A Shift in Perspective (5/10)
Who_Daily Link: < a href="http://persiflage-1.livejournal.com/162389.html"> A Shift in Perspective (5/10) by < lj user=persiflage_1> (Characters: Martha, Second Doctor, Tenth Doctor, The Brigadier, Sgt Benton, Zoe | Rating: G | Spoilers: S5 Classic Who, S4 New Who)
Title: A Shift in Perspective (5/10)
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Martha, Second Doctor, Tenth Doctor, The Brigadier, Sgt Benton, Zoe
Rating: G
Spoilers: The Web of Fear, The Wheel in Space, The Invasion, S4
Summary: The Tenth Doctor goes missing and it's up to Martha Jones to track him down again, but it proves both harder and more instructive than she expects.
Disclaimer: I don't even own my brain any more, never mind Doctor Who!
Author Notes: This is the fifth chapter in a ten chapter story that's set a couple of months after S4. Credit goes to box_in_the_box for suggesting the villain of the piece.
Many thanks to my Beta readers for this chapter: laura_luvage, ladymako71 and most especially shadowturquoise, who has done sterling work in making sure this didn't utterly suck!
Index Post
~~~~~~
Martha's next jump was greeted with cries of alarm and a voice shouting "Don't shoot! Don't shoot!", but the instruction came too late because she felt a sharp pain in her left shoulder and heard the report of a gun. She struggled to focus on her surroundings even as darkness was overtaking her senses, and she caught a brief glimpse of a small man with a Beatles haircut and a look of shock on his face before she crashed unconscious to the ground.
When Martha came to again it was with a hiss of pain and she immediately reached over to her left shoulder to find a large dressing secured there. She squinted through half open eyes and found the man with the Beatles haircut watching her anxiously.
"How are you my dear?" he asked, patting her arm with nervous, fluttery gestures.
"Doctor?" she asked, remembering the third incarnation's reference to a fidgety little man.
He smiled, brightening his lugubrious expression. "Yes, that's me. I'm terribly sorry about your shoulder. I'm afraid the Brigadier's men are rather jumpy just at the moment."
"The Brigadier?" asked Martha, not quite daring to believe he meant Sir Alistair, even though she knew he'd known the Doctor for many years.
"That's me," said another voice from behind the Time Lord.
Martha felt her heart thumping at the sight of this younger version of the men she admired. He looked at least forty years younger: his hair and moustache were dark and neat, and his back was ramrod straight. His uniform was crisp and smart, and he had a swagger stick tucked under one arm. He looked the epitome of a no-nonsense military man, and Martha found herself sitting up to salute him.
"Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart. Dr Martha Jones, UNIT MO, reporting, sir."
He and the Doctor swapped looks of surprise before the Brigadier spoke.
"No need for that young lady," he assured her, "not when you're sick. I must apologise for my chap's lack of discipline, and I can assure you that he will be punished for his precipitate response."
"Oh, but it wasn't his fault," she objected quickly. "I'm sure he was just doing his job."
"Nevertheless, he had no business shooting an unarmed woman, no matter how sudden or unconventional the manner of her arrival."
"Yeah, I'm sorry about that," she said, feeling awkward.
"May we ask how it was possible for you to appear in such a manner?" asked the Doctor, looking very interested.
"You might want to sit down," she suggested. "It's a bit of a long story."
She waited while they both fetched chairs, taking the chance to have a proper look at her surroundings: she was in a small, white room which contained three beds but had no windows. The other two beds were empty, and the room looked similar to her own infirmary, apart from the lack of windows.
"By the way, where am I?" she asked as the Doctor and the Brigadier settled themselves beside her bed.
"This is a mobile UNIT HQ," the Brigadier told her. "We're actually onboard a Hercules transport plane."
She blinked, then nodded: that explained the lack of windows. By her day UNIT tended not use aircraft as mobile HQs except in emergency situations overseas.
"You were going to tell us your story," the Doctor reminded her gently.
"Yes, of course." She frowned, forcing herself to concentrate despite the dull ache in her shoulder and the lingering effects of the anaesthetic she'd been given when they'd removed the bullet, then she began her narrative. She was reminded of her year walking the world, telling the same story over and over again, but at least she wasn't being chased by Toclafane this time.
The two men listened with rapt attention: the Doctor seemed fascinated by her account, but she could tell the Brigadier was a little more sceptical, and she reminded herself that at this point he didn't have decades of experience of dealing with either the Doctor or the dozens of alien incursions that would happen between now and the time when she had met him in the aftermath of the ATMOS affair.
This Doctor also did not have centuries of experience behind him, and instead of the pain and darkness she was used to seeing in her Doctor's eyes, there was a child-like wonder lurking in his expression. He might have a naturally mournful face, but his eyes weren't haunted by loss and loneliness. She found herself wondering where his travelling companion was, and if there was more than one of them again.
"Well this is an incredible tale," observed the Brigadier, breaking the thoughtful silence that had followed the conclusion of Martha's narrative.
"Do you know who might have been responsible for kidnapping you, your later incarnation, I mean?" she asked the Doctor.
The little man shook his head sadly. "I am afraid not my dear."
She sighed quietly. "I guess I'll just have to keep searching for him then."
"I don't think you should go anywhere just yet though," he said. "After all, it's only a few hours since you were shot."
