Fic - Viva La Resistance.
As this is community is for my various artworks, I thought this would be the best place to post my first fic, so I can keep track of comments. Sorry if you're just here for my icons and graphics, this won't be a terribly regular occurance.
Title: Viva La Resistance.
Author: LondonBeauty.
Characters: Martha Jones.
Rating: PG (mild language)
Spoilers: The Sound of Drums, Last of the Time Lords.
Disclaimer: I do not in anyway own Martha Jones, the Jones family, The Doctor, Captain Jack or The Master. The rest are my creations (unless there's one Doctor Who character I've forgotten).
Summary: Martha Jones finds her mission to spread The Doctor's word isn't going to be as lonely as she thought.
Author's notes: Thank you so much to persiflage_1 for being such an encouraging beta. Without her this fic may never have been written. Thank you as well to nightbeast, for her helpful suggestions to this newbie.
This story is compiled of three fics I wrote for the telling_a_story ficathon. It follows three days of Martha Jones' year long journey across the Earth, as mentioned in Last of the Time Lords.
16th July
Two days they've been driving through the countryside. Two days and barely a soul to be seen. She prays it's because everyone's hiding, keeping themselves as inconspicuous as possible, so as not to draw attention to themselves, for in this current climate that can only lead to trouble. You don't know who to trust. The Master's henchmen are easy enough to spot, modesty is hardly one of his prevailing traits so he's made sure they are dressed as commando and intimidating as possible. No, the ones you need to be wary of, are ordinary, but desperate citizens. They won't sell their neighbour out of spite or greed, but out of a deep rooted fear they can feel in their bones, if they comply with The Master's wishes he may show mercy for when his 'Judgement Day' arrives. It doesn't bear thinking about what that could even entail, when you look at how things currently are. Vast areas of land either scorched or commandeered, the military, or His military, now control a great deal of the distribution of food. It's thanks to many local, independent farmers that food is still being transported to out of the way towns and villages.
It's one of these farmers that Martha Jones is travelling with now. Her French has become very rusty since her school days, and he speaks no English, but eventually through faltered conversations and a form of pidgin sign-language they came to an understanding, where he will drive her on his route, and she will keep him company and help him deliver some of his stock. This has been a good way of reaching the very few people she could. She would sit out of sight, with the help of the perception filter key around her neck, and wait for the farmer to give her the nod. He seems to understand how wary Martha was of people, on his travels he must have seen the treachery blight the already danger fraught landscape.
Martha had been dropping off to sleep, but was quick to snap back to her usual state of alertness with the sound of a door slamming. They've stopped, and the farmer is unloading some goods from the back of the truck. After groggily stretching her arms and loosening a crick in her neck, her hand instinctively shoots up to the key around her neck. It's still there, of course, but she needs to feel it, it's a comfort as well as a connection to what was the tail end of a much more innocent time. Of course the time she'd spent travelling with The Doctor she had seen some disturbing things and been through the emotional gamut, but this ... this was something far beyond any of that. This wasn't just her life in jeopardy, or his. As arrogant as it may sound, she always felt that they could both look after themselves when push came to shove, that they could take responsibility for themselves. But seeing her family being manhandled by those damn henchmen, and the fear in her mother's eyes. That's what it always came back to. Martha often recalled everything that had happened the last couple of months, but the thing that haunted her the most was the look in her mother's eyes; the fear, the guilt, the hopelessness. She'd never seen that in her mother before, and it unnerved her. Through everything the family had been through, her mother always maintained control, even if she was furious, depressed or rejected, she always seemed to have direction and purpose. To see her looking so helpless was a jolt to the system. It's that look which keeps Martha going, that keeps the fight burning in her, and she needs that fight. Because despite being fully aware of the vitalness of her mission, there are many days she longs to take the perception filter and hide, away from the bodies, the rubble, the constant climate of foreboding.
Touching the key, feeling the warm metal always grounded her, brought her back to reality. It also served her very practically too, walking into abandoned shops to get food and other supplies, finding shelter to sleep, and surveying camps and groups of people to gauge the mood, to guess if they would be open to her and her words. She would need to do all this again at this new place. She opens the car door cautiously, and slides out the high seat, relishing the feel of gravel under her shoes after driving for hours. She takes a few steps to stretch her legs, and breathes in the fresh night air. She looks at her watch and sees it's 1am local time, which must now mean it's the 16th of July. It's hard to keep up with the dates now, but she knows she must, it is vital she keeps the final date at the forefront of her mind, not only to keep her moving, but to tell the others, everyone she possibly can of The Doctor's plan.
As Martha is walking in circles, trying to get the circulation moving in her legs again, a she hears the farmer talking, a second later a young woman responds. Whatever they're talking about, there's an almost frenetic tone to her voice. Whatever's going on, Martha feels suddenly exposed standing in the middle of the road. She moves to get back into the car, but the farmer sees her and beckons her over. He's gotten better at spotting her now when she's wearing the perception filter, after all, it doesn't actually turn one invisible, but rather a combination of innocuous and unobtrusive, when somebody wants to see you, they most likely will with enough concentration. He seems at ease, and as she inches forward she can see that the look on the young woman's face isn't fear or agitation as she first assumed. Her eyes are wide, and keep glancing over Martha, she's clearly excited in an almost childlike way, impatiently trying to catch a glance of her.
Exhaling slowly, Martha reaches up to the thread holding the key around her neck, and slowly removes it. At once the woman's eyes meet hers, and with a gasp she bounces over to Martha, embracing her like a long lost sister. She can't help but laugh, of all the reactions to her she's had over the weeks, this hasn't been one of them. To see joy, to have human contact like this after so long almost feels overwhelming. Martha began to realise how she'd subconsciously been emotionally detaching herself from everyone she'd come in contact with during her journey, and she also realised why. Forming bonds with people during this mission would not be a good idea, not when she needs to be constantly on the move, not when absolutely anybody could be lost to her in the blink of an eye. Any relationships she formed would surely put the other person on The Master's radar, and potentially lead to their capture, their torture, their demise. That's virtually what's already happened to just about everyone she ever truly loved, everyone bar her brother. Held captive, in God knows what conditions, if they're still alive even... The surge in her stomach nearly threw her off balance, so many emotions rushing through her blood, thoughts, memories, feeling all bombarding her at once. She pulled away sharply, but forced a smile to placate the woman, it's hard enough as it is finding allies, she doesn't want to start alienating the few people who show her good will from the start. Holding Martha by the shoulder at arms' length, she slowly looks her up and down.
"It's true, it's actually...YOU'RE actually her. Martha Jones!"
"Uh yeah, hi, pleased to meet you." This is very awkward, what do you say to a stranger who not only already knows who you are but is acting like the sun shines out of your backside. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."
"No, of course, sorry! I'm Vanessa, a friend of Bernard's. I can't tell you what an honour it is!" To Martha's embarrassment, it took her a couple of seconds to realise that Bernard is actually the farmer's name, the man currently standing beside them, beaming proudly at the scene he helped create. "Look at you, you're exhausted and you must be starving. Please, come in, make yourself comfortable, it must be a long time since you have been, comfortable I mean."
"Yes, thank you. Vanessa was it?" Vanessa nods. "Sorry, I'm just so tired. By the way, you speak very good English if you don't mind me saying."
"Not at all, thank you. I am...was studying the language, well several actually, I was hoping to eventually become a translator, at the U.N. maybe. 'Though considering how much of that still exists, I don't know, it's all such a mess."
"You're telling me! So what do you know at the moment?" Martha follows Vanessa through the door way, trying to navigate though piles of paper stacked all over the floor, whilst trying to hang on to every word. In her excitement, Vanessa's talking nineteen to the dozen causing her to trip up over her words.
"Well, that's a whole other story. One we will let you in on I promise. But after you get some food in you! Look at you, you're wasting away, your clothes are hanging off you, what's even left of them. What have you been through?"
"Well... That's a whole other story. One I will tell you when I've had some of that food you promised!" With a chuckle Martha plonks down on the chair offered to her. She's sitting at a dining table littered with more papers and folders, with a view through a serving hatch into the kitchen, through which a pair of eyes are staring back at her agog. "Umm, hello, bonjour, uh, je suis Martha, do you speak English?" A young man hurries into the room, shooting a disbelieving look at Vanessa. After a brief exchange in French, he grabs Martha's hand, shaking it enthusiastically.
