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locker_monsterTitle: The Other Side of the World (20/31)
Rating: PG
Characters: Rose, Martha
Timeline: Season three
Summary: Season three AU; After a fateful visit to Royal Hope Hospital, Rose finds herself lost in time and space with medical student Martha Jones. As they struggle to find a way home, they meet old friends, and old enemies, along the way...
Disclaimer: These characters aren't mine. Any borrowed dialogue belongs to Russell T Davies and the BBC.
A/N: A sequel to "The Other Side". It's not necessary reading; it just sets up the premise that it was the Doctor who was trapped in Pete's World, not Rose. And a shout-out to my awesome betas:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
joking and quean_of_swords. This story wouldn't have been posted without you guys.
Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight. Chapter Nine. Chapter Ten. Chapter Eleven. Chapter Twelve. Chapter Thirteen. Chapter Fourteen. Chapter Fifteen. Chapter Sixteen. Chapter Seventeen. Chapter Eighteen. Chapter Nineteen.
The world was potentially ending and Martha was watching television.
Since Jack had failed to give her an assignment, whether carelessly or on purpose, she couldn’t tell, she had given herself one. She couldn’t leave the pump house, not if she wanted to avoid being caught by the Master’s satellites, so she had turned to the only source within the building that let her glimpse the outside world.
Every single news channel, from legitimate news stations to the celebrity gossip shows, was covering the Master’s announcement. Aliens had come to Earth before, but never with peaceful intentions. The human race was sitting on the cusp of a new era.
Martha paused on an American news station – the television picked up a surprising number of stations despite being in a cage meant to block out signals – and listened to the news reader. “The President is said to be furious that Great Britain has taken unilateral action…”
“What did she say?” Ianto’s voice called to her from across the cage. He, Gwen, and Jack were gathered around a small card table, poring over all the documents Rose had sent Torchwood.
She lowered the sound on the television. “It sounds like the President is coming to London. He wants to turn control of first contact over to the U.N.”
Ianto silently took this in as his gaze fell to the floor. His lips moved, like he was reciting something, but he spoke no words. After a few seconds, his head snapped up and he looked at Jack. “Security Council. First Contact policy. 1968. It states first contact cannot take place on sovereign soil.”
“You can remember that?” Martha asked, incredulously.
“The U.N.” Gwen began shifting through the papers. “They’re responsible for UNIT, aren’t they?”
“The Valiant,” said Ianto, realizing what Gwen was getting at. “It’s a UNIT ship. Designed by Harold Saxon when he was at the Ministry of Defence.”
“Rose sent us the schematics and entry codes good for three months.” The right file finally found, Gwen handed it to Jack.
He skimmed through the pages. “The Master must have built it, knowing he would broadcast first contact to the entire world,” mused Jack. “It’s a ready made stage.” He jumped to his feet. “Pack any gear we might need. We’re boarding the Valiant.”
The Torchwood team immediately went to work, gathering up everything they thought they might need, which included weapons. Gwen and Ianto dug out a cache of small handguns, all easily hidden under a coat or in the back of a waistband. Martha had never fired a gun in her life and seeing so many guns in one place made her feel uneasy. In her line of work, she strove to save lives.
She cornered Jack just before the team was ready to leave. “You’re going to kill the Master.” Each team member was carrying a gun.
“If we have to. It’s him or the world, Martha.” Jack’s simplistic way of looking at the situation was slightly unnerving. Killing a person, even someone as wicked as the Master, shouldn’t have been the first solution. She hadn’t questioned the nature of Torchwood until that moment. They fought aliens, but at what cost?
The six of them hurried through the tunnel, unmindful of the puddles as they headed back to the abandoned warehouse and the van. They were risking being spotted by the Master, but they had no choice. The only hope they had was that the Master was too busy playing Prime Minster to notice their movements. Owen took the wheel once more and they started the drive to the west of London. Jack claimed a RAF station there was their best opportunity to get aboard the Valiant.
Night had already fallen by the time they got on the road. Martha was ready to fall asleep. She had slept a little before she and Rose arrived in Cardiff, but that felt like years ago rather than hours. Landing in the year 100 trillion and running for dear life away from flesh hungry mutants could be rather draining. She yearned for a long shower, a change of clothes, and a hot cup of tea, but she knew she wouldn’t receive any of these any time soon.
