Note: I don't own Doctor Who, I don't intend any copyright infringement, and if you're the BBC, Russell T. Davies, or anyone else associated with the production of Doctor Who, please don't hurt me. Thanks.

Also, this is basically a Martha fest, so be warned. Spoilers for all of Season 3, and also spoilers for casting of Season 4.

The Machinery of Night

She was running. It seems like she was always running lately, running away from something terrifying in any manner of shapes and sizes: a gigantic human-mutant monster; a trio of screaming tin cans; an army of rhinos. Sometimes she even found herself running away from the sad, disappointed eyes of her own mother.

And yet, there were times when she was running towards something. And it was always the same thing: a tall, lanky man with a dark suit and a shock of wild brown hair… an alien with two hearts and two infinite eyes, with a grin almost as wide as his outstretched arms. Soon, she'd be in his embrace, and whatever danger lay behind her, whatever type of death that seemed so close before, all of it would just melt away.

But not this time.

"More tea, Mrs. Jennings?" Martha held the tea kettle out towards her neighbor expectantly. Having the landlady over was a pretty scary experience in any time period, but having to do it while blending into the year 1969 and posing as a married couple was a delicate balancing act all its own. Martha tried not to shake the kettle with her nerves.

"No thanks, love," Mrs. Jennings smiled, pulling the wrinkles around her face in a delightful pattern.

Across the table, the oblivious Doctor worked almost manically at the small, mangled radio in front of him. As he twisted the wires and jumbled with its insides, Martha took the kettle over to him. Their London flat was small, which of course meant that their dining area was miniscule. It was a feat of flexibility to walk around the small table without knocking anything over. "John, how about you?" Martha asked.

The Doctor, fully ensconced in his work, failed to look up at her.

"John?" Martha asked again. When she still received no reply, she looked nervously over at Mrs. Jennings, who sat watching with a bemused expression.

Martha hesitated, then placed a hand on his shoulder. "Sweetheart," she said, knowing that would shock him out of his mechanical reverie. "More tea?"

The Doctor looked up at her. "What? Oh. Oh right. Right you are," he mumbled before returning his attention back down to fixing the radio.

Taking that as a yes, Martha carefully began to pour the Doctor another cup. Suddenly, the soft sound of pouring was replaced with a loud crackling and popping, and then, Paul McCartney began to belt out a song through the radio's tinny speakers.

"YES!" The Doctor screamed triumphantly, jumping out of his seat with the radio in his hands. As he did so, he knocked into Martha, causing her to spill tea all over the table. Before she could give him a chiding look, he sprinted towards the living room and gingerly placed the now-working radio on the mantle.

Martha set down the kettle and sighed. Mrs. Jennings handed her a towel. She took it and smiled through her embarrassment. "I'm sorry about John…" she began as she cleaned up the mess.

Mrs. Jennings shook her head. "Hush now. You don't need to apologize to me. My Daniel was an engineer. Those scientifically-minded men are all the same. Heads in the clouds!"

Martha glanced over at the Doctor, who was fiddling with the volume. "Yeah," she smiled. "You can say that again."

"…Hold your head up you silly girl, look what you've done.." the radio continued to sing. The Doctor smiled and tilted his head. "I think I know this one."

He glided over to Mrs. Jennings and took her by the hand, and pulled her out into the living room. "When you find yourself in the thick of it, help yourself to a bit of what is all around you.."

Mrs. Jennings laughed. "Oh, Mr. Smith. You're a strange one, you are."

"It takes one to know one, Mrs. Jennings," the Doctor said with a smirk. "Martha! Come out here and dance with me."

Martha had already disappeared into their cubbyhole of a kitchen. "I've got washing to do," a voice answered back.

"Oh no you don't," the Doctor chided. He sprinted into the kitchen, and let his stocking-clad feet slide on the linoleum floor until he almost crashed into his companion at the sink.

Martha turned to him, exasperated. "What are you—"

The Doctor grabbed her by the waist and pulled her toward him, instantly silencing her. He took her hand and spun her, causing her apron to fan out around her in a flourish, and she laughed in response.

He pulled her close again and looked down at her. Martha gulped. "Do you know what song this is? Do you recognize it?" he said to her, his eyes shining.

Martha shook her head, so the Doctor sang along with the radio. "Martha my dear, you have always been my inspiration, please remember me; Martha my love, don't forget me, Martha my dear…"

Martha stirred, letting the images of the memory pass over her before opening her eyes again. She didn't want to wake up; she knew to well of the blinding light and the terrible cold that awaited her. She pressed her eyes tight, and tried to lose herself in the memory of the music. But it was no use.