"Martha Jones! But how? How can you be here?"
"I'm starting to feel like quite the celebrity! Your friend, Bernard" Martha emphasised the name and gave a nod to the farmer, hoping it would cover up her ignorance of his name until a few minutes ago, "he picked me up just outside Bourges, he kindly agreed to help me on my, er ... travels. Oh thank you." Vanessa had just placed a mug of coffee in front of her. The smell is almost intoxicating, it's been so long since Martha had indulged her five cups a day habit. She had pretty much gone cold turkey from the first time she stepped into the TARDIS, for all its technological marvels, the ship was sadly lacking in a cafetiere. Martha smiles wryly to herself, it's been a while since she's been able to indulge herself in frivolousness for a while. But even as she's thinking this, another darker thought idea her mind. "This is going to sound like a funny question, and I hope you don't think I'm taking a liberty asking, you've been so kind already.."
"Oh not at all" Vanessa interrupts, "Anything we can help you with, anything at all, it's why we're here!" Martha thought that was an odd if not sweet way of putting it, she returns the sentiment with a gracious smile.
"That coffee, it's fresh, yes?" Vanessa nods. "Would you mind.." Martha hesitates, she knows what a bizarre questions she's about to ask. "Would you mind letting me have, say, a handful of your coffee beans please?" Vanessa gives a chuckle.
"That is hardly asking for the World now is it? Of course you may have some, would you perhaps like a flask too, to make it in?"
"Thank you, but that's not really why I ask. To be honest, it occurred to me on more than one occasion when I've been travelling, I needed something, anything to..." Martha stops, she can feel the bile rising at the sickening memories.
"I think I understand" the young man interjects. "Coffee beans are sometimes good at, uh how do you say it? Cleansing the palate, but uh, with smell yes?" Martha looks down and nods. There were times the last few weeks when Martha would have wished away her sense of smell in a heartbeat. The overflowing sewers and the scorched landscape were deeply unpleasant, but the most excruciating smell was the bodies, the corpses of humans, often strewn on the roads like discarded trash. Martha gives a quick shake of her head, bringing herself back into the present. She's all too aware now of the awkward silence that has descended on the room.
"Of course, I'll get you some now, as I sort out your food" Vanessa says, and moves back into the kitchen.
"Thank you" Martha shouts after her, "I know it's so late, I really do appreciate this." Martha looks to the young man, "I'm sorry, did you tell me your name?"
"No, I'm sorry, how rude of me! My name is Christophe, I am Vanessa's fiancé, I work here too."
"Work here?" What work could they possibly being doing at a time like this? Martha quirks her head to try and read the paper on top of the nearest pile to her, but before she can start getting her head around the French, Vanessa is back with her food. All other business can wait, nothing's going to get in-between Martha and this ham sandwich!
After eating, and having a brief, but incredibly satisfying shower, Martha makes her way downstairs. She had been distracted by these welcome home comforts, but now she was curious, what did Christophe mean when he said he 'worked' in this house? What work could he be doing now that wasn't manual labour, shop work, or working directly for The Master? The last option panicked her. Of course it occurred to her that this could be a trap, but her instinct told her it wasn't, travelling with Bernard she saw the good he was doing, the sincerity of his actions. He wouldn't suddenly turn on her like this. They may not have been able to speak much, but Martha could see how much he hated The Master and his henchmen. She'd picked up a few choice French swear words from him when they would drive through the occasional road blocks set up to try and regulate and monitor any trade going on. Bernard knew enough back roads to avoid them, but when his truck was empty the main roads were just the quickest way to go. It frightened Martha how much The Master already had under his control, he'd achieved an all encompassing dictatorship of the planet in a matter of days. Martha dared not begin to imagine what atrocities he would commit throughout the year, or how much more power he could possibly gain.
Martha walked into the cluttered little room where she had eaten her dinner. Bernard was snoozing on a sofa, whilst Vanessa and Christophe had a whispered conversation at the table. They both sprang to their feet when Martha came into view.
"Thank you so much for letting me use the shower, and lending me the clothes, are you sure you don't mind?"
"No no, really, I have more clothes than I have any use for now, please help yourself to anymore you need." Vanessa walks over to Martha and gives her a quick hug. "You may have guessed by now, but there are a few things we need to discuss with you."
"Yeah, about that, I've been meaning to ask. What did Christophe mean when he said he worked here?"
"Well, precisely that, this is where we do our work."
"Which is?"
"I'm getting to that, but perhaps it will be easier to show you. Please, follow me." Vanessa makes her way through the mess and opens a door on the other side of the room. Martha follows, passing Bernard who is still contentedly dozing, emitting the occasional snore. As she approaches, she sees that a flight of stairs leads down from the door. Vanessa reaches around blindly for a couple of seconds, before her hand finds the light switch. Walking down the stairs, with her hands on the stone wall either side for balance, Martha sees that there's already a light on downstairs, accompanied by a faint clicking. As they descend further, Martha recognises the sounds as fingers typing on a keyboard. They reach the bottom, and Vanessa calls out.
"Adrian!" Martha takes a few steps further and can now see around the corner. A man, about Vanessa and Christophe's age, is sitting by a computer, the light from the screen along with the poor lighting exaggerating the dark circles around his eyes. He looks almost as tired as she feels. Adrian looks up at her and gives a nod, and continues to work. It's not quite the reception she got from the other two. Martha looks around the room, there are five desks, each with a computer. The walls and floors were covered with wires and cables, more than were needed by any computer Martha had ever used. Vanessa grabs a couple of chairs and drags them over to where Adrian is working, and motions for Martha to come and sit. She gives Adrian a nudge, which he takes as his cue to stop what he's doing and start up something that Martha guessed had been set up whilst she was freshening up. As Martha takes a seat, a new window opens on the computer screen. She lets out a sharp gasp, for staring back at her from the screen is her own face, it looks like it's been taken from some CCTV footage. Below in bold red letters are the words:
MARTHA JONES.
WANTED - FOR ACTS OF INDISCRIMINATE TERRORISM AND GROSS TREASON.
SHE SHOULD BE TREATED AS HIGHLY DANGEROUS, MENTALLY UNSTABLE AND MOST LIKELY ARMED.
REWARD FOR CAPTURE - £2,000,000 (US $4,000,000) AND GUARANTEED SAFE PASSAGE AT THE FINAL JUDGEMENT.
SHE MUST BE CAPTURED ALIVE AND CONSCIOUS, OTHERWISE PHYSICAL WELL-BEING UNIMPORTANT.
"What is this?"
"This is what The Master has sent to every one of his workers. He also has a plan in action to post this through every door, and plaster this on every street corner. You must have really pissed this guy off!" Vanessa lets out a chuckle. How could she be laughing when she's apparently playing hostess to public enemy number one?
"I don't understand, this is how you know who I am?"
"You don't have to look so worried, honestly, it's ok. We should tell you a bit about ourselves, it's only fair seeing as we already know you."
"But that, that's not me, those things it's saying...."
"Relax, we know it's crap if it's coming from The Master. My enemy's enemy is my friend, and that's what he is. He is the enemy of humankind, of all that is decent and good, a monster. Nothing I say does him justice, but I don't have to do I? You know. We are only a few, there's us three, and of course Bernard. We have our friends who are scattered throughout France and Europe. They report back to us on what's happening, I mean what's really happening, not the propaganda they are feeding us on those sham news channels. We help get the real news out there, we're trying to educate people on truth of The Master's barbarous acts, what will happen if you inform on your neighbour, debunk the myths he has created around himself. You and I know what's happening out there, but people all over are slowly being brainwashed into disbelieving what their own eyes show them. But we are so few, and it's proving near impossible to spread the word. Not only finding who to trust, to pass on the address of our site, but getting across to people who have limited electricity and no computer access. We have started our own pirate radio station, but as with our website, we have to keep moving addresses and frequency, to avoid detection. We create a mock-up paper, for people to print out and pass on, but it's getting harder to find the paper and ink, in many places it's being heavily rationed and only being sold if you can prove you are using it to aid The Master's cause. It's such an up hill struggle, there are too few of us still. But I have faith in the people we have. We have people from all walks of life working with us; doctors who pass on our news to the vulnerable and desperate. Computer experts who have managed to hack into The Master's network, this is how we found out about you. Farmers like Bernard, who travel across our country and beyond. Our numbers are slowly growing, and every one of our allies has one word on their lips, one word that holds our hope in place, that word is 'Martha'."