Martha opened her mouth, but before she could speak, the Brigadier interjected. "The Doctor is quite right. I cannot allow you to leave until my own MO assures me you're fit again."
"But that could take days," she protested, horrified.
The Doctor gave her a smile. "You can leave in a few hours time," he told her. "After the bullet was removed, I treated your wound myself. You just need some food and a few hours rest, and then you can be on your way again."
"Thank you."
"I'll send one of the chaps in with some food shortly," the Brigadier said. "It'll only be the usual Army fare, I'm afraid, but at least it will be hot."
She smiled up at him. "Hot food would be lovely, thank you."
"I will come back and see you again before you leave," the Doctor said, patting her hand.
Martha nodded gratefully, then slid down the bed to lie back, tired from her storytelling and the emergency surgery she'd received; the two men went out and she soon drifted off to sleep.
She was woken again some time later by someone discreetly clearing their throat, and she opened her eyes to see a face she recognised but could not immediately place.
"Hello Miss, sorry, Dr Jones," the young man corrected himself hastily. "The Brig sent me in with some food for you."
"Oh yes, thank you." She struggled to sit up and he immediately set down the tray he'd been carrying and moved to help her.
"Let me," he offered. She nodded and he helped her to sit up, then rearranged her pillows to support her back, before moving a table on an arm over the bed and putting the tray of food on it.
"I know your face," she said, looking up at him as he moved away.
He gave her a startled look. "You do?"
She nodded. "I can't recall your name, but I've seen your face somewhere before."
"My name's Benton miss, John Benton."
"Of course!" exclaimed Martha, excitedly. "Sergeant Benton!"
He blushed. "I'm not a Sergeant, just a Corporal."
"Not yet, maybe," she answered, "but you will be."
He was still blushing, she noticed, but she managed to persuade him to sit down and talk to her. "That's if you're not busy," she said belatedly, not wanting to get him into trouble.
"No, I'm free at the moment," he said shyly.
"Then stay and keep me company, please."
He agreed and she began to ask him questions as she ate the bowl of stew he'd brought for her. She soon discovered that he had a younger sister, and that this was his first encounter with the Doctor. He told her that he'd only been a member of UNIT for a little while since the organisation itself was still in its early days, and she found that he thought very highly of the Brigadier and that he considered the Doctor 'a queer sort of chap', but liked him immensely.
"He's got a real hang-dog face," Benton observed of the Doctor, "but there's - " he paused, as if embarrassed.
"Go on," Martha urged. "I won't repeat anything you say to me, I promise."
He gave her a grateful smile. "There's a mischievous look in his eyes sometimes," Benton said.
She smiled. "I noticed that too. This one still knows how to have fun."
"This one?" he asked curiously.
"Oh!" Belatedly Martha realised that he probably didn't know anything about the Doctor regenerating. He was giving an expectant look and she chewed at her lip for a moment.
"I can't explain what I mean, sorry," she said apologetically. "It might interfere with the timeline - even my being here at this moment is interfering."
"I understand Miss."
"Thank you." She gave him a smile and he blushed faintly again, which she found mildly amusing: somehow she tended not to think of soldiers blushing. Then she remembered Private Ross Jenkins who had, as her mother might have said, been a bit smitten with her when she'd first joined UNIT.
"Are you okay Miss?" asked Benton, interrupting Martha's melancholy remembrance.
"I'm fine," she said quickly, pushing aside the memory of attending Ross' funeral shortly after her impromptu trip to Messaline with the Doctor and Donna: there were too many sad memories there, of Ross, Jenny and Donna.
Martha finished her coffee and allowed Benton to remove the tray. "Thank you, and thank you for staying to talk to me."
"My pleasure Miss." He ducked his head to her, then went out, and she slid back down into the bed again.
* * * * * *
Martha slept for a couple of hours and she hadn't long woken up again when a young woman, barely out of her teens, came in trailing a feather boa that was wrapped stylishly around her neck. She gave Martha a bright smile and offered her a hand.
"Hello, I'm Zoe. The Doctor thought you might like some company."
Martha shook hands, noting the intelligent gaze that was trained on her. "Martha Jones," she said.
"The Doctor said you're from the future too," Zoe said casually.
"Too?" asked Martha. "You mean - you're not native to this era?"
The younger woman shook her head. "I'm from the 21st century. The Doctor and Jamie, that's his other companion, came to the Earth Space Station W3 where I was working. The Cybermen attacked it and killed all of the crew, except me."
"I'm sorry," Martha said. "I guess the Doctor rescued you then?"
"Oh no," Zoe said blithely. "I stowed away on his ship, the TARDIS, before they left, and after he found me he agreed that I could travel with them."
Martha blinked in surprise at this revelation. "Why did you stow away?"
"I wanted to see what was outside the Wheel. I grew up there, you know, and some of the station staff thought I was too unemotional because of my training - "
"Your training?" interrupted Martha, puzzled.
The younger woman nodded. "I'm an astrophysicist with a photographic memory and a degree in pure mathematics. I can perform complicated calculations at great speed and with 100% accuracy." Her face fell for a moment. "Leo Ryan said I was all brain and no heart."
Martha cocked an eyebrow at her, looking thoughtful. "How long have you been travelling with the Doctor?"
Zoe shrugged. "A few months, I think. It's hard to tell when you're on the TARDIS."
