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lizbeeSummary: How Martha got her new job.
Notes: Based on a line in Torchwood's "Reset". Spoilers for "Last of the Time Lords" and "Voyage of the Damned".
Rated: G
An Impeccable Source
by LizBee
Bambera leaned back in her chair, steepled her fingers and said, "I'm not entirely sure you understand how UNIT works, Doctor."
"What do you mean, don't understand?" Bodies might change, Bambera mused, but the indignant outrage appeared to be a constant. "UNIT -- fights aliens, gets shot at, more open than Torchwood and less scary than the Department of Homeland Security--" Bambera decided not to ask how he knew about that, but decency and a couple of mutual intelligence treaties probably required her to let the Americans know their cover was blown -- "and you have those little hats. Blue, aren't they?"
"Red," said Bambera despite herself. "Didn't want to be mistaken for a peacekeeping force."
"Yeah, well. But you're still the good guys. More or less. And I really think--"
"My point," said Bambera, before the Doctor could go off on another tangent, "is that this is an elite organisation, not a -- we're not going to give a job to any girl who's worked as your assistant."
"Assistant? Martha wasn't my assistant -- partner, maybe. Posh and Becks, that was us, only without the perfume contract, and she's not entirely human, you know -- well, you only have to watch a couple of Spice Girls videos to see that, but he loves her, and that's all that matters. Um... what was I talking about?"
"Martha Jones. The hiring thereof."
"Right!" Was it some kind of post-traumatic stress disorder, Bambera wondered, leftover from his experiences on the Valiant, or maybe it was an alien version of ADHD. Her second son had been expelled from school after the incident with the sword -- the principal had recommended medication, but she and Ancelyn had agreed that proper training and a bit of military discipline were all that were needed, and now Christopher was excelling in his new school and was, for example, a popular figure at Renaissance Faires. "You should hire Martha," the Doctor was saying, "because she's good. Brilliant. Dead brilliant, did I tell you how she saved my life on the moon?"
"Twice."
"And walking around the world, you can't say she hasn't picked up some military skills, not that she really needs them to work with UNIT, but I know how much you lot appreciate it when the recruits know which bit of a grenade to throw--"
Was that a reference to an incident under Lethbridge-Stewart's time, or merely the product of a fevered alien imagination? The problem with the Doctor was that he never gave any warning before he turned up, and she liked to have at least a fortnight to peruse his files before she saw him. Instead, she'd skimmed a couple of old reports while he rambled about her interior decorating.
"Doctor," she said when he'd finally wound down, "much as we appreciate your support for our recruiting processes--"
"Was that sarcasm?"
"--And as much as we respect your opinion, we're simply not going to offer a highly sensitive position to a stranger merely because she traveled with you." Not after the Jovanka incident, anyway. "We will, however," she added quickly, forestalling his interruption, "give Miss Jones our attention."
"Right. Good. That's all I ask." The Doctor bounded to his feet, adding, "Oh, and if you run across an elderly man waxing lyrical about domestic architecture, he's perfectly harmless, just new to the planet. Maybe show him around a bit. He only arrived at Christmas."
Bambera had already assigned a team to assist the gentleman in question with his assimilation on Earth, but she just nodded politely.
"And give my love to the Brigadier -- not you, I mean--"
"I will," said Bambera, "thank you, Doctor."
Fortunately, he took the hint, leaving her office as quickly as he'd entered.
Bambera made sure the door was locked, before she retreated behind her desk and laughed until there were tears in her eyes. When her howls had subsided into muffled chuckles, she returned to the file she'd been reading before the Doctor interrupted.
Martha Jones, the report was headed. She'd read each account until it was almost committed to memory; her soldiers' debriefings on the Valiant Year, the Master's crimes, the Doctor's incapacitation, and Martha Jones. Who had saved the world.
Bambera began to laugh again.
When she'd finally composed herself, she reached for the phone, flipped through to the back page of the report, and dialed the number it listed.
"Hello?"
"Doctor Jones. My name is Winifred Bambera. I have an offer in which you might be interested."
end
Notes: Based on a line in Torchwood's "Reset". Spoilers for "Last of the Time Lords" and "Voyage of the Damned".
Rated: G
An Impeccable Source
by LizBee
Bambera leaned back in her chair, steepled her fingers and said, "I'm not entirely sure you understand how UNIT works, Doctor."
"What do you mean, don't understand?" Bodies might change, Bambera mused, but the indignant outrage appeared to be a constant. "UNIT -- fights aliens, gets shot at, more open than Torchwood and less scary than the Department of Homeland Security--" Bambera decided not to ask how he knew about that, but decency and a couple of mutual intelligence treaties probably required her to let the Americans know their cover was blown -- "and you have those little hats. Blue, aren't they?"