"But, why? Why me?"
"Bernard has been keeping us up to date on you, on the story you are telling the folk that you meet."
"I don't understand, why then are your allies not telling people my story about The Doctor? It's his name that should be on everyone's lips, I'm just a messenger in all this, I'm not important."
"Oh, I respectfully disagree Ms Jones" Christophe interrupts. "It is you who is down here, walking amongst us, seeing what we see. You are one of us, you are here in the flesh, it's easy to believe in what you know to be true."
"I assure you Christophe, The Doctor is as real as you, me or anyone else in this room. He is the key to all this, while I'm down here he's up there, with him, with The Master. God only knows if he's even still alive, but I have to believe he is, it's the only hope we have. He knows The Master better than any soul alive, with all the best will in the World, we could never bring him down ourselves, not your alliance or even the entire human race. He works on a level we just can't understand. This is why we need The Doctor, we need to put our faith in him. He's put all his faith in humanity, it's the least we can do in return." Christophe and Vanessa exchange a look, and Vanessa bows her head. After a moment she looks at Martha.
"Well, then I guess it's settled. We will help you Martha, we will tell our people your story and we will implore them to pass it on as the gospel truth, above all else. But it will sound even better coming from you. Your journey so far has been admirable, but you must know how limited your scope is with just you. We have our equipment set up for our radio broadcast, we are not due to air for several hours, but we'd like you to record your message. People need to hear your voice, they need to hear your story in your own words, to hear your passion and belief in this Doctor. We will hold off broadcasting it until you have had ample time to put some distance between yourself and here. But after that it will air on a loop on this station and our sister stations throughout Europe, and of course our website." Martha can barely manage to find the words to express what she's feeling, how can she, there can be no other words than,
"Thank you." With tears streaming down her face, now it's Martha's turn to embrace Vanessa. "Before I leave, please let me know your web address, I can't guarantee that I'll have access to a computer myself, but I'll be sure to pass it on as much as I can. I'm not sure how I can keep in touch with you though, as I say, I can't just pop into an internet cafe!"
"That won't be necessary Martha, the Resistance allies will keep us up to date on your progress."
"But how, there's no way they'll know, I have to leave Europe eventually, how could you possibly keep track?"
"We know, but from now on you will always be accompanied by at least one member of the alliance. I'll be with you on the first leg, we have a contact in Genoa, Italy who has agreed to take you to Tunisia, if you so wish. I can do a great deal of Europe, I have my van so I can travel, I have the allies, and without meaning to sound rude, I have significantly more languages under my belt than you." Vanessa chortles.
"But Vanessa, you can't, it's too dangerous! Please Christophe, tell her." Christophe simply looks down at his shoes, he is already resigned to the reality of the situation, Vanessa has made up her mind, and once she does that there's no changing it. "Do you have any idea what you're letting yourself in for?"
"I imagine a damn sight less than you. I'm not a wanted woman remember. I won't hear anymore protests from you, we have work to get on with. Adrian will help you record your message. If it's ok with you, we'd like to also take some photos, to prove that it's really you. I have to make some calls and set things in motion. After you've done your message, Chris will show you to your room for tonight, it's important you get some rest. We'll have a long journey ahead of us tomorrow. Adrian will write down the web address for you, it's just a series of random number for the most part, so not terribly easy to memorise."
Martha opens her mouth to protest, but stops herself. She knows it's pointless arguing. In her heart, she knows that this is what's needed to be done, to have any hope of spreading The Doctor's story. She's just one lone soul, and she had already been growing weary. But this news had inflamed her once again, to know she isn't alone, that The Resistance exists and is poised to broadcast the message far and wide. More people fighting her cause means more people falling in battle, but Martha can't deny them the right, it's better to lose your life doing what's right, than living at the expense of your liberty and basic human dignity. The Resistance symbolises the indomitable spirit of humanity, and there just has to be more groups like them forming all over the globe. Martha found the alliance, and the alliance will find these other courageous souls. There is hope once again.
17th July.
Michele gazed at the computer screen. She had read this message umpteen times, she knew it off by heart, but she read it again. The enormity was just beginning to sink in. Martha Jones is real and she had precisely what they were praying she had; the secret of how to destroy The Master. She hadn't fully believed it was possible, that this one wee slip of a girl could bring down a tyrant, a dictator with an army in every country and spies around every corner. These spies are the reason why Michele has gone to such lengths to view this message. A series of re-routers designed to hide her location from anyone who tries to trace users of this site, and a rather ingenious program designed by a fellow Resistance member, that ensures anyone who tries to examine her hard disk would come away convinced she spends her nights looking up knitting patterns of cats. In reality this computer was a lifeline, a connection to a network of friends and strangers, all working towards the same thing. This was the goal they shared with Martha Jones. As she started reading the message again, the computer pinged to life. She had a new e-mail. Clicking her inbox, her eyes were immediately drawn to the bold bright red writing of the newest message. It was from Archangel, that could only mean one thing, this was from The Master's Government - which is a total misnomer, this is a dictatorship and his aids are merely minions at best.
URGENT ATTENTION FOR THE JOURNALISM SECTOR WORKERS.
It has come to the Archangel Network's attention that there is a malignant presence on the surface, threatening the stability and morale of the population. The cause of this unrest is a young woman called Martha Jones (see below for photo identification). She is a known trouble maker who has been a person of interest to us for some time, due to her association with the free radical known as 'The Doctor'. It is believe that she is has been continuing The Doctor's ill deeds since The Master's highly exalted capture of said Doctor. She is to be considered armed and dangerous, citizens must at no point approach her, for their own safety. This information about Miss Jones must be reported in all Archangel approved publications immediately, for the populations' own good, as well as the long term welfare of the glorious Archangel Empire.
A wave of nausea washed over Michele as the reality hit her, as this was her job. Where once she was an ambitious young journalist, working her way up the career ladder in the UK broadsheet newspapers, now she was reduced to writing puff pieces that had virtually been dictated by The Master in the UK's only sanctioned newspaper, The Daily Empire. This was something that went against everything she ever believed in, everyday was a constant struggle with her conscience. Had she sold out? When she was summoned to work for this newspaper, many of her ex-colleagues envied her. Work's thin on the ground in every occupation, and to be hand selected meant a reasonable pay check, as well as an 'in' into the Master's inner circle, a band of people guaranteed safe passage after Judgement Day as well as a degree of power in the present, for whatever that's worth under this dictatorship. But despite a satisfactory belief that she was now safe, and an uncomfortable knowledge that she was better off than her peers, Michele just couldn't shake off this feeling of being a traitor. Her friends in the Resistance had tried to mollify these creeping uncertainties by pointing out that she is one of their top agents when it comes to keeping them abreast of new developments. Her job as a journalist was not only to act as a spokesperson for The Master, but also to act as a filter, to catch any negative stories and put a positive spin on them. She also had the unenviable task of writing articles that made out that every twisted deed The Master enacted was really for the population's own good. But, as her good friend Vanessa would remind her, every piece of discarded material from her articles would make its way over to the alliance's headquarters in Avignon, and every little piece helped in eroding the trust he was building for himself, not only with the propaganda, but with manipulation via the Archangel psychic network.
Michele closed the e-mail and rested her face in her hands. Her double agent act had reached what seemed to be an insurmountable obstacle. How could she possibly write this article without seriously endangering Martha, and setting the Resistance's cause back significantly? But refusing would almost certainly lead to her being 'disappeared'. and she knew enough from her position to know that traitors do anything but disappear, they are kept alive in the Archangel camps well beyond the point where they wished they were long dead. She desperately wanted to contact Vanessa, ask for her advice, but this wasn't possible, she was on the road now, taking Martha to meet another Resistance member who would take her on the next leg of her journey.
She opened up WordPad and sat staring at the blank page with a growing feeling of utter futility. Every now and again her fingers would hover over the keyboard, but she'd pull away again, she didn't know where to even start. The harder she forced herself to think, the further any inspiration she had would be pushed back into her subconscious. Every potential sentence she thought of was the potential forebearer of a story that would be an unforgivable portrayal of Martha. She had to bear in mind how this article could affect the already fragile minds over an over-manipulated public. From what the alliance's website had been reporting, there was a lot of public favour considering the psychic network is still in action. One theory is that people had been pushed to the edge with the horrors that they had seen, and it was the unwavering voice of dissent that was starting to jolt people out of their complacency. The public had needed someone or something to focus their minds and collect the stray contentious thoughts they were having about The Master.
