She can't call the Doctor. She can't even call UNIT or Torchwood. Not today at least.
"Tom..." she says.
He's beside her in an instant, wrapping his arms around her. "What is it, love?"
"I can't call anyone. I can't help."
"There's always tomorrow," he says. And though it should be comforting, it is anything but.
Tomorrow they'll be back on the mainland. Access to telephone service and mobile service should be easy. Simple, even.
The next day, they're in Athens and she finds that even here her luck doesn't hold out. She can't call using her mobile, it's still reading 'no service'. And when she tries to use a normal land line, she finds that her call won't go through.
She can't reach the Doctor.
"We. Are. Coming. Tomorrow," the children announce and she shivers.
When she tries to call UNIT, she finds all calls have been blocked. When she tries the Torchwood team, she only gets voice mail.
"C'mon, Martha. We can't do anything about this," Tom says, ever reasonably.
It hurts to admit that he's right. She's nothing more than a bystander and that's what hurts the most.
He may be old, but he'll be damned if they can do this without him. "Don't give me Official Secrets Act!" he bellows into the telephone receiver. "I've been a signatory of that Act since before you were born. Now tell me what the hell is going on!"
The response is apologetic, saying all the right things, but that doesn't matter. He knows when he's being stonewalled. "Get me Colonel Oduya," he snaps.
"I'm sorry, sir, but the Colonel is in a closed meeting. I will provide him your contact details and he'll return your call when he has the opportunity," the UNIT officer - a Lieutenant Richards - says.
"Damnit, man, do you know who I am? I'm trying to help!" he exclaims.
"Yes, Sir Alistair, we are aware of who you are. Your services are not required."
"Then at least tell me someone has the wherewithal to actually try to contact the Doctor?" he asks.
"I'm sorry, Brigadier. That information is need to know," the Lieutenant says.
"Get me your superior officer, then!" he growls into the phone.
"I can't do that, sir."
He snarls and slams the phone down, disconnecting the call. There's got to be something he can do. He lifts his head and looks out the window. His grandson spots him and waves cheerily at him. He has to force himself to wave back.
Is he supposed to be a mere bystander when someone, when something, threatens his grandchildren? He won't stand for it. He can't stand for it.
"Doris!" he bellows. "I'm going into London. See if I can talk some sense into those blokes at UNIT."
His wife comes into the room, wiping her hands on a towel. When she's scared, she cleans. The house has never been more spotless. There's got to be something he can do to stop this. "Alistair, we need you here."
"You'll be-" he begins.
"No, Alistair. We need you here. What do we do if it happens again? You were trying to talk to your UNIT friends, weren't you? And they didn't tell you anything?"
It rankles, actually. He was the Brigadier. In charge of UNIT for the longest time. And now he's not being told what's going on. "Yes."
"What makes you think being there will help?" Doris asks.
"I can't stand on the sidelines when-"
"What if that's all you can do?" Doris interrupts him.
He has no response to that.
"I don't know what you're on about," Donna says, shaking her head at the others in the pub. It's ridiculous, really. Children stopping and starting to speak in unison? Someone's been watching a little too many horror films.
"Haven't you been watching the telly?" Nerys asks.
"When would I do that?" she retorts. "All lies, anyway. Everyone knows that."
"Saw it myself, Donna," Rhiannon says. She's always been a bit of a floozy, that one. She'd flip her skirt up for anyone if she thought it'd get her somewhere. She's probably just trying to attract Curtis. That bloke's been drooling over her ever since she started working at the office.
"Sure you did," she says. Definitely trying to get Curtis to notice her. "And where was that?"
"Coming into work this morning," Rhiannon replies. "There were these children, just stopped in the middle of the street. And they started talking at the same time. Said the same thing. Talking about 'we are coming' or something like that. You know what I think? I think it's aliens."
This is giving her a headache. She pinches her nose and tries to breathe through her mouth, hoping that the burning pain would dissipate. "And you know all about that, do you?"
"Listen here, Donna Noble. Just because you slept through the last time aliens came here, it doesn't mean you can just dismiss me like that," Rhiannon replies.
Before it can get any worse, Nerys is there, grabbing her arm. "Just watch the news tonight, yeah? See what you think?"
She sighs. She was looking forward to a bit of a fight, but she relents all the same. She needs this job. Last thing she needs is to get dismissed for beating up an idiot like Rhiannon. "Fine."
That night, she watches the news, but has to stop about half-way through. Her head is hurting terribly.
When she finally drifts off to sleep, there's a word on her lips. "Doctor."
She doesn't remember that come morning.
"I am sorry, Sarah Jane. I cannot locate the source of the signal." Mr Smith sounds as apologetic as he can be.