"The human's waking up again," said a distant voice.

The corridors of the space station are typical for any of the time—long, open walkways, peopled by any number of alien species; big, gallery windows filled with the beautiful majesty of black, star-pocked space; the sleek, impressive keypads and view-screens that are required of such massive technology. The only irregularity in this gigantic maze of modern metal was the appearance of a small, blue, wooden police box in the end section of quadrant four.

"Ah, here we are then," the Doctor said, sticking his coiffured mass of hair out from behind one of the TARDIS doors before finally stepping out. "Station 17."

He held the door open for an awkward redheaded woman to stumble out. "Bloody hell," she said as she tried to take in her surroundings with one wide gaze.

"Indeed," he said, following her open-mouthed stare. "Although, you'd think they'd come up with a better name. 'Station 17' sounds a bit dry, don't you think?"

"They could call it Station Station for all I care, this place is bang on! It's so.. spacey." She ran towards one of the giant bay windows. "What planet is that?"

"Let's see," the Doctor said, tugging at his ear as he studied the giant planet that moved slowly across the black sky. "Three rings, phosphorescent oceans.. New Ovo, from the looks of it, which would put you, Donna, a long way from home."

As a slender, blue-skinned woman passed by, Donna snorted. "I don't need a planet to tell me that."

"So," the Doctor said, offering his arm. "You said you were hungry, right?"

"Starving," Donna replied as she slipped her hand around his elbow.

"Good!" the Doctor exclaimed as he led her down the corridor. "Wait until you see the restaurant I've picked out. The Ovorians may be crap with names, but they're experts in the culinary arts. You're about to sample the best red-eyed Drett custard in the galaxy."

Donna made a face. "I'm not eating anything that sounds like it belongs in a bottle under my sink. What about a nice, plain salad? Do they serve salad in space?"

"Of course! New Ovo's got an entire greenhouse devoted to the cultivation of dinoflaggelate grass. It actually sparks when you cut into it!"

"What's that taste like, then?"

"Well.. the closest comparison is an old sock. But it's very pretty."

Donna sighed. "Great."

As the car made its way down the long country road, the black pavement seemed to stretch out in front of it as though it was drawn with a graphite pencil. Martha followed its impending curves and straightaways with her eyes, anxious and excited. It had been ages since she'd been out of London, and she had almost forgotten how much she enjoyed to travel. Even though this was only a short weekend holiday to visit extended family, and Martha's previous trips had been of a more exciting, intergalactic nature, she still found herself happily lost in her thoughts, imagining the adventure ahead.

"Are you listening to me, Martha?" Tish looked over at her sister from the driver's seat.

Martha tore her gaze away from the windshield to answer with a quiet, "Hmm?"

Tish responded with a shake of her head. "Typical. I don't know why I bother telling you anything."

"I'm sorry, Tish, I was just--"

"Don't waste your breath."

They sat in silence for a moment, but soon a smile crept across Martha's lips. "All right then, be angry. I'd like it better if you were."

"What? Why?"

"Siblings are supposed to get in fights every now and again. If you're upset with me, that means things are becoming... you know.. normal."

Tish scowled in confusion. "Normal?"

Martha nodded. "Yup. Two sisters, on a drive, having a spat. No world domination, no Toclafane, no time travel. Everything just as it ought to be."

As if on cue, a blinding streak of light cut across the sky in front of them, tore into the countryside and exploded in the trees.

Tish screamed as she pulled off the road. "What the hell was that?"

"I don't know, Tish," Martha whispered.

The blue skinned alien who had been leaning over her dropped his clippboard nervously. "Doctor Jer!" he called. "Th-The human's awake again!"

From across the brightly lit room, another blue skinned alien rose from a computer console and strode over confidently to her colleage. She looked at Martha, then turned her attention to the nearby instrument panel. "What makes you say that? According to this, she's in a deep sleep."

"But..but.." the first alien twitched, "she spoke."

Doctor Jer raised her blue eyebrows. "Really? What did she say?"

"I don't know."

"Oh."

"No, I mean, she said 'I don't know.'"

Doctor Jer blinked. "Interesting."

The first alien picked up his clipboard from the floor. "What should we do?"

Jer walked back to her console as she nonchalantly replied, "Give her another dose of the quertizone sedative. We don't want her doing that during the broadcast."

The Doctor and Donna stood in front of a very ominous looking section of the station that was enclosed in large plate glass windows. Inside, the room looked dark and dead.

"Well, here we are!" the Doctor shouted happily.

Donna looked at the empty restaurant with disdain. "I'm beginning to think you're the only one who likes this place," she said.