Of course! That was it, that's what she needed to do! She didn't have to write a single lie about Martha, not when the truth would suffice to inspire discord in the populace. What they needed to know what that it was not hopeless, that there is someone out there with the courage to stand up against a seemingly indomitable force. She could be a poster girl all right, The Master need not have any idea that the Wanted posters he's planning on posting World wide could easily be subverted, they could become the underground symbol of rebellion. Yes, it was becoming increasingly clear what she had to do. Write a piece detailing Martha's so called acts of terrorism, wax lyrical about the contempt she feels for The Master and his regiment. Maybe she could dig up a little back story on this Doctor and Captain Jack who were known to be accomplices. Michele thought back to the days where she was cajoled into going to Sunday school by her mother. She wasn't religious, but her mother was, and she knew humouring her on this would be much easier. Even though it never swayed her opinion, she was always grateful she went, for that was where she first heard the phrase that put her on the course she never wavered from for the rest of her life. It was from John 8:32, Jesus said
"...you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free." That was the backbone to every one of her underlying principles, it was why she got into journalism in the first place. She believed with every fibre of her being that everyone had the right to the truth, and it was her duty to deliver that truth. With a smile Michele offered a silent thank you to her mother, for it was her faith that bought her to this moment. For all her past cynicism, Michele now knew that the thing that would lead to humanity's ultimate salvation wasn't going to happen in front of their eyes, it was going to slowly but surely happen through faith; Martha's faith in The Doctor, people's faith in Martha, The Doctor's faith in humanity.
18th July.
Martha tilts her head back relishing the welcome ocean breeze on her face, after hours in the stifling hot car. They've been driving for a day, and have finally reached their destination - Genoa, Italy. This is where they're going to meet Jay, another Resistance member. He has a private yacht, and a lot of experience sailing, and was charged with the task of escorting Martha to Africa, first stop, Tunisia.
Today is the day Vanessa and Martha will say goodbye, even after only two days of knowing each other, separating is going to be painful, the bond they've formed is akin to one Martha would have expected to have taken years in normal circumstances. In these desperate times Martha is grateful to have someone like Vanessa, who is not only taking a huge burden off her shoulders by volunteering to travel Europe and spread The Doctor's story herself, but risking her own life in the process. Vanessa and the other members of the Resistance may not be known enemies of The Master (yet), but they don't have the assuagement of having a perception filter to keep them from the constant threat of the Toclafane, The Master's alien little minions who are so much more dangerous than his human henchmen. They were clearly indebted to The Master for something, and it was becoming increasingly clear that these little creatures were starting to make themselves very much at home on Earth. There wasn't going to be enough room for all of them and all the human race.
Vanessa walks over from where she's parked the car, and hidden it amongst some bushes. She stands beside Martha, looking out at the ocean view.
"It's beautiful isn't it?"
"It's one of the first truly beautiful views I've seen for a few days. I suppose it's hard to scorch the ocean, not that He hasn't already thought of something to do with it." Martha sighs, recalling the scenes she encountered the previous day. They were driving through old towns that had been demolished by the Toclafane and henchmen, it was all so needless and spiteful, designed to break what was left of the residing humans' spirits. Vast stretches of countryside were also obliterated, where once there were pastures and fields of wild flowers, now there was only darkness, and the overpowering stench of fire and death. The Earth as they knew it was being transformed, capacious stretches of land had been ensnared by The Master, and where once there were pastures, now there were makeshift factories, rumour has it they are to be nuclear facilities.
"Come on, it's no use dwelling, we should go have something to eat before we meet Jay. I saw a little shop whilst I was driving in that looked like it used to be a convenience store, they're bound to have tinned foods in there that haven't expired. Thank God I remembered my trusty tin opener huh?" That manages to raise a smile from Martha, albeit a half-hearted one. Vanessa puts an arm around Martha's shoulders and ushers her to the store.
After a make shift meal of tinned peaches and condensed milk, and a diversion into an abandoned hotel to freshen up, Vanessa and Martha make their way to the sea port. They were due to meet Jay anytime now, providing he has even made it here alive. The ports and harbours all over the world were being monitored. Jay would be able to get in as he's a doctor. Doctors and nurses are one of the professions the Master decided to out source rather than include in his inner circle, the well-being of the general human population was incidental to him for the most part, but he did need workers to keep his factories thriving, and was especially keen that children be kept in satisfactory health, they were to become his soldiers, workers and his adoring population when they matured. Schools had already been set up to instill his values into the next generation, these boarding schools were mostly populated by the children of desperate parents, people who could no longer afford to feed a family, or who wanted to ensure their child's safety after the Final Judgement.
Vanessa spots him first, it's she after all, who knows who she's looking for. Jay spots them and gives a relieved smile. He clearly had the same worries as they did about him, that they wouldn't make it to this point. On several occasions Martha feared this as well. They had cause to stop and hide from the Troclafane three times, the second time Vanessa was so eager to drive into a nearby forest for shelter that their car got stuck in a ditch. Ironically it was a passing soldier who came to Vanessa's aid in the end, whilst all the while Martha hid in the boot of the car, clinging to the perception filter around her neck for dear life, as if the force of her clenched fist around it would cause the key to render her entirely invisible. But the soldier had no reason to look in the boot, he had more than enough equipment to free the car and send them on their way. Vanessa races ahead of Martha and hugs Jay with all the joy she could muster, until eventually Martha has to clear her throat to remind them she is there. Jay lets go of Vanessa and strides over to Martha, still grinning and extends his hand to hers, shaking it exuberantly.
"Martha Jones, well I'll be damned! It's an honour to be able to do this, please, if there's anything I can do for you, let me know."
"Uh thanks Jay, but maybe you could start by letting my hand go, I'm not going to be much use with my shoulder out its socket!" Martha gives a friendly laugh. "Or maybe it wouldn't be such a problem, you're a doctor too I hear."
"Yes! Well, truth be told I've been a little out of practice the last couple of months, I've been on the move for half that time, and when I have seen prospective patients, it's just been the odd sprained ankle, and exhaustion, that's the main thing, exhaustion of the manual labourers, and there's really not much I can do to help with such limited medical supplies."
"Can you not get them from the hospitals?"
"The Master's got them covered, he charges an extortionate amount of money to anyone asking for supplies."
"Yes, I can imagine. I think I could be able to help you there actually, thanks to this baby." Martha reaches into her breast pocket and pulls out a key.
"Right, what is that, some sort of master key? No pun intended. You can unlock any door you want, and can sneak in?"
"Well, I guess you're not far off about sneaking in anywhere I wish. Sometimes there's isn't all that much sneaking involved at all, I just pop this round my neck and walk in, it's all about acting as inconspicuous as possible." Martha sees the incredulous look on Jay's face. "For instance, why did it take you so long to say hello to me when we walked up to you?"
"Because Vanessa nearly tackled me to the floor?"
"Well yes there's that, but you also didn't notice me. It's not that you didn't know I was there, but I was unimportant, like that seagull over there. You know I'm here, but you don't focus your attention on me, it's like your eyes are repelled by my presence or something."
"So what is that, some stolen technology from Him?"
"Well, not him exactly, but they're kind of related. It's complicated, a long story for a long journey."
"Speaking of which, I was hoping to get moving soon. I'm sorry, I know it's short notice, but ideally it's best to leave before sunset." Martha looks at Vanessa, and sees the same forlorn look that she has. This is it, time to say goodbye. After such a short time together, it's already the end of their journey together. But this isn't the end for Vanessa's part in Martha's story. Even though their paths cannot meet again in this time, Vanessa's work spreading the Doctor's story around Europe is pivotal, not only in the eventual downfall of The Master, and the restoring of The Doctor, but it gives the people hope and something to believe in, a focus where before there was a growing despondency. The story of the Doctor will be a great uniter, something that forges an underlying bond between people to replace the shared feeling of bereavement and despair. They may be saying goodbye, but Martha will be a constant presence in Vanessa's life, and Vanessa is determined to make sure, that it's not just The Doctor who should have his story told, it's Martha too, the young woman who walks the Earth, emboldening the souls of the wretched and uniting humanity like it's never been before. The Doctor may be who they need to get out of this dire situation in a year's time, but it's the legend of Martha Jones that will inspire the inhabitants of this tiny planet to keep hope in their hearts.
