001: Have You Met Miss Jones? [Holo]
Martha Jones appeared in Taxon wearing a wedding dress and a frown.
“Oh, you have got to be …”
In a rustle of silk and chiffon, she stepped off the platform, lowering her bouquet to put her hands on her hips and survey her surroundings. The technology was clearly advanced, but it lacked the life and warmth of the TARDIS or the cheerful haphazardness of the Hub. She didn’t know who - or what - had made the transportation device and the fact that it clearly wasn’t Sontaran didn’t make her feel any better. The Earth had plenty of enemies. (And Martha - or, more accurately, one of Martha’s closest friends - had even more.)
“This is Doctor Martha Jones of the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce.” Her voice was calm, crisp and official, though she wished that she’d had the presence of mind to tuck her ID card in amongst the flowers. She should have known better than to expect a smooth wedding day. “I don’t know who you are or what you want, but, believe me, kidnapping me isn’t going to help you.”
She noticed the bracelet on her wrist before she noticed the tablet. The metal - was it silver, or was it just an alien ore that looked a lot like silver? - was cold and, even more worryingly, it seemed to be fused directly to her skin. Martha gave it a tentative tug, before raising her hand to examine it properly. Oh my god. She’d been tagged, like some sort of pet. Like some sort of experiment.
“Send me home,” she demanded, in a sharp tone that she hadn’t used before. Anger - not fear, definitely not fear - bubbled up in her chest as she discarded her bouquet and picked up the tablet. (The same unusual metal, but the layout reminded her of a mobile phone or one of the sleek devices that Tosh had liked to customise for her colleagues.) “I’m supposed to be getting married today and, believe me, you don’t want to get on the wrong side of some of my wedding guests.”
“Oh, you have got to be …”
In a rustle of silk and chiffon, she stepped off the platform, lowering her bouquet to put her hands on her hips and survey her surroundings. The technology was clearly advanced, but it lacked the life and warmth of the TARDIS or the cheerful haphazardness of the Hub. She didn’t know who - or what - had made the transportation device and the fact that it clearly wasn’t Sontaran didn’t make her feel any better. The Earth had plenty of enemies. (And Martha - or, more accurately, one of Martha’s closest friends - had even more.)
“This is Doctor Martha Jones of the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce.” Her voice was calm, crisp and official, though she wished that she’d had the presence of mind to tuck her ID card in amongst the flowers. She should have known better than to expect a smooth wedding day. “I don’t know who you are or what you want, but, believe me, kidnapping me isn’t going to help you.”
She noticed the bracelet on her wrist before she noticed the tablet. The metal - was it silver, or was it just an alien ore that looked a lot like silver? - was cold and, even more worryingly, it seemed to be fused directly to her skin. Martha gave it a tentative tug, before raising her hand to examine it properly. Oh my god. She’d been tagged, like some sort of pet. Like some sort of experiment.
“Send me home,” she demanded, in a sharp tone that she hadn’t used before. Anger - not fear, definitely not fear - bubbled up in her chest as she discarded her bouquet and picked up the tablet. (The same unusual metal, but the layout reminded her of a mobile phone or one of the sleek devices that Tosh had liked to customise for her colleagues.) “I’m supposed to be getting married today and, believe me, you don’t want to get on the wrong side of some of my wedding guests.”