The young doctor nodded. "I know what you mean. Still, I doubt that your travels with the Doctor have failed to affect you. In my experience it tends to have a considerable impact." She chewed her lip for a moment. "Have the Doctor or Jamie given you the impression they think that you're heartless?"
Zoe shook her head. "No, they haven't."
"Then I wouldn't worry about it," advised Martha. "Why don't you tell me more about the space station? It hasn't happened yet for me."
"Okay," Zoe said brightly, settling into the chair that Benton had vacated earlier.
She began to tell Martha about the staff on the Wheel: Leo Ryan, a fair-haired giant who was handsome, confident and cheerful, but a little arrogant; Tanya Lernov, an attractive, fair haired young woman who was pleasant and claimed to follow her nose; Gemma Corwyn, a pleasant, sensible woman in her mid-thirties who was the Wheel's medical officer; Enrico Casali, the brown-eyed, curly-haired communications officer who was from an Italian family; and Jarvis Bennett, the Wheel's commander, a stocky, bearded, balding man who had been disinclined to believe in the existence of the Cybermen until it was too late.
"He was a sceptic," Zoe explained. "He simply couldn't accept the existence of phenomena outside the laws of science as we know them."
Martha frowned. "Not the best trait for a man in charge of a deep space station," she observed.
"No. Of course, he was forced to believe when the station was attacked by the Cybermen."
Martha couldn't help shuddering a little, remembering the Cybermen and Daleks battling at Canary Wharf, having to treat the injured in the aftermath, and discovering that her cousin Adeola had been killed by the Cybermen. She and Addy had been great friends as children - the fact that they looked more like twins than cousins had made them feel drawn to each other.
"Are you okay?" Zoe asked softly, her face full of concern as she interrupted Martha's train of thought.
"Yeah. I lost my cousin, she was killed by Cybermen," she explained, "mention of them gives me the shudders."
"Oh I am sorry!" exclaimed Zoe, looking remorseful.
"It's not your fault, you weren't to know, after all." She smiled and patted the younger woman's hand. "And your concern for me proves quite definitively that you're not 'all brain and no heart'."
Zoe smiled. "Thank you."
"Thank you. It was very interesting to learn of the Wheel. I'm just sorry that you lost your friends there."
"But if I hadn't, I probably would never have left the Wheel, or got to explore with Jamie and the Doctor."
"Well yes, that's true," Martha agreed thoughtfully.
Zoe got up. "I think I'll go and see if Jamie's awake yet," she said, "and leave you to rest again."
"Okay. Thanks for keeping me company," Martha said, shaking Zoe's hand. "Take care of yourself, and the Doctor and Jamie."
"Thank you. And you must be careful looking for the Doctor." She tripped out, looking sprightly and cheerful, and Martha watched her go with a smile, before settling back against her pillows again.
She noticed that her shoulder wasn't aching as much now, and felt grateful for whatever the Doctor had done to it after the bullet had been removed.
As if in answer to her thought, the door opened again, and the Doctor came in, smiling in a pleased fashion when he saw her sitting up.
"How are you feeling my dear?" he asked solicitously.
"Not too bad, thank you," she answered cheerfully.
"Good, good." He settled into a chair with a gentle smile. "I think you are very brave, you know, to go jumping through Time in search of me. I trust that I will thank you properly for displaying such courage."
Martha looked away, embarrassed by his proud expression and the compliment. "It's nothing," she said.
The Doctor reached out and took both her hands in his. "On the contrary, my dear, it is a very great thing. Travelling through the Time Vortex, where you might encounter all manner of creatures, while protected by nothing more than this device of your friend's - " He broke off, shaking his head. "I hardly like to think about it," he said.
"I've been okay so far," Martha said, "although I could have done without getting shot by the Brigadier's men."
He turned his mournful gaze on her. "And that's another thing," he said. "You said you were mistaken for an assassin by my next incarnation's travelling companion - you're very fortunate that you've only been shot once so far. It seems to me that I will continue to work with UNIT in the future, and you run the risk, therefore, of being shot again if I am with them. I think it would be a good idea to protect yourself against such risks."
"What can I do, though?" asked Martha.
"Well, I've been thinking about that," the Doctor answered. "You could wear a bullet-proof vest, but that doesn't protect the whole of your body. I propose, therefore, to adjust the controls on your friend's device so that it will shield you even when you're not in the Time Vortex."
"Thank you," she said, grateful for his proposal.
At his request she unstrapped Jack's wrist computer and passed it over, then watched in silent fascination as he pulled out an old-fashioned jeweller's eyepiece and his sonic screwdriver, and set to work.
After twenty minutes he pocketed the sonic and the eyepiece, then handed back the device.
"There you are, my dear. It won't stop everything, I'm afraid, but if anyone shoots at you, it will deaden the impact of the bullet. I cannot adjust I to bounce the bullet back in case it rebounds on whomever fires on you. Therefore, if you are shot, it will feel like someone has punched you, which will be painful obviously, but not as painful as if the bullet actually penetrated your body. I have also adjusted it so that you will not encounter me again."
Martha strapped on the wrist computer again feeling grateful and relieved for his assistance.
"Thank you very much Doctor." Impulsively she leaned forward and kissed his cheek, then smiled at the flustered expression on his face.