"There must be something we can do," she says, pacing around the attic. Children speaking in unison. Warning that something's here. Today. Pointing towards London centre.
She's all that's left. She can't trust UNIT to take care of this. And Torchwood's Hub has been destroyed. She doesn't know where Jack, Gwen and Ianto are. Dead, most likely. Not that that sort of thing sticks when it comes to Jack.
She shakes her head. She's got to think. What would the Doctor do?
The Doctor! Of all the daft - "Can you contact the TARDIS? Martha gave us the Doctor's number..."
The number appears on the screen, but the call doesn't go through. "The signal appears to be blocked, Sarah Jane."
No! Of all the times for the Doctor to be unreachable. Fine. She'll have to sort this herself. "See if you can get access to the government's files on this situation. Maybe there's something they know that we don't."
"It will take a while, Sarah Jane," Mr Smith replies.
"Call me when you're finished," she says and tries to distract herself with more mundane problems. Another Dalek invasion, perhaps. Or a plugged drain.
Mr Smith contacts her when the moon is high in the sky. Sleep is the farthest thing from her mind when she returns to the attic. The results are displayed on the screen and she stares at it in shock.
"No," she says quietly after she's finished reading.
"Mum? Are you all right?" Luke asks as he steps into the attic. She must've disturbed his slumber, but she can't apologise for that. She needs him right now. Needs him badly.
She moves to him immediately, drawing him to her, holding on for all her might. "No, no I'm not. You're not going to school tomorrow. Not you, not Clyde, and not Rani. You hear me? You can't leave."
"Mum? What's going on?"
She's said it before, and they made it. Maybe they will again. But she doubts it. No Doctor. No Torchwood. Just a tired old woman with a super computer. She doesn't know how to stop this. She can't walk into Thames House. She can't even demand to see the Prime Minister. She can't call UNIT, because UNIT is a part of this.
She spares a moment to despise what UNIT has become, but that's not what's important right now.
What's important is this. Her son in her arms. Safe. As safe as she can make him. "It's the end of the world," she says.
What was it that Jack was always on about?
Oh, right. 21st Century. It's when everything changes.
And everything changes today.
"Don't give me that, mate," Mickey snarls, standing up to the soldiers who are swarming the school grounds. "You don't have any right. This isn't an inoculation. Where are you taking them?"
"The World Health Organization has a field office in the next village over. We're taking them there," the soldier says.
"Liar," he retorts.
The soldier doesn't react. Instead, he returns to imitating a statue. Just like he found him before.
That's it. He's got to do something about this.
He signals his friends and they move down the street, away from the soldiers and the departing school buses. "We've got to follow them, yeah? See where they go. We'll broadcast it. Digital 141. Nancy, go back to the base. We'll send you the video from wherever we end up."
His friends, his team, agree and off they go. They're not the Torchwood he left. They're not the Preachers, either. But maybe, just maybe, they can make a difference.
Tell the world what's going on. Let them decide what to do. That's all they can do. It'll start rioting in the streets. People will probably die in conflicts with soldiers. But what else can they do?
Give up their children to who knows what?
He might not be able to stop this but, god help him, he's going to at least spread the news.
That's all he can do.
It's over.
Those are two words Gwen never thought she'd be able to say. Not after all of this. Not after the world just about ended today. Normally, she'd think it was brilliant and be all for celebrating, but what for?
Ianto's dead. Jack's as good as. She knows that much, at least. He must've done something to save the world. But knowing how helpless they were, how much their bluffs and their strategies didn't work, she knows it wasn't anything good.
So many people. So many people lost their lives because of them. Torchwood. Bloody Torchwood thinking they knew just what they could do to save the world. Well, they were wrong. So damned wrong.
Now she's here. With Rhys, yes, and alive and pregnant. She doesn't really haven't anything to show for what she's done over the past several years. She's got some great savings, yeah, but that won't last. Not with a baby coming.
She doesn't know what she's going to do.
"What happens now?" she asks, unaware that she was going to ask the question until she does.
"We try to move on," Rhys replies. "Got someone else to be thinking about now, don't we?" His hand brushes over her stomach and she smiles.
"Yeah," she agrees, leaning against him. "We do."
Maybe there's hope for them after all. The government is shameful - she'll never vote for anyone who is currently in office again. But people, individual people, are all right.
She rests her hand on her stomach and pretends she can feel the stirring of movement inside. After all the evils of the past five days, after losing Ianto, and almost losing 10% of the children on Earth, there is something that's left. Pandora was right.
That's a good name, she decides.
If she has a daughter, she'll name her Hope.
If it's a son, he'll be named Ianto.
Jack would like that, she thinks. She hopes she gets the chance to tell him.
END
x-posted to: dark_aegis, torch_wood, dwfiction