The End.
Title: Viva La Resistance.
Author: LondonBeauty.
Characters: Martha Jones.
Rating: PG (mild language)
Spoilers: The Sound of Drums, Last of the Time Lords.
Disclaimer: I do not in anyway own Martha Jones, the Jones family, The Doctor, Captain Jack or The Master. The rest are my creations (unless there's one Doctor Who character I've forgotten).
Summary: Martha Jones finds her mission to spread The Doctor's word isn't going to be as lonely as she thought.
Author's notes: Thank you so much to persiflage_1 for being such an encouraging beta. Without her this fic may never have been written. Thank you as well to nightbeast, for her helpful suggestions to this newbie.
This story is compiled of three fics I wrote for the telling_a_story ficathon. It follows three days of Martha Jones' year long journey across the Earth, as mentioned in Last of the Time Lords.
16th July
Two days they've been driving through the countryside. Two days and barely a soul to be seen. She prays it's because everyone's hiding, keeping themselves as inconspicuous as possible, so as not to draw attention to themselves, for in this current climate that can only lead to trouble. You don't know who to trust. The Master's henchmen are easy enough to spot, modesty is hardly one of his prevailing traits so he's made sure they are dressed as commando and intimidating as possible. No, the ones you need to be wary of, are ordinary, but desperate citizens. They won't sell their neighbour out of spite or greed, but out of a deep rooted fear they can feel in their bones, if they comply with The Master's wishes he may show mercy for when his 'Judgement Day' arrives. It doesn't bear thinking about what that could even entail, when you look at how things currently are. Vast areas of land either scorched or commandeered, the military, or His military, now control a great deal of the distribution of food. It's thanks to many local, independent farmers that food is still being transported to out of the way towns and villages.
It's one of these farmers that Martha Jones is travelling with now. Her French has become very rusty since her school days, and he speaks no English, but eventually through faltered conversations and a form of pidgin sign-language they came to an understanding, where he will drive her on his route, and she will keep him company and help him deliver some of his stock. This has been a good way of reaching the very few people she could. She would sit out of sight, with the help of the perception filter key around her neck, and wait for the farmer to give her the nod. He seems to understand how wary Martha was of people, on his travels he must have seen the treachery blight the already danger fraught landscape.
Martha had been dropping off to sleep, but was quick to snap back to her usual state of alertness with the sound of a door slamming. They've stopped, and the farmer is unloading some goods from the back of the truck. After groggily stretching her arms and loosening a crick in her neck, her hand instinctively shoots up to the key around her neck. It's still there, of course, but she needs to feel it, it's a comfort as well as a connection to what was the tail end of a much more innocent time. Of course the time she'd spent travelling with The Doctor she had seen some disturbing things and been through the emotional gamut, but this ... this was something far beyond any of that. This wasn't just her life in jeopardy, or his. As arrogant as it may sound, she always felt that they could both look after themselves when push came to shove, that they could take responsibility for themselves. But seeing her family being manhandled by those damn henchmen, and the fear in her mother's eyes. That's what it always came back to. Martha often recalled everything that had happened the last couple of months, but the thing that haunted her the most was the look in her mother's eyes; the fear, the guilt, the hopelessness. She'd never seen that in her mother before, and it unnerved her. Through everything the family had been through, her mother always maintained control, even if she was furious, depressed or rejected, she always seemed to have direction and purpose. To see her looking so helpless was a jolt to the system. It's that look which keeps Martha going, that keeps the fight burning in her, and she needs that fight. Because despite being fully aware of the vitalness of her mission, there are many days she longs to take the perception filter and hide, away from the bodies, the rubble, the constant climate of foreboding.
Touching the key, feeling the warm metal always grounded her, brought her back to reality. It also served her very practically too, walking into abandoned shops to get food and other supplies, finding shelter to sleep, and surveying camps and groups of people to gauge the mood, to guess if they would be open to her and her words. She would need to do all this again at this new place. She opens the car door cautiously, and slides out the high seat, relishing the feel of gravel under her shoes after driving for hours. She takes a few steps to stretch her legs, and breathes in the fresh night air. She looks at her watch and sees it's 1am local time, which must now mean it's the 16th of July. It's hard to keep up with the dates now, but she knows she must, it is vital she keeps the final date at the forefront of her mind, not only to keep her moving, but to tell the others, everyone she possibly can of The Doctor's plan.
As Martha is walking in circles, trying to get the circulation moving in her legs again, a she hears the farmer talking, a second later a young woman responds. Whatever they're talking about, there's an almost frenetic tone to her voice. Whatever's going on, Martha feels suddenly exposed standing in the middle of the road. She moves to get back into the car, but the farmer sees her and beckons her over. He's gotten better at spotting her now when she's wearing the perception filter, after all, it doesn't actually turn one invisible, but rather a combination of innocuous and unobtrusive, when somebody wants to see you, they most likely will with enough concentration. He seems at ease, and as she inches forward she can see that the look on the young woman's face isn't fear or agitation as she first assumed. Her eyes are wide, and keep glancing over Martha, she's clearly excited in an almost childlike way, impatiently trying to catch a glance of her.
Exhaling slowly, Martha reaches up to the thread holding the key around her neck, and slowly removes it. At once the woman's eyes meet hers, and with a gasp she bounces over to Martha, embracing her like a long lost sister. She can't help but laugh, of all the reactions to her she's had over the weeks, this hasn't been one of them. To see joy, to have human contact like this after so long almost feels overwhelming. Martha began to realise how she'd subconsciously been emotionally detaching herself from everyone she'd come in contact with during her journey, and she also realised why. Forming bonds with people during this mission would not be a good idea, not when she needs to be constantly on the move, not when absolutely anybody could be lost to her in the blink of an eye. Any relationships she formed would surely put the other person on The Master's radar, and potentially lead to their capture, their torture, their demise. That's virtually what's already happened to just about everyone she ever truly loved, everyone bar her brother. Held captive, in God knows what conditions, if they're still alive even... The surge in her stomach nearly threw her off balance, so many emotions rushing through her blood, thoughts, memories, feeling all bombarding her at once. She pulled away sharply, but forced a smile to placate the woman, it's hard enough as it is finding allies, she doesn't want to start alienating the few people who show her good will from the start. Holding Martha by the shoulder at arms' length, she slowly looks her up and down.
"It's true, it's actually...YOU'RE actually her. Martha Jones!"
"Uh yeah, hi, pleased to meet you." This is very awkward, what do you say to a stranger who not only already knows who you are but is acting like the sun shines out of your backside. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."
"No, of course, sorry! I'm Vanessa, a friend of Bernard's. I can't tell you what an honour it is!" To Martha's embarrassment, it took her a couple of seconds to realise that Bernard is actually the farmer's name, the man currently standing beside them, beaming proudly at the scene he helped create. "Look at you, you're exhausted and you must be starving. Please, come in, make yourself comfortable, it must be a long time since you have been, comfortable I mean."
"Yes, thank you. Vanessa was it?" Vanessa nods. "Sorry, I'm just so tired. By the way, you speak very good English if you don't mind me saying."
"Not at all, thank you. I am...was studying the language, well several actually, I was hoping to eventually become a translator, at the U.N. maybe. 'Though considering how much of that still exists, I don't know, it's all such a mess."
"You're telling me! So what do you know at the moment?" Martha follows Vanessa through the door way, trying to navigate though piles of paper stacked all over the floor, whilst trying to hang on to every word. In her excitement, Vanessa's talking nineteen to the dozen causing her to trip up over her words.
"Well, that's a whole other story. One we will let you in on I promise. But after you get some food in you! Look at you, you're wasting away, your clothes are hanging off you, what's even left of them. What have you been through?"
"Well... That's a whole other story. One I will tell you when I've had some of that food you promised!" With a chuckle Martha plonks down on the chair offered to her. She's sitting at a dining table littered with more papers and folders, with a view through a serving hatch into the kitchen, through which a pair of eyes are staring back at her agog. "Umm, hello, bonjour, uh, je suis Martha, do you speak English?" A young man hurries into the room, shooting a disbelieving look at Vanessa. After a brief exchange in French, he grabs Martha's hand, shaking it enthusiastically.
"Martha Jones! But how? How can you be here?"