They rode in silence for an hour before they came upon the station. On Jack’s instruction, Owen drove past the civilian entrance. He parked the van a few miles down the road before they ditched the vehicle next to the high hedge wall that blocked the station from the public.
“Don’t tell me we’re just going to walk right in,” whispered Martha.
Jack reached into the pack Tosh was carrying and came back with what looked like a compact chainsaw. “We’re going through the hedge.”
It seemed a bit ridiculous, like something out of a cartoon, but Jack cut a hole large enough for them to slip through. Once on the other side, there were no alarms or guard dogs to chase them down. The poor security would have been a bother but right now, it was a blessing.
They sneaked across a small field, headed towards one of the runways. She felt exposed in the open air but she trailed after Jack and the others, confident in their infiltration techniques. It wasn’t long before they came upon a small cargo plane waiting to take flight with its crew. Soldiers bustled around the plane, their guns and black fatigues making it obvious what their role was. The uniforms were topped off with a red beret, which stood in contrast with the rest of the garb.
“UNIT soldiers,” muttered Jack.
“You couldn’t have known they would be here,” said Owen. They watched the soldiers from the relative safety of some deep shadows cast by tall shrubbery.
“Northolt’s out of the way and more low key than Heathrow. If you want to transport a squadron of soldiers, you do it from here.”
“You’ve been here before,” said Gwen.
“Probably,” Jack said good-naturedly despite the tense situation they were in. “All these RAF stations look the same.”
An opportunity suddenly presented itself as the soldiers loading the plane headed back to the hangar. With the possibility that the soldiers were leaving to retrieve the rest of the troops, the team wasted no time creeping as fast as they could across the runway towards the hold of the plane. Martha tried to follow as silently as she could, but her shoes made shuffling noises no matter what.
Jack and Ianto forced open the hatch to the hold. Crates secured under tarpaulins and canvas straps took up most of the space.
“Under the tarps,” urged Jack. It was a tight squeeze, even with Martha’s smaller frame. Tosh managed to sneak in beside her while the others found their own hiding places. She couldn’t imagine Jack trying to fit into the awkward space. Hopefully none of the soldiers came by to check the cargo before take-off.
It was freezing within the cargo hold and Martha tried to quell the chattering of her teeth. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket and tried to think warm thoughts. Minutes passed before the plane’s engines powered up though it felt like eternity. In the pitch darkness, she had no sense of orientation. The only clue that the plane had gained altitude was when her ears popped.
Confined against a wooden crate, Martha’s legs quickly fell asleep. The next time she had to fly, she wouldn’t be complaining about the small amount of leg room her seat provided. It was a luxury compared to her current situation. Though it was noisy in the hold, she didn’t dare speak in case her whispers gave them away. For an advanced and secretive team like Torchwood, this method of infiltration felt beneath them and she didn’t want to be the one to ruin the haphazard plan, so she closed her eyes and tried not to think about how they were on their way to murder the Prime Minister of Great Britain.
With no reference, the passage of time slowed to nothing. Martha could have been back in the TARDIS, a timeless passenger hopping from one era to the next. She drifted off and it was only a hard jolt that snapped her awake and out of her shallow slumber. She attempted to move her legs but they were stiff from lack of blood flow. The plane’s engines slowly ground to a halt.
Someone threw back the tarp and in the dim light Martha barely made out Jack’s form, the silhouette of his long coat giving him away. She all but stumbled out of the hold as the feeling slowly returned to her lower extremities.
Taking a quick look around, she guessed they were in another hangar. Beyond the hangar doors she could see a runway but then beyond that there was nothing but sky. Wherever they were, morning had dawned.
A harsh tug on her arm yanked her back to reality. Jack pulled her behind some metal barrels as the UNIT soldiers began to file off the plane. Martha squeezed her eyes shut, as if that would make her invisible. When she no longer heard the muffled stomps of boots, she opened her eyes.
“Where are we?” she hissed at Jack.
“This is the Valiant.” Noting that it was safe to emerge, he motioned for her to rise. Across the hangar, the others appeared from their concealed places.
“Where’s the sea?” All she could hear, aside from the Valiant’s mechanics, was a strong wind. No water lapped at the hull of the ship.
“A ship for the 21st century.” Jack brought her to the edge of the hangar and she looked out over the runway again. It was an endless blue, punctuated by white clouds, not rolling waves. “Protecting the skies of planet Earth.”
Martha let out an amazed sigh, but it hid her shiver of trepidation as well. There was no turning back now.