"Really my dear, it is quite the least I can do for you. I wish I could do more to help you."
"Well I'm grateful for what you have done. Every little helps, as the saying goes."
He beamed at her. "Now, I am afraid you must excuse me. I have other urgent matters to attend to. But I wish you luck in your search for me, and when you find him, tell him that I said he is to thank you properly. Dinner on Florana or something, and do not let him fob you off." He gave her a stern look. "I shall be very disappointed in you if you do."
Martha laughed softly. "I promise."
"Good girl." He stood up, took both her hands in his again, then leaned forward to kiss her forehead. "Look after yourself Martha Jones, and travel safely."
"Thank you, I'll do my best."
He smiled, squeezed her fingers, then bustled out, leaving her smiling fondly as she watched him go. He was quite the sweetest incarnation she had encountered so far, although his eighth incarnation came a very close second.
A few minutes after the Doctor departed, the Brigadier returned with another man in tow. The second man, a cheerful looking red-haired, green-eyed man asked her a few questions, checked the mobility of her arm and shoulder, then told her to be careful what she did with it, before bustling out again.
Martha wasn't sure whether to be cheered or alarmed by his insouciant manner, but the Brigadier seemed to regard it as perfectly normal, so she swallowed her misgivings and gave him an expectant look.
He sat down at her bedside. "Before you head off again, I thought you might be interested to learn about the origins of UNIT."
"I'd be very interested," Martha said promptly. "I've heard the bare bones history, I was given that when I joined, but that's not the same as hearing it from - if you'll forgive the expression - the horse's mouth."
He chuckled. "I'll forgive you," he assured her.
"I was just a Colonel the first time I met the Doctor, and London was under attack from something that I later found out was called the Great Intelligence, a disembodied entity that used robot Yeti and human servants that had been possessed to do its will. The Doctor and a scientist called Professor Travers were able to overcome it, sent it packing back into space, but I realised that now that the space program was in operation, we needed to have a central organisation to deal with intelligence about potential alien threats, and eventually, after some pestering of various government officials, UNIT was created."
The Brigadier went on to talk about the organisation of UNIT, its structure and chains of command, and Martha listened with rapt attention, surprising herself with how interesting she found this impromptu history lesson.
"I hope I haven't bored you with all this history?" the Brigadier asked when he'd finished. "You shouldn't have let me go on at such length."
"It was interesting," Martha answered truthfully. "Thank you for telling me."
"My pleasure Dr Jones." He got up and shook hands with her. "Good luck in your search for the Doctor."
"Thank you sir."
The Brigadier gave her a nod, then marched out, his swagger stick tucked under his arm. Now that she'd been given permission to leave, Martha was eager to be on her way again: she had no idea still where to find the Doctor or what was happening to him, but her sense of urgency had not lessened.
She got up and got dressed again, then set the controls on Jack's wrist computer to make the next jump.
* * * * * *
On Skra
The Doctor had been left by himself for three hours after he'd finished eating and he was feeling very bored. He'd tried reading, but his head still ached from the effects of the red line, so he'd put the book back in his coat pocket.
He'd played with his yo-yo for a bit, and eaten some jelly babies - but not too many as he didn't want them to run out before he was off Skra. Now he was playing cat's cradle with a length of string he'd found in his other pocket and wondering why he kept thinking Martha was going to appear at any moment. It was very distracting (he'd tied his fingers together twice), but he had this strange image of her in his head: she was appearing out of nowhere in a burst of blue light, like the light of the Vortex when the TARDIS travelled into the past.
He was distracted from pondering this baffling image by the sound of footsteps and he looked up to see Slavin crossing the room towards him. He immediately shoved the tangled string into his coat pocket and got to his feet.
"My master has arrived," Slavin said.
"Oh that's nice," said the Doctor cheerfully. "I look forward to meeting him and having a bit of chat, then we can sort out this nonsense and I can be on my way again."
"Silence!" snarled his captor. "You will come with me and if you are wise, you will hope that my master is inclined to be merciful, otherwise the remainder of your stay will be filled with enough pain that you will wish he had destroyed you centuries ago."
The Time Lord pulled an exaggeratedly dismal face, but didn't speak as Slavin grasped his elbow in a vice-like grip and lead him across the floor. He couldn't helping hesitating a bit as they approached the red line, but Slavin sneered at him, so he kept moving, trying not to brace himself for pain in spite of his instincts.
They stepped across the line and the Doctor let out a breath that he hadn't realised he'd been holding; he was half tempted to try his luck and make a dash for it, but Slavin must have guessed that he would consider it because he tightened his grip on the Doctor's arm until the Time Lord began to feel his fingers starting to go numb.
Slavin led him out of the room where he'd been held, then along two corridors and up a flight of stairs, emerging into a wide room that was cold, dank and poorly lit. The Doctor was tempted to comment on the lack of amenities, but managed to bite his tongue even though that went against the grain in this incarnation.
He was guided over to an upright wooden chair with arms, to which Slavin strapped the Time Lord's own arms and wrists, pulling the restraints uncomfortably tight.
"My master will be here in a moment," Slavin said, looking quite gleeful at the prospect, which didn't inspire any confidence in the Doctor.
"Well I can't say I'm looking forward to it," he replied.
A door opened on the opposite side of the room and Slavin stepped aside to allow the Time Lord to see who had ordered his capture.