"I'm starting to feel like quite the celebrity! Your friend, Bernard" Martha emphasised the name and gave a nod to the farmer, hoping it would cover up her ignorance of his name until a few minutes ago, "he picked me up just outside Bourges, he kindly agreed to help me on my, er ... travels. Oh thank you." Vanessa had just placed a mug of coffee in front of her. The smell is almost intoxicating, it's been so long since Martha had indulged her five cups a day habit. She had pretty much gone cold turkey from the first time she stepped into the TARDIS, for all its technological marvels, the ship was sadly lacking in a cafetiere. Martha smiles wryly to herself, it's been a while since she's been able to indulge herself in frivolousness for a while. But even as she's thinking this, another darker thought idea her mind. "This is going to sound like a funny question, and I hope you don't think I'm taking a liberty asking, you've been so kind already.."
"Oh not at all" Vanessa interrupts, "Anything we can help you with, anything at all, it's why we're here!" Martha thought that was an odd if not sweet way of putting it, she returns the sentiment with a gracious smile.
"That coffee, it's fresh, yes?" Vanessa nods. "Would you mind.." Martha hesitates, she knows what a bizarre questions she's about to ask. "Would you mind letting me have, say, a handful of your coffee beans please?" Vanessa gives a chuckle.
"That is hardly asking for the World now is it? Of course you may have some, would you perhaps like a flask too, to make it in?"
"Thank you, but that's not really why I ask. To be honest, it occurred to me on more than one occasion when I've been travelling, I needed something, anything to..." Martha stops, she can feel the bile rising at the sickening memories.
"I think I understand" the young man interjects. "Coffee beans are sometimes good at, uh how do you say it? Cleansing the palate, but uh, with smell yes?" Martha looks down and nods. There were times the last few weeks when Martha would have wished away her sense of smell in a heartbeat. The overflowing sewers and the scorched landscape were deeply unpleasant, but the most excruciating smell was the bodies, the corpses of humans, often strewn on the roads like discarded trash. Martha gives a quick shake of her head, bringing herself back into the present. She's all too aware now of the awkward silence that has descended on the room.
"Of course, I'll get you some now, as I sort out your food" Vanessa says, and moves back into the kitchen.
"Thank you" Martha shouts after her, "I know it's so late, I really do appreciate this." Martha looks to the young man, "I'm sorry, did you tell me your name?"
"No, I'm sorry, how rude of me! My name is Christophe, I am Vanessa's fiancé, I work here too."
"Work here?" What work could they possibly being doing at a time like this? Martha quirks her head to try and read the paper on top of the nearest pile to her, but before she can start getting her head around the French, Vanessa is back with her food. All other business can wait, nothing's going to get in-between Martha and this ham sandwich!
After eating, and having a brief, but incredibly satisfying shower, Martha makes her way downstairs. She had been distracted by these welcome home comforts, but now she was curious, what did Christophe mean when he said he 'worked' in this house? What work could he be doing now that wasn't manual labour, shop work, or working directly for The Master? The last option panicked her. Of course it occurred to her that this could be a trap, but her instinct told her it wasn't, travelling with Bernard she saw the good he was doing, the sincerity of his actions. He wouldn't suddenly turn on her like this. They may not have been able to speak much, but Martha could see how much he hated The Master and his henchmen. She'd picked up a few choice French swear words from him when they would drive through the occasional road blocks set up to try and regulate and monitor any trade going on. Bernard knew enough back roads to avoid them, but when his truck was empty the main roads were just the quickest way to go. It frightened Martha how much The Master already had under his control, he'd achieved an all encompassing dictatorship of the planet in a matter of days. Martha dared not begin to imagine what atrocities he would commit throughout the year, or how much more power he could possibly gain.
Martha walked into the cluttered little room where she had eaten her dinner. Bernard was snoozing on a sofa, whilst Vanessa and Christophe had a whispered conversation at the table. They both sprang to their feet when Martha came into view.
"Thank you so much for letting me use the shower, and lending me the clothes, are you sure you don't mind?"
"No no, really, I have more clothes than I have any use for now, please help yourself to anymore you need." Vanessa walks over to Martha and gives her a quick hug. "You may have guessed by now, but there are a few things we need to discuss with you."
"Yeah, about that, I've been meaning to ask. What did Christophe mean when he said he worked here?"
"Well, precisely that, this is where we do our work."
"Which is?"
"I'm getting to that, but perhaps it will be easier to show you. Please, follow me." Vanessa makes her way through the mess and opens a door on the other side of the room. Martha follows, passing Bernard who is still contentedly dozing, emitting the occasional snore. As she approaches, she sees that a flight of stairs leads down from the door. Vanessa reaches around blindly for a couple of seconds, before her hand finds the light switch. Walking down the stairs, with her hands on the stone wall either side for balance, Martha sees that there's already a light on downstairs, accompanied by a faint clicking. As they descend further, Martha recognises the sounds as fingers typing on a keyboard. They reach the bottom, and Vanessa calls out.
"Adrian!" Martha takes a few steps further and can now see around the corner. A man, about Vanessa and Christophe's age, is sitting by a computer, the light from the screen along with the poor lighting exaggerating the dark circles around his eyes. He looks almost as tired as she feels. Adrian looks up at her and gives a nod, and continues to work. It's not quite the reception she got from the other two. Martha looks around the room, there are five desks, each with a computer. The walls and floors were covered with wires and cables, more than were needed by any computer Martha had ever used. Vanessa grabs a couple of chairs and drags them over to where Adrian is working, and motions for Martha to come and sit. She gives Adrian a nudge, which he takes as his cue to stop what he's doing and start up something that Martha guessed had been set up whilst she was freshening up. As Martha takes a seat, a new window opens on the computer screen. She lets out a sharp gasp, for staring back at her from the screen is her own face, it looks like it's been taken from some CCTV footage. Below in bold red letters are the words:
MARTHA JONES.
WANTED - FOR ACTS OF INDISCRIMINATE TERRORISM AND GROSS TREASON.
SHE SHOULD BE TREATED AS HIGHLY DANGEROUS, MENTALLY UNSTABLE AND MOST LIKELY ARMED.
REWARD FOR CAPTURE - £2,000,000 (US $4,000,000) AND GUARANTEED SAFE PASSAGE AT THE FINAL JUDGEMENT.
SHE MUST BE CAPTURED ALIVE AND CONSCIOUS, OTHERWISE PHYSICAL WELL-BEING UNIMPORTANT.
"What is this?"
"This is what The Master has sent to every one of his workers. He also has a plan in action to post this through every door, and plaster this on every street corner. You must have really pissed this guy off!" Vanessa lets out a chuckle. How could she be laughing when she's apparently playing hostess to public enemy number one?
"I don't understand, this is how you know who I am?"
"You don't have to look so worried, honestly, it's ok. We should tell you a bit about ourselves, it's only fair seeing as we already know you."
"But that, that's not me, those things it's saying...."
"Relax, we know it's crap if it's coming from The Master. My enemy's enemy is my friend, and that's what he is. He is the enemy of humankind, of all that is decent and good, a monster. Nothing I say does him justice, but I don't have to do I? You know. We are only a few, there's us three, and of course Bernard. We have our friends who are scattered throughout France and Europe. They report back to us on what's happening, I mean what's really happening, not the propaganda they are feeding us on those sham news channels. We help get the real news out there, we're trying to educate people on truth of The Master's barbarous acts, what will happen if you inform on your neighbour, debunk the myths he has created around himself. You and I know what's happening out there, but people all over are slowly being brainwashed into disbelieving what their own eyes show them. But we are so few, and it's proving near impossible to spread the word. Not only finding who to trust, to pass on the address of our site, but getting across to people who have limited electricity and no computer access. We have started our own pirate radio station, but as with our website, we have to keep moving addresses and frequency, to avoid detection. We create a mock-up paper, for people to print out and pass on, but it's getting harder to find the paper and ink, in many places it's being heavily rationed and only being sold if you can prove you are using it to aid The Master's cause. It's such an up hill struggle, there are too few of us still. But I have faith in the people we have. We have people from all walks of life working with us; doctors who pass on our news to the vulnerable and desperate. Computer experts who have managed to hack into The Master's network, this is how we found out about you. Farmers like Bernard, who travel across our country and beyond. Our numbers are slowly growing, and every one of our allies has one word on their lips, one word that holds our hope in place, that word is 'Martha'."
"But, why? Why me?"