Rating: PG
Characters: Rose, Martha
Timeline: Season three
Summary: Season three AU; After a fateful visit to Royal Hope Hospital, Rose finds herself lost in time and space with medical student Martha Jones. As they struggle to find a way home, they meet old friends, and old enemies, along the way...
Disclaimer: These characters aren't mine. Any borrowed dialogue belongs to Russell T Davies and the BBC.
A/N: A sequel to "The Other Side". It's not necessary reading; it just sets up the premise that it was the Doctor who was trapped in Pete's World, not Rose. And a shout-out to my awesome betas:
joking and quean_of_swords. This story wouldn't have been posted without you guys.Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight. Chapter Nine. Chapter Ten. Chapter Eleven. Chapter Twelve. Chapter Thirteen. Chapter Fourteen. Chapter Fifteen. Chapter Sixteen. Chapter Seventeen. Chapter Eighteen. Chapter Nineteen.
The world was potentially ending and Martha was watching television.
Since Jack had failed to give her an assignment, whether carelessly or on purpose, she couldn’t tell, she had given herself one. She couldn’t leave the pump house, not if she wanted to avoid being caught by the Master’s satellites, so she had turned to the only source within the building that let her glimpse the outside world.
Every single news channel, from legitimate news stations to the celebrity gossip shows, was covering the Master’s announcement. Aliens had come to Earth before, but never with peaceful intentions. The human race was sitting on the cusp of a new era.
Martha paused on an American news station – the television picked up a surprising number of stations despite being in a cage meant to block out signals – and listened to the news reader. “The President is said to be furious that Great Britain has taken unilateral action…”
“What did she say?” Ianto’s voice called to her from across the cage. He, Gwen, and Jack were gathered around a small card table, poring over all the documents Rose had sent Torchwood.
She lowered the sound on the television. “It sounds like the President is coming to London. He wants to turn control of first contact over to the U.N.”
Ianto silently took this in as his gaze fell to the floor. His lips moved, like he was reciting something, but he spoke no words. After a few seconds, his head snapped up and he looked at Jack. “Security Council. First Contact policy. 1968. It states first contact cannot take place on sovereign soil.”
“You can remember that?” Martha asked, incredulously.
“The U.N.” Gwen began shifting through the papers. “They’re responsible for UNIT, aren’t they?”
“The Valiant,” said Ianto, realizing what Gwen was getting at. “It’s a UNIT ship. Designed by Harold Saxon when he was at the Ministry of Defence.”
“Rose sent us the schematics and entry codes good for three months.” The right file finally found, Gwen handed it to Jack.
He skimmed through the pages. “The Master must have built it, knowing he would broadcast first contact to the entire world,” mused Jack. “It’s a ready made stage.” He jumped to his feet. “Pack any gear we might need. We’re boarding the Valiant.”
The Torchwood team immediately went to work, gathering up everything they thought they might need, which included weapons. Gwen and Ianto dug out a cache of small handguns, all easily hidden under a coat or in the back of a waistband. Martha had never fired a gun in her life and seeing so many guns in one place made her feel uneasy. In her line of work, she strove to save lives.
She cornered Jack just before the team was ready to leave. “You’re going to kill the Master.” Each team member was carrying a gun.
“If we have to. It’s him or the world, Martha.” Jack’s simplistic way of looking at the situation was slightly unnerving. Killing a person, even someone as wicked as the Master, shouldn’t have been the first solution. She hadn’t questioned the nature of Torchwood until that moment. They fought aliens, but at what cost?
The six of them hurried through the tunnel, unmindful of the puddles as they headed back to the abandoned warehouse and the van. They were risking being spotted by the Master, but they had no choice. The only hope they had was that the Master was too busy playing Prime Minster to notice their movements. Owen took the wheel once more and they started the drive to the west of London. Jack claimed a RAF station there was their best opportunity to get aboard the Valiant.
Night had already fallen by the time they got on the road. Martha was ready to fall asleep. She had slept a little before she and Rose arrived in Cardiff, but that felt like years ago rather than hours. Landing in the year 100 trillion and running for dear life away from flesh hungry mutants could be rather draining. She yearned for a long shower, a change of clothes, and a hot cup of tea, but she knew she wouldn’t receive any of these any time soon.
They rode in silence for an hour before they came upon the station. On Jack’s instruction, Owen drove past the civilian entrance. He parked the van a few miles down the road before they ditched the vehicle next to the high hedge wall that blocked the station from the public.