"You've changed your face again, Doctor, I see. But you're still the same do-gooding nuisance you've always been, and still incapable of heeding warnings."
"The Black Guardian?" the Doctor said, disbelievingly.
Title: A Shift in Perspective (5/10)
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Martha, Second Doctor, Tenth Doctor, The Brigadier, Sgt Benton, Zoe
Rating: G
Spoilers: The Web of Fear, The Wheel in Space, The Invasion, S4
Summary: The Tenth Doctor goes missing and it's up to Martha Jones to track him down again, but it proves both harder and more instructive than she expects.
Disclaimer: I don't even own my brain any more, never mind Doctor Who!
Author Notes: This is the fifth chapter in a ten chapter story that's set a couple of months after S4. Credit goes to box_in_the_box for suggesting the villain of the piece.
Many thanks to my Beta readers for this chapter: laura_luvage, ladymako71 and most especially shadowturquoise, who has done sterling work in making sure this didn't utterly suck!
Index Post
~~~~~~
Martha's next jump was greeted with cries of alarm and a voice shouting "Don't shoot! Don't shoot!", but the instruction came too late because she felt a sharp pain in her left shoulder and heard the report of a gun. She struggled to focus on her surroundings even as darkness was overtaking her senses, and she caught a brief glimpse of a small man with a Beatles haircut and a look of shock on his face before she crashed unconscious to the ground.
When Martha came to again it was with a hiss of pain and she immediately reached over to her left shoulder to find a large dressing secured there. She squinted through half open eyes and found the man with the Beatles haircut watching her anxiously.
"How are you my dear?" he asked, patting her arm with nervous, fluttery gestures.
"Doctor?" she asked, remembering the third incarnation's reference to a fidgety little man.
He smiled, brightening his lugubrious expression. "Yes, that's me. I'm terribly sorry about your shoulder. I'm afraid the Brigadier's men are rather jumpy just at the moment."
"The Brigadier?" asked Martha, not quite daring to believe he meant Sir Alistair, even though she knew he'd known the Doctor for many years.
"That's me," said another voice from behind the Time Lord.
Martha felt her heart thumping at the sight of this younger version of the men she admired. He looked at least forty years younger: his hair and moustache were dark and neat, and his back was ramrod straight. His uniform was crisp and smart, and he had a swagger stick tucked under one arm. He looked the epitome of a no-nonsense military man, and Martha found herself sitting up to salute him.
"Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart. Dr Martha Jones, UNIT MO, reporting, sir."
He and the Doctor swapped looks of surprise before the Brigadier spoke.
"No need for that young lady," he assured her, "not when you're sick. I must apologise for my chap's lack of discipline, and I can assure you that he will be punished for his precipitate response."
"Oh, but it wasn't his fault," she objected quickly. "I'm sure he was just doing his job."
"Nevertheless, he had no business shooting an unarmed woman, no matter how sudden or unconventional the manner of her arrival."
"Yeah, I'm sorry about that," she said, feeling awkward.
"May we ask how it was possible for you to appear in such a manner?" asked the Doctor, looking very interested.
"You might want to sit down," she suggested. "It's a bit of a long story."
She waited while they both fetched chairs, taking the chance to have a proper look at her surroundings: she was in a small, white room which contained three beds but had no windows. The other two beds were empty, and the room looked similar to her own infirmary, apart from the lack of windows.
"By the way, where am I?" she asked as the Doctor and the Brigadier settled themselves beside her bed.
"This is a mobile UNIT HQ," the Brigadier told her. "We're actually onboard a Hercules transport plane."
She blinked, then nodded: that explained the lack of windows. By her day UNIT tended not use aircraft as mobile HQs except in emergency situations overseas.
"You were going to tell us your story," the Doctor reminded her gently.
"Yes, of course." She frowned, forcing herself to concentrate despite the dull ache in her shoulder and the lingering effects of the anaesthetic she'd been given when they'd removed the bullet, then she began her narrative. She was reminded of her year walking the world, telling the same story over and over again, but at least she wasn't being chased by Toclafane this time.
The two men listened with rapt attention: the Doctor seemed fascinated by her account, but she could tell the Brigadier was a little more sceptical, and she reminded herself that at this point he didn't have decades of experience of dealing with either the Doctor or the dozens of alien incursions that would happen between now and the time when she had met him in the aftermath of the ATMOS affair.
This Doctor also did not have centuries of experience behind him, and instead of the pain and darkness she was used to seeing in her Doctor's eyes, there was a child-like wonder lurking in his expression. He might have a naturally mournful face, but his eyes weren't haunted by loss and loneliness. She found herself wondering where his travelling companion was, and if there was more than one of them again.
"Well this is an incredible tale," observed the Brigadier, breaking the thoughtful silence that had followed the conclusion of Martha's narrative.
"Do you know who might have been responsible for kidnapping you, your later incarnation, I mean?" she asked the Doctor.
The little man shook his head sadly. "I am afraid not my dear."
She sighed quietly. "I guess I'll just have to keep searching for him then."
"I don't think you should go anywhere just yet though," he said. "After all, it's only a few hours since you were shot."
Martha opened her mouth, but before she could speak, the Brigadier interjected. "The Doctor is quite right. I cannot allow you to leave until my own MO assures me you're fit again."
"But that could take days," she protested, horrified.