"Oh, wait a minute, look…Closed for Special Broadcast," the Doctor read aloud from the sign posted in the window. "Well, Donna, I'm afraid we'll have to make other plans."

Donna leaned against a station railway, relieved. "That's okay. After you described their pudding, I kind of lost my appetite."

"Pardon me," the Doctor said, grabbing a portly passerby gingerly by the arm. "What's this 'Special Broadcast' about?"

"You mean you don't know? The whole place has been talking about it for a week now!" the alien bristled, his scales rippling in response.

"Sorry, we only just arrived," the Doctor explained, gesturing to himself and Donna.

The Ovorian smoothed out his scales. "The Excursionist has returned!" he said excitedly.

The Doctor made an exuberant face. "Brilliant! Isn't that just brilliant, Donna?"

From the railway, Donna smirked apathetically. "Great."

"Indeed. Very good. Yes." The Doctor turned back to the alien, pulling at his ear. "Um, what's the Excursionist again?"

"The ship! The lost Peels ship. You know, the crash landing? We thought we'd never see them again. But they're back! They're arriving this very evening, with their miraculous human-powered anomaly drive." The Ovorian giggled at the thought.

The Doctor's face fell into a scowl. "I'm sorry, did you say a human-powered anomaly drive?"

"That's right! It's all really quite something. You'd better find a view screen soon, people are lining up all over the station to watch the broadcast." With that, the plump, reptilian Ovorian gingerly continued his stroll down the walkway.

Noticing his face, Donna left her perch on the guardrail and walked up to the Doctor. "What is it? What's wrong?"

The Doctor started down the hall, following in the steps of the other Peels. "Come on," he called. "We need to find a view screen."

"But why?" Donna said as she followed after him. "What's so important about humans flying a ship?"

"A human isn't flying a ship, Donna, it's powering the ship. The coal in the furnace, so to speak."

"What? You mean there's a ship out there that using people as petrol?"

"Not exactly. It's complicated."

"Explain it to me."

"Donna.." the Doctor whined as the two of them took the corridor into a larger plaza area filled with aliens of all walks of life. Crowds were gathered here and there, wherever a small dark screen was mounted. Donna noticed a small view screen nestled underneath an archway that had only a few observers in front of it, and she pulled the Doctor over to it. After a moment, she stood next to him expectantly, her arms folded.

The screen displayed a descending clock. "Looks like you've got 2 minutes," Donna whispered to him. "Talk fast."

The Doctor took a deep breath. He knew when he was cornered, and Donna was getting to be quite an expert at getting what she wanted out of the Doctor. "When people travel through time, they become changed by it," he began.

Donna scoffed. "I'll say."

"No, I mean physically. You become a sort of anomaly of time and space. You grow older, you build memories; your entire being changes, both mentally and physically. Once returned to your old time, though, everything else has stayed the same while you walk amongst your time, different."

"Older and wiser."

The Doctor nodded. "Exactly. Older and wiser than you'd normally be, so you're an anomaly. Now, the Peels use the energy of time anomalies as fuel for their ships. Usually things like asteroids that have gone through time rifts, or, say, a small planet whose rotating axis has been manipulated to influence its time space matrices."

Donna made a face. "Um.. right."

"But a human, even a time-traveling human, doesn't possess enough energy from a time anomaly to power a wristwatch, let alone a whole ship. They'd need a human who has traveled all across the galaxy, into any number of instances and time and space. Humans, at least in this era, don't have that technology yet."

"So how'd they find one that did?"

The Doctor cocked his head. "That's what I intend to find out."

At that moment, the screen went pale, and then a blue-faced man appeared. "Welcome all, to the broadcast of the return of the starship Excursionist!" the Peels announcer said.

As the aliens around them clapped, the Doctor and Donna leaned in a bit closer to see the new set of images appear on the view screen. It was a new blue face this time, a female, and she was standing in what looked like an engineering room. "Greetings, Station 17. It's so good to be back. I'm Doctor Jer, and this is the miracle that brought us here."

The Peels engineer stepped to her right, revealing a small grey pod that was semi-erect. Inside, partly submerged in green, bubbling liquid, was a young human woman wearing a Peels uniform. Her large eyes were shut tight and she appeared to be lifeless. Tubes and cords snakes out of the joints in her arms and fed into large, whirring machines on either side of the pod. On her forehead, just below her hairline, a few microchip pads were blinking with lights.

"Oh! It's a girl," Donna whispered.

The Doctor was stunned into silence at what he saw. Finally, he replied, "That's no ordinary girl."

Donna looked at him. "What do you mean?"

The Doctor began to burn with fury as he spoke. "That's a companion. That's my companion. Martha. Martha Jones."