"Bernard has been keeping us up to date on you, on the story you are telling the folk that you meet."
"I don't understand, why then are your allies not telling people my story about The Doctor? It's his name that should be on everyone's lips, I'm just a messenger in all this, I'm not important."
"Oh, I respectfully disagree Ms Jones" Christophe interrupts. "It is you who is down here, walking amongst us, seeing what we see. You are one of us, you are here in the flesh, it's easy to believe in what you know to be true."
"I assure you Christophe, The Doctor is as real as you, me or anyone else in this room. He is the key to all this, while I'm down here he's up there, with him, with The Master. God only knows if he's even still alive, but I have to believe he is, it's the only hope we have. He knows The Master better than any soul alive, with all the best will in the World, we could never bring him down ourselves, not your alliance or even the entire human race. He works on a level we just can't understand. This is why we need The Doctor, we need to put our faith in him. He's put all his faith in humanity, it's the least we can do in return." Christophe and Vanessa exchange a look, and Vanessa bows her head. After a moment she looks at Martha.
"Well, then I guess it's settled. We will help you Martha, we will tell our people your story and we will implore them to pass it on as the gospel truth, above all else. But it will sound even better coming from you. Your journey so far has been admirable, but you must know how limited your scope is with just you. We have our equipment set up for our radio broadcast, we are not due to air for several hours, but we'd like you to record your message. People need to hear your voice, they need to hear your story in your own words, to hear your passion and belief in this Doctor. We will hold off broadcasting it until you have had ample time to put some distance between yourself and here. But after that it will air on a loop on this station and our sister stations throughout Europe, and of course our website." Martha can barely manage to find the words to express what she's feeling, how can she, there can be no other words than,
"Thank you." With tears streaming down her face, now it's Martha's turn to embrace Vanessa. "Before I leave, please let me know your web address, I can't guarantee that I'll have access to a computer myself, but I'll be sure to pass it on as much as I can. I'm not sure how I can keep in touch with you though, as I say, I can't just pop into an internet cafe!"
"That won't be necessary Martha, the Resistance allies will keep us up to date on your progress."
"But how, there's no way they'll know, I have to leave Europe eventually, how could you possibly keep track?"
"We know, but from now on you will always be accompanied by at least one member of the alliance. I'll be with you on the first leg, we have a contact in Genoa, Italy who has agreed to take you to Tunisia, if you so wish. I can do a great deal of Europe, I have my van so I can travel, I have the allies, and without meaning to sound rude, I have significantly more languages under my belt than you." Vanessa chortles.
"But Vanessa, you can't, it's too dangerous! Please Christophe, tell her." Christophe simply looks down at his shoes, he is already resigned to the reality of the situation, Vanessa has made up her mind, and once she does that there's no changing it. "Do you have any idea what you're letting yourself in for?"
"I imagine a damn sight less than you. I'm not a wanted woman remember. I won't hear anymore protests from you, we have work to get on with. Adrian will help you record your message. If it's ok with you, we'd like to also take some photos, to prove that it's really you. I have to make some calls and set things in motion. After you've done your message, Chris will show you to your room for tonight, it's important you get some rest. We'll have a long journey ahead of us tomorrow. Adrian will write down the web address for you, it's just a series of random number for the most part, so not terribly easy to memorise."
Martha opens her mouth to protest, but stops herself. She knows it's pointless arguing. In her heart, she knows that this is what's needed to be done, to have any hope of spreading The Doctor's story. She's just one lone soul, and she had already been growing weary. But this news had inflamed her once again, to know she isn't alone, that The Resistance exists and is poised to broadcast the message far and wide. More people fighting her cause means more people falling in battle, but Martha can't deny them the right, it's better to lose your life doing what's right, than living at the expense of your liberty and basic human dignity. The Resistance symbolises the indomitable spirit of humanity, and there just has to be more groups like them forming all over the globe. Martha found the alliance, and the alliance will find these other courageous souls. There is hope once again.
17th July.
Michele gazed at the computer screen. She had read this message umpteen times, she knew it off by heart, but she read it again. The enormity was just beginning to sink in. Martha Jones is real and she had precisely what they were praying she had; the secret of how to destroy The Master. She hadn't fully believed it was possible, that this one wee slip of a girl could bring down a tyrant, a dictator with an army in every country and spies around every corner. These spies are the reason why Michele has gone to such lengths to view this message. A series of re-routers designed to hide her location from anyone who tries to trace users of this site, and a rather ingenious program designed by a fellow Resistance member, that ensures anyone who tries to examine her hard disk would come away convinced she spends her nights looking up knitting patterns of cats. In reality this computer was a lifeline, a connection to a network of friends and strangers, all working towards the same thing. This was the goal they shared with Martha Jones. As she started reading the message again, the computer pinged to life. She had a new e-mail. Clicking her inbox, her eyes were immediately drawn to the bold bright red writing of the newest message. It was from Archangel, that could only mean one thing, this was from The Master's Government - which is a total misnomer, this is a dictatorship and his aids are merely minions at best.
URGENT ATTENTION FOR THE JOURNALISM SECTOR WORKERS.
It has come to the Archangel Network's attention that there is a malignant presence on the surface, threatening the stability and morale of the population. The cause of this unrest is a young woman called Martha Jones (see below for photo identification). She is a known trouble maker who has been a person of interest to us for some time, due to her association with the free radical known as 'The Doctor'. It is believe that she is has been continuing The Doctor's ill deeds since The Master's highly exalted capture of said Doctor. She is to be considered armed and dangerous, citizens must at no point approach her, for their own safety. This information about Miss Jones must be reported in all Archangel approved publications immediately, for the populations' own good, as well as the long term welfare of the glorious Archangel Empire.
A wave of nausea washed over Michele as the reality hit her, as this was her job. Where once she was an ambitious young journalist, working her way up the career ladder in the UK broadsheet newspapers, now she was reduced to writing puff pieces that had virtually been dictated by The Master in the UK's only sanctioned newspaper, The Daily Empire. This was something that went against everything she ever believed in, everyday was a constant struggle with her conscience. Had she sold out? When she was summoned to work for this newspaper, many of her ex-colleagues envied her. Work's thin on the ground in every occupation, and to be hand selected meant a reasonable pay check, as well as an 'in' into the Master's inner circle, a band of people guaranteed safe passage after Judgement Day as well as a degree of power in the present, for whatever that's worth under this dictatorship. But despite a satisfactory belief that she was now safe, and an uncomfortable knowledge that she was better off than her peers, Michele just couldn't shake off this feeling of being a traitor. Her friends in the Resistance had tried to mollify these creeping uncertainties by pointing out that she is one of their top agents when it comes to keeping them abreast of new developments. Her job as a journalist was not only to act as a spokesperson for The Master, but also to act as a filter, to catch any negative stories and put a positive spin on them. She also had the unenviable task of writing articles that made out that every twisted deed The Master enacted was really for the population's own good. But, as her good friend Vanessa would remind her, every piece of discarded material from her articles would make its way over to the alliance's headquarters in Avignon, and every little piece helped in eroding the trust he was building for himself, not only with the propaganda, but with manipulation via the Archangel psychic network.
Michele closed the e-mail and rested her face in her hands. Her double agent act had reached what seemed to be an insurmountable obstacle. How could she possibly write this article without seriously endangering Martha, and setting the Resistance's cause back significantly? But refusing would almost certainly lead to her being 'disappeared'. and she knew enough from her position to know that traitors do anything but disappear, they are kept alive in the Archangel camps well beyond the point where they wished they were long dead. She desperately wanted to contact Vanessa, ask for her advice, but this wasn't possible, she was on the road now, taking Martha to meet another Resistance member who would take her on the next leg of her journey.
She opened up WordPad and sat staring at the blank page with a growing feeling of utter futility. Every now and again her fingers would hover over the keyboard, but she'd pull away again, she didn't know where to even start. The harder she forced herself to think, the further any inspiration she had would be pushed back into her subconscious. Every potential sentence she thought of was the potential forebearer of a story that would be an unforgivable portrayal of Martha. She had to bear in mind how this article could affect the already fragile minds over an over-manipulated public. From what the alliance's website had been reporting, there was a lot of public favour considering the psychic network is still in action. One theory is that people had been pushed to the edge with the horrors that they had seen, and it was the unwavering voice of dissent that was starting to jolt people out of their complacency. The public had needed someone or something to focus their minds and collect the stray contentious thoughts they were having about The Master.