The Doctor gave her a smile. "You can leave in a few hours time," he told her. "After the bullet was removed, I treated your wound myself. You just need some food and a few hours rest, and then you can be on your way again."
"Thank you."
"I'll send one of the chaps in with some food shortly," the Brigadier said. "It'll only be the usual Army fare, I'm afraid, but at least it will be hot."
She smiled up at him. "Hot food would be lovely, thank you."
"I will come back and see you again before you leave," the Doctor said, patting her hand.
Martha nodded gratefully, then slid down the bed to lie back, tired from her storytelling and the emergency surgery she'd received; the two men went out and she soon drifted off to sleep.
She was woken again some time later by someone discreetly clearing their throat, and she opened her eyes to see a face she recognised but could not immediately place.
"Hello Miss, sorry, Dr Jones," the young man corrected himself hastily. "The Brig sent me in with some food for you."
"Oh yes, thank you." She struggled to sit up and he immediately set down the tray he'd been carrying and moved to help her.
"Let me," he offered. She nodded and he helped her to sit up, then rearranged her pillows to support her back, before moving a table on an arm over the bed and putting the tray of food on it.
"I know your face," she said, looking up at him as he moved away.
He gave her a startled look. "You do?"
She nodded. "I can't recall your name, but I've seen your face somewhere before."
"My name's Benton miss, John Benton."
"Of course!" exclaimed Martha, excitedly. "Sergeant Benton!"
He blushed. "I'm not a Sergeant, just a Corporal."
"Not yet, maybe," she answered, "but you will be."
He was still blushing, she noticed, but she managed to persuade him to sit down and talk to her. "That's if you're not busy," she said belatedly, not wanting to get him into trouble.
"No, I'm free at the moment," he said shyly.
"Then stay and keep me company, please."
He agreed and she began to ask him questions as she ate the bowl of stew he'd brought for her. She soon discovered that he had a younger sister, and that this was his first encounter with the Doctor. He told her that he'd only been a member of UNIT for a little while since the organisation itself was still in its early days, and she found that he thought very highly of the Brigadier and that he considered the Doctor 'a queer sort of chap', but liked him immensely.
"He's got a real hang-dog face," Benton observed of the Doctor, "but there's - " he paused, as if embarrassed.
"Go on," Martha urged. "I won't repeat anything you say to me, I promise."
He gave her a grateful smile. "There's a mischievous look in his eyes sometimes," Benton said.
She smiled. "I noticed that too. This one still knows how to have fun."
"This one?" he asked curiously.
"Oh!" Belatedly Martha realised that he probably didn't know anything about the Doctor regenerating. He was giving an expectant look and she chewed at her lip for a moment.
"I can't explain what I mean, sorry," she said apologetically. "It might interfere with the timeline - even my being here at this moment is interfering."
"I understand Miss."
"Thank you." She gave him a smile and he blushed faintly again, which she found mildly amusing: somehow she tended not to think of soldiers blushing. Then she remembered Private Ross Jenkins who had, as her mother might have said, been a bit smitten with her when she'd first joined UNIT.
"Are you okay Miss?" asked Benton, interrupting Martha's melancholy remembrance.
"I'm fine," she said quickly, pushing aside the memory of attending Ross' funeral shortly after her impromptu trip to Messaline with the Doctor and Donna: there were too many sad memories there, of Ross, Jenny and Donna.
Martha finished her coffee and allowed Benton to remove the tray. "Thank you, and thank you for staying to talk to me."
"My pleasure Miss." He ducked his head to her, then went out, and she slid back down into the bed again.
* * * * * *
Martha slept for a couple of hours and she hadn't long woken up again when a young woman, barely out of her teens, came in trailing a feather boa that was wrapped stylishly around her neck. She gave Martha a bright smile and offered her a hand.
"Hello, I'm Zoe. The Doctor thought you might like some company."
Martha shook hands, noting the intelligent gaze that was trained on her. "Martha Jones," she said.
"The Doctor said you're from the future too," Zoe said casually.
"Too?" asked Martha. "You mean - you're not native to this era?"
The younger woman shook her head. "I'm from the 21st century. The Doctor and Jamie, that's his other companion, came to the Earth Space Station W3 where I was working. The Cybermen attacked it and killed all of the crew, except me."
"I'm sorry," Martha said. "I guess the Doctor rescued you then?"
"Oh no," Zoe said blithely. "I stowed away on his ship, the TARDIS, before they left, and after he found me he agreed that I could travel with them."
Martha blinked in surprise at this revelation. "Why did you stow away?"
"I wanted to see what was outside the Wheel. I grew up there, you know, and some of the station staff thought I was too unemotional because of my training - "
"Your training?" interrupted Martha, puzzled.
The younger woman nodded. "I'm an astrophysicist with a photographic memory and a degree in pure mathematics. I can perform complicated calculations at great speed and with 100% accuracy." Her face fell for a moment. "Leo Ryan said I was all brain and no heart."
Martha cocked an eyebrow at her, looking thoughtful. "How long have you been travelling with the Doctor?"
Zoe shrugged. "A few months, I think. It's hard to tell when you're on the TARDIS."
The young doctor nodded. "I know what you mean. Still, I doubt that your travels with the Doctor have failed to affect you. In my experience it tends to have a considerable impact." She chewed her lip for a moment. "Have the Doctor or Jamie given you the impression they think that you're heartless?"