"Red," said Bambera despite herself. "Didn't want to be mistaken for a peacekeeping force."
"Yeah, well. But you're still the good guys. More or less. And I really think--"
"My point," said Bambera, before the Doctor could go off on another tangent, "is that this is an elite organisation, not a -- we're not going to give a job to any girl who's worked as your assistant."
"Assistant? Martha wasn't my assistant -- partner, maybe. Posh and Becks, that was us, only without the perfume contract, and she's not entirely human, you know -- well, you only have to watch a couple of Spice Girls videos to see that, but he loves her, and that's all that matters. Um... what was I talking about?"
"Martha Jones. The hiring thereof."
"Right!" Was it some kind of post-traumatic stress disorder, Bambera wondered, leftover from his experiences on the Valiant, or maybe it was an alien version of ADHD. Her second son had been expelled from school after the incident with the sword -- the principal had recommended medication, but she and Ancelyn had agreed that proper training and a bit of military discipline were all that were needed, and now Christopher was excelling in his new school and was, for example, a popular figure at Renaissance Faires. "You should hire Martha," the Doctor was saying, "because she's good. Brilliant. Dead brilliant, did I tell you how she saved my life on the moon?"
"Twice."
"And walking around the world, you can't say she hasn't picked up some military skills, not that she really needs them to work with UNIT, but I know how much you lot appreciate it when the recruits know which bit of a grenade to throw--"
Was that a reference to an incident under Lethbridge-Stewart's time, or merely the product of a fevered alien imagination? The problem with the Doctor was that he never gave any warning before he turned up, and she liked to have at least a fortnight to peruse his files before she saw him. Instead, she'd skimmed a couple of old reports while he rambled about her interior decorating.
"Doctor," she said when he'd finally wound down, "much as we appreciate your support for our recruiting processes--"
"Was that sarcasm?"
"--And as much as we respect your opinion, we're simply not going to offer a highly sensitive position to a stranger merely because she traveled with you." Not after the Jovanka incident, anyway. "We will, however," she added quickly, forestalling his interruption, "give Miss Jones our attention."
"Right. Good. That's all I ask." The Doctor bounded to his feet, adding, "Oh, and if you run across an elderly man waxing lyrical about domestic architecture, he's perfectly harmless, just new to the planet. Maybe show him around a bit. He only arrived at Christmas."
Bambera had already assigned a team to assist the gentleman in question with his assimilation on Earth, but she just nodded politely.
"And give my love to the Brigadier -- not you, I mean--"
"I will," said Bambera, "thank you, Doctor."
Fortunately, he took the hint, leaving her office as quickly as he'd entered.
Bambera made sure the door was locked, before she retreated behind her desk and laughed until there were tears in her eyes. When her howls had subsided into muffled chuckles, she returned to the file she'd been reading before the Doctor interrupted.
Martha Jones, the report was headed. She'd read each account until it was almost committed to memory; her soldiers' debriefings on the Valiant Year, the Master's crimes, the Doctor's incapacitation, and Martha Jones. Who had saved the world.
Bambera began to laugh again.
When she'd finally composed herself, she reached for the phone, flipped through to the back page of the report, and dialed the number it listed.
"Hello?"
"Doctor Jones. My name is Winifred Bambera. I have an offer in which you might be interested."
end
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no subject
Date: 2008-02-14 11:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-14 11:31 pm (UTC)Exactly. OMG BAMBERA. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU.
/has no brains left, sorry
no subject
Date: 2008-02-15 12:06 am (UTC)Ahaha, Bambera and Ancelyn's son! "a popular figure at Renaissance Faires" Bwahahaha! There needs to be a fic of him grown-up and working for UNIT (or even Torchwood, if his momma allowed it) fighting aliens with his father's sword.
no subject
Date: 2008-02-15 01:00 am (UTC)Thank you. :-)
no subject
Date: 2008-02-15 01:24 am (UTC)This was lovely. A fabulous sequence of gems of sentences that make me so very happy I've found this show.
(Jovanka incident?)
no subject
Date: 2008-02-15 01:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-15 02:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-15 02:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-15 02:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-15 03:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-15 05:30 am (UTC)Enjoyed it even more for the fact I actually watched "Battlefield" last weekend so I understood everything in it...
no subject
Date: 2008-02-15 09:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-15 01:38 pm (UTC)You going to post it elsewhere too?
no subject
Date: 2008-02-15 09:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-15 03:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-16 07:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-17 04:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-19 06:55 am (UTC)(Post to