Of course! That was it, that's what she needed to do! She didn't have to write a single lie about Martha, not when the truth would suffice to inspire discord in the populace. What they needed to know what that it was not hopeless, that there is someone out there with the courage to stand up against a seemingly indomitable force. She could be a poster girl all right, The Master need not have any idea that the Wanted posters he's planning on posting World wide could easily be subverted, they could become the underground symbol of rebellion. Yes, it was becoming increasingly clear what she had to do. Write a piece detailing Martha's so called acts of terrorism, wax lyrical about the contempt she feels for The Master and his regiment. Maybe she could dig up a little back story on this Doctor and Captain Jack who were known to be accomplices. Michele thought back to the days where she was cajoled into going to Sunday school by her mother. She wasn't religious, but her mother was, and she knew humouring her on this would be much easier. Even though it never swayed her opinion, she was always grateful she went, for that was where she first heard the phrase that put her on the course she never wavered from for the rest of her life. It was from John 8:32, Jesus said
"...you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free." That was the backbone to every one of her underlying principles, it was why she got into journalism in the first place. She believed with every fibre of her being that everyone had the right to the truth, and it was her duty to deliver that truth. With a smile Michele offered a silent thank you to her mother, for it was her faith that bought her to this moment. For all her past cynicism, Michele now knew that the thing that would lead to humanity's ultimate salvation wasn't going to happen in front of their eyes, it was going to slowly but surely happen through faith; Martha's faith in The Doctor, people's faith in Martha, The Doctor's faith in humanity.
18th July.
Martha tilts her head back relishing the welcome ocean breeze on her face, after hours in the stifling hot car. They've been driving for a day, and have finally reached their destination - Genoa, Italy. This is where they're going to meet Jay, another Resistance member. He has a private yacht, and a lot of experience sailing, and was charged with the task of escorting Martha to Africa, first stop, Tunisia.
Today is the day Vanessa and Martha will say goodbye, even after only two days of knowing each other, separating is going to be painful, the bond they've formed is akin to one Martha would have expected to have taken years in normal circumstances. In these desperate times Martha is grateful to have someone like Vanessa, who is not only taking a huge burden off her shoulders by volunteering to travel Europe and spread The Doctor's story herself, but risking her own life in the process. Vanessa and the other members of the Resistance may not be known enemies of The Master (yet), but they don't have the assuagement of having a perception filter to keep them from the constant threat of the Toclafane, The Master's alien little minions who are so much more dangerous than his human henchmen. They were clearly indebted to The Master for something, and it was becoming increasingly clear that these little creatures were starting to make themselves very much at home on Earth. There wasn't going to be enough room for all of them and all the human race.
Vanessa walks over from where she's parked the car, and hidden it amongst some bushes. She stands beside Martha, looking out at the ocean view.
"It's beautiful isn't it?"
"It's one of the first truly beautiful views I've seen for a few days. I suppose it's hard to scorch the ocean, not that He hasn't already thought of something to do with it." Martha sighs, recalling the scenes she encountered the previous day. They were driving through old towns that had been demolished by the Toclafane and henchmen, it was all so needless and spiteful, designed to break what was left of the residing humans' spirits. Vast stretches of countryside were also obliterated, where once there were pastures and fields of wild flowers, now there was only darkness, and the overpowering stench of fire and death. The Earth as they knew it was being transformed, capacious stretches of land had been ensnared by The Master, and where once there were pastures, now there were makeshift factories, rumour has it they are to be nuclear facilities.
"Come on, it's no use dwelling, we should go have something to eat before we meet Jay. I saw a little shop whilst I was driving in that looked like it used to be a convenience store, they're bound to have tinned foods in there that haven't expired. Thank God I remembered my trusty tin opener huh?" That manages to raise a smile from Martha, albeit a half-hearted one. Vanessa puts an arm around Martha's shoulders and ushers her to the store.
After a make shift meal of tinned peaches and condensed milk, and a diversion into an abandoned hotel to freshen up, Vanessa and Martha make their way to the sea port. They were due to meet Jay anytime now, providing he has even made it here alive. The ports and harbours all over the world were being monitored. Jay would be able to get in as he's a doctor. Doctors and nurses are one of the professions the Master decided to out source rather than include in his inner circle, the well-being of the general human population was incidental to him for the most part, but he did need workers to keep his factories thriving, and was especially keen that children be kept in satisfactory health, they were to become his soldiers, workers and his adoring population when they matured. Schools had already been set up to instill his values into the next generation, these boarding schools were mostly populated by the children of desperate parents, people who could no longer afford to feed a family, or who wanted to ensure their child's safety after the Final Judgement.
Vanessa spots him first, it's she after all, who knows who she's looking for. Jay spots them and gives a relieved smile. He clearly had the same worries as they did about him, that they wouldn't make it to this point. On several occasions Martha feared this as well. They had cause to stop and hide from the Troclafane three times, the second time Vanessa was so eager to drive into a nearby forest for shelter that their car got stuck in a ditch. Ironically it was a passing soldier who came to Vanessa's aid in the end, whilst all the while Martha hid in the boot of the car, clinging to the perception filter around her neck for dear life, as if the force of her clenched fist around it would cause the key to render her entirely invisible. But the soldier had no reason to look in the boot, he had more than enough equipment to free the car and send them on their way. Vanessa races ahead of Martha and hugs Jay with all the joy she could muster, until eventually Martha has to clear her throat to remind them she is there. Jay lets go of Vanessa and strides over to Martha, still grinning and extends his hand to hers, shaking it exuberantly.
"Martha Jones, well I'll be damned! It's an honour to be able to do this, please, if there's anything I can do for you, let me know."
"Uh thanks Jay, but maybe you could start by letting my hand go, I'm not going to be much use with my shoulder out its socket!" Martha gives a friendly laugh. "Or maybe it wouldn't be such a problem, you're a doctor too I hear."
"Yes! Well, truth be told I've been a little out of practice the last couple of months, I've been on the move for half that time, and when I have seen prospective patients, it's just been the odd sprained ankle, and exhaustion, that's the main thing, exhaustion of the manual labourers, and there's really not much I can do to help with such limited medical supplies."
"Can you not get them from the hospitals?"
"The Master's got them covered, he charges an extortionate amount of money to anyone asking for supplies."
"Yes, I can imagine. I think I could be able to help you there actually, thanks to this baby." Martha reaches into her breast pocket and pulls out a key.
"Right, what is that, some sort of master key? No pun intended. You can unlock any door you want, and can sneak in?"
"Well, I guess you're not far off about sneaking in anywhere I wish. Sometimes there's isn't all that much sneaking involved at all, I just pop this round my neck and walk in, it's all about acting as inconspicuous as possible." Martha sees the incredulous look on Jay's face. "For instance, why did it take you so long to say hello to me when we walked up to you?"
"Because Vanessa nearly tackled me to the floor?"
"Well yes there's that, but you also didn't notice me. It's not that you didn't know I was there, but I was unimportant, like that seagull over there. You know I'm here, but you don't focus your attention on me, it's like your eyes are repelled by my presence or something."
"So what is that, some stolen technology from Him?"
"Well, not him exactly, but they're kind of related. It's complicated, a long story for a long journey."
"Speaking of which, I was hoping to get moving soon. I'm sorry, I know it's short notice, but ideally it's best to leave before sunset." Martha looks at Vanessa, and sees the same forlorn look that she has. This is it, time to say goodbye. After such a short time together, it's already the end of their journey together. But this isn't the end for Vanessa's part in Martha's story. Even though their paths cannot meet again in this time, Vanessa's work spreading the Doctor's story around Europe is pivotal, not only in the eventual downfall of The Master, and the restoring of The Doctor, but it gives the people hope and something to believe in, a focus where before there was a growing despondency. The story of the Doctor will be a great uniter, something that forges an underlying bond between people to replace the shared feeling of bereavement and despair. They may be saying goodbye, but Martha will be a constant presence in Vanessa's life, and Vanessa is determined to make sure, that it's not just The Doctor who should have his story told, it's Martha too, the young woman who walks the Earth, emboldening the souls of the wretched and uniting humanity like it's never been before. The Doctor may be who they need to get out of this dire situation in a year's time, but it's the legend of Martha Jones that will inspire the inhabitants of this tiny planet to keep hope in their hearts.
The End.