Zoe shook her head. "No, they haven't."
"Then I wouldn't worry about it," advised Martha. "Why don't you tell me more about the space station? It hasn't happened yet for me."
"Okay," Zoe said brightly, settling into the chair that Benton had vacated earlier.
She began to tell Martha about the staff on the Wheel: Leo Ryan, a fair-haired giant who was handsome, confident and cheerful, but a little arrogant; Tanya Lernov, an attractive, fair haired young woman who was pleasant and claimed to follow her nose; Gemma Corwyn, a pleasant, sensible woman in her mid-thirties who was the Wheel's medical officer; Enrico Casali, the brown-eyed, curly-haired communications officer who was from an Italian family; and Jarvis Bennett, the Wheel's commander, a stocky, bearded, balding man who had been disinclined to believe in the existence of the Cybermen until it was too late.
"He was a sceptic," Zoe explained. "He simply couldn't accept the existence of phenomena outside the laws of science as we know them."
Martha frowned. "Not the best trait for a man in charge of a deep space station," she observed.
"No. Of course, he was forced to believe when the station was attacked by the Cybermen."
Martha couldn't help shuddering a little, remembering the Cybermen and Daleks battling at Canary Wharf, having to treat the injured in the aftermath, and discovering that her cousin Adeola had been killed by the Cybermen. She and Addy had been great friends as children - the fact that they looked more like twins than cousins had made them feel drawn to each other.
"Are you okay?" Zoe asked softly, her face full of concern as she interrupted Martha's train of thought.
"Yeah. I lost my cousin, she was killed by Cybermen," she explained, "mention of them gives me the shudders."
"Oh I am sorry!" exclaimed Zoe, looking remorseful.
"It's not your fault, you weren't to know, after all." She smiled and patted the younger woman's hand. "And your concern for me proves quite definitively that you're not 'all brain and no heart'."
Zoe smiled. "Thank you."
"Thank you. It was very interesting to learn of the Wheel. I'm just sorry that you lost your friends there."
"But if I hadn't, I probably would never have left the Wheel, or got to explore with Jamie and the Doctor."
"Well yes, that's true," Martha agreed thoughtfully.
Zoe got up. "I think I'll go and see if Jamie's awake yet," she said, "and leave you to rest again."
"Okay. Thanks for keeping me company," Martha said, shaking Zoe's hand. "Take care of yourself, and the Doctor and Jamie."
"Thank you. And you must be careful looking for the Doctor." She tripped out, looking sprightly and cheerful, and Martha watched her go with a smile, before settling back against her pillows again.
She noticed that her shoulder wasn't aching as much now, and felt grateful for whatever the Doctor had done to it after the bullet had been removed.
As if in answer to her thought, the door opened again, and the Doctor came in, smiling in a pleased fashion when he saw her sitting up.
"How are you feeling my dear?" he asked solicitously.
"Not too bad, thank you," she answered cheerfully.
"Good, good." He settled into a chair with a gentle smile. "I think you are very brave, you know, to go jumping through Time in search of me. I trust that I will thank you properly for displaying such courage."
Martha looked away, embarrassed by his proud expression and the compliment. "It's nothing," she said.
The Doctor reached out and took both her hands in his. "On the contrary, my dear, it is a very great thing. Travelling through the Time Vortex, where you might encounter all manner of creatures, while protected by nothing more than this device of your friend's - " He broke off, shaking his head. "I hardly like to think about it," he said.
"I've been okay so far," Martha said, "although I could have done without getting shot by the Brigadier's men."
He turned his mournful gaze on her. "And that's another thing," he said. "You said you were mistaken for an assassin by my next incarnation's travelling companion - you're very fortunate that you've only been shot once so far. It seems to me that I will continue to work with UNIT in the future, and you run the risk, therefore, of being shot again if I am with them. I think it would be a good idea to protect yourself against such risks."
"What can I do, though?" asked Martha.
"Well, I've been thinking about that," the Doctor answered. "You could wear a bullet-proof vest, but that doesn't protect the whole of your body. I propose, therefore, to adjust the controls on your friend's device so that it will shield you even when you're not in the Time Vortex."
"Thank you," she said, grateful for his proposal.
At his request she unstrapped Jack's wrist computer and passed it over, then watched in silent fascination as he pulled out an old-fashioned jeweller's eyepiece and his sonic screwdriver, and set to work.
After twenty minutes he pocketed the sonic and the eyepiece, then handed back the device.
"There you are, my dear. It won't stop everything, I'm afraid, but if anyone shoots at you, it will deaden the impact of the bullet. I cannot adjust I to bounce the bullet back in case it rebounds on whomever fires on you. Therefore, if you are shot, it will feel like someone has punched you, which will be painful obviously, but not as painful as if the bullet actually penetrated your body. I have also adjusted it so that you will not encounter me again."
Martha strapped on the wrist computer again feeling grateful and relieved for his assistance.
"Thank you very much Doctor." Impulsively she leaned forward and kissed his cheek, then smiled at the flustered expression on his face.
"Really my dear, it is quite the least I can do for you. I wish I could do more to help you."
"Well I'm grateful for what you have done. Every little helps, as the saying goes."