“Don’t tell me we’re just going to walk right in,” whispered Martha.
Jack reached into the pack Tosh was carrying and came back with what looked like a compact chainsaw. “We’re going through the hedge.”
It seemed a bit ridiculous, like something out of a cartoon, but Jack cut a hole large enough for them to slip through. Once on the other side, there were no alarms or guard dogs to chase them down. The poor security would have been a bother but right now, it was a blessing.
They sneaked across a small field, headed towards one of the runways. She felt exposed in the open air but she trailed after Jack and the others, confident in their infiltration techniques. It wasn’t long before they came upon a small cargo plane waiting to take flight with its crew. Soldiers bustled around the plane, their guns and black fatigues making it obvious what their role was. The uniforms were topped off with a red beret, which stood in contrast with the rest of the garb.
“UNIT soldiers,” muttered Jack.
“You couldn’t have known they would be here,” said Owen. They watched the soldiers from the relative safety of some deep shadows cast by tall shrubbery.
“Northolt’s out of the way and more low key than Heathrow. If you want to transport a squadron of soldiers, you do it from here.”
“You’ve been here before,” said Gwen.
“Probably,” Jack said good-naturedly despite the tense situation they were in. “All these RAF stations look the same.”
An opportunity suddenly presented itself as the soldiers loading the plane headed back to the hangar. With the possibility that the soldiers were leaving to retrieve the rest of the troops, the team wasted no time creeping as fast as they could across the runway towards the hold of the plane. Martha tried to follow as silently as she could, but her shoes made shuffling noises no matter what.
Jack and Ianto forced open the hatch to the hold. Crates secured under tarpaulins and canvas straps took up most of the space.
“Under the tarps,” urged Jack. It was a tight squeeze, even with Martha’s smaller frame. Tosh managed to sneak in beside her while the others found their own hiding places. She couldn’t imagine Jack trying to fit into the awkward space. Hopefully none of the soldiers came by to check the cargo before take-off.
It was freezing within the cargo hold and Martha tried to quell the chattering of her teeth. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket and tried to think warm thoughts. Minutes passed before the plane’s engines powered up though it felt like eternity. In the pitch darkness, she had no sense of orientation. The only clue that the plane had gained altitude was when her ears popped.
Confined against a wooden crate, Martha’s legs quickly fell asleep. The next time she had to fly, she wouldn’t be complaining about the small amount of leg room her seat provided. It was a luxury compared to her current situation. Though it was noisy in the hold, she didn’t dare speak in case her whispers gave them away. For an advanced and secretive team like Torchwood, this method of infiltration felt beneath them and she didn’t want to be the one to ruin the haphazard plan, so she closed her eyes and tried not to think about how they were on their way to murder the Prime Minister of Great Britain.
With no reference, the passage of time slowed to nothing. Martha could have been back in the TARDIS, a timeless passenger hopping from one era to the next. She drifted off and it was only a hard jolt that snapped her awake and out of her shallow slumber. She attempted to move her legs but they were stiff from lack of blood flow. The plane’s engines slowly ground to a halt.
Someone threw back the tarp and in the dim light Martha barely made out Jack’s form, the silhouette of his long coat giving him away. She all but stumbled out of the hold as the feeling slowly returned to her lower extremities.
Taking a quick look around, she guessed they were in another hangar. Beyond the hangar doors she could see a runway but then beyond that there was nothing but sky. Wherever they were, morning had dawned.
A harsh tug on her arm yanked her back to reality. Jack pulled her behind some metal barrels as the UNIT soldiers began to file off the plane. Martha squeezed her eyes shut, as if that would make her invisible. When she no longer heard the muffled stomps of boots, she opened her eyes.
“Where are we?” she hissed at Jack.
“This is the Valiant.” Noting that it was safe to emerge, he motioned for her to rise. Across the hangar, the others appeared from their concealed places.
“Where’s the sea?” All she could hear, aside from the Valiant’s mechanics, was a strong wind. No water lapped at the hull of the ship.
“A ship for the 21st century.” Jack brought her to the edge of the hangar and she looked out over the runway again. It was an endless blue, punctuated by white clouds, not rolling waves. “Protecting the skies of planet Earth.”
Martha let out an amazed sigh, but it hid her shiver of trepidation as well. There was no turning back now.
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