He beamed at her. "Now, I am afraid you must excuse me. I have other urgent matters to attend to. But I wish you luck in your search for me, and when you find him, tell him that I said he is to thank you properly. Dinner on Florana or something, and do not let him fob you off." He gave her a stern look. "I shall be very disappointed in you if you do."
Martha laughed softly. "I promise."
"Good girl." He stood up, took both her hands in his again, then leaned forward to kiss her forehead. "Look after yourself Martha Jones, and travel safely."
"Thank you, I'll do my best."
He smiled, squeezed her fingers, then bustled out, leaving her smiling fondly as she watched him go. He was quite the sweetest incarnation she had encountered so far, although his eighth incarnation came a very close second.
A few minutes after the Doctor departed, the Brigadier returned with another man in tow. The second man, a cheerful looking red-haired, green-eyed man asked her a few questions, checked the mobility of her arm and shoulder, then told her to be careful what she did with it, before bustling out again.
Martha wasn't sure whether to be cheered or alarmed by his insouciant manner, but the Brigadier seemed to regard it as perfectly normal, so she swallowed her misgivings and gave him an expectant look.
He sat down at her bedside. "Before you head off again, I thought you might be interested to learn about the origins of UNIT."
"I'd be very interested," Martha said promptly. "I've heard the bare bones history, I was given that when I joined, but that's not the same as hearing it from - if you'll forgive the expression - the horse's mouth."
He chuckled. "I'll forgive you," he assured her.
"I was just a Colonel the first time I met the Doctor, and London was under attack from something that I later found out was called the Great Intelligence, a disembodied entity that used robot Yeti and human servants that had been possessed to do its will. The Doctor and a scientist called Professor Travers were able to overcome it, sent it packing back into space, but I realised that now that the space program was in operation, we needed to have a central organisation to deal with intelligence about potential alien threats, and eventually, after some pestering of various government officials, UNIT was created."
The Brigadier went on to talk about the organisation of UNIT, its structure and chains of command, and Martha listened with rapt attention, surprising herself with how interesting she found this impromptu history lesson.
"I hope I haven't bored you with all this history?" the Brigadier asked when he'd finished. "You shouldn't have let me go on at such length."
"It was interesting," Martha answered truthfully. "Thank you for telling me."
"My pleasure Dr Jones." He got up and shook hands with her. "Good luck in your search for the Doctor."
"Thank you sir."
The Brigadier gave her a nod, then marched out, his swagger stick tucked under his arm. Now that she'd been given permission to leave, Martha was eager to be on her way again: she had no idea still where to find the Doctor or what was happening to him, but her sense of urgency had not lessened.
She got up and got dressed again, then set the controls on Jack's wrist computer to make the next jump.
* * * * * *
On Skra
The Doctor had been left by himself for three hours after he'd finished eating and he was feeling very bored. He'd tried reading, but his head still ached from the effects of the red line, so he'd put the book back in his coat pocket.
He'd played with his yo-yo for a bit, and eaten some jelly babies - but not too many as he didn't want them to run out before he was off Skra. Now he was playing cat's cradle with a length of string he'd found in his other pocket and wondering why he kept thinking Martha was going to appear at any moment. It was very distracting (he'd tied his fingers together twice), but he had this strange image of her in his head: she was appearing out of nowhere in a burst of blue light, like the light of the Vortex when the TARDIS travelled into the past.
He was distracted from pondering this baffling image by the sound of footsteps and he looked up to see Slavin crossing the room towards him. He immediately shoved the tangled string into his coat pocket and got to his feet.
"My master has arrived," Slavin said.
"Oh that's nice," said the Doctor cheerfully. "I look forward to meeting him and having a bit of chat, then we can sort out this nonsense and I can be on my way again."
"Silence!" snarled his captor. "You will come with me and if you are wise, you will hope that my master is inclined to be merciful, otherwise the remainder of your stay will be filled with enough pain that you will wish he had destroyed you centuries ago."
The Time Lord pulled an exaggeratedly dismal face, but didn't speak as Slavin grasped his elbow in a vice-like grip and lead him across the floor. He couldn't helping hesitating a bit as they approached the red line, but Slavin sneered at him, so he kept moving, trying not to brace himself for pain in spite of his instincts.
They stepped across the line and the Doctor let out a breath that he hadn't realised he'd been holding; he was half tempted to try his luck and make a dash for it, but Slavin must have guessed that he would consider it because he tightened his grip on the Doctor's arm until the Time Lord began to feel his fingers starting to go numb.
Slavin led him out of the room where he'd been held, then along two corridors and up a flight of stairs, emerging into a wide room that was cold, dank and poorly lit. The Doctor was tempted to comment on the lack of amenities, but managed to bite his tongue even though that went against the grain in this incarnation.
He was guided over to an upright wooden chair with arms, to which Slavin strapped the Time Lord's own arms and wrists, pulling the restraints uncomfortably tight.
"My master will be here in a moment," Slavin said, looking quite gleeful at the prospect, which didn't inspire any confidence in the Doctor.
"Well I can't say I'm looking forward to it," he replied.
A door opened on the opposite side of the room and Slavin stepped aside to allow the Time Lord to see who had ordered his capture.
"You've changed your face again, Doctor, I see. But you're still the same do-gooding nuisance you've always been, and still incapable of heeding warnings."
"The Black Guardian?" the Doctor said, disbelievingly.