Disclaimer: All the characters, ideas, concepts, etc. originally belonging to the Dr. Who franchise still belong to them. The only purpose of this story is to feed the vicious things in my brain which whisper Jenny and Lady Christina de Souza should have had more screentime, and is not to make profit.
Jenny set a course for the most extensively developed planet within reasonable distance. She could slingshot the pod around planets and suns, but that didn't completely take away the issue of fuel. Still, the DNA humming inside her told her the universe was just teeming with natural miracles for the eye to behold—but there was something else you needed—humans, people, anything that ranked compassion and curiosity highly; those were what gave focus to and put a twinkle in that eye. People were a gateway to many things.
Mischief.
Mayhem.
Marathons.
But first, she needed transportation. Or fuel. Or money.
As the hatch opened and the blonde stepped out, she took her first breath of fresh air. The sunrise took it away. The imprints and her blood told her this was a trick of a thicker atmosphere, the curvature of the world and the properties of light. In fact, she could feel the turning of the world beneath her feet, sense it hurtling around the flaming ball of gas, grasp the insidiously slow speed with which it turned around the arm of the galaxy, and ride that galaxy in its expansive journey towards the ever receding edge of the universe… and if she let go…
But it was a really nifty trick of light, no matter what level of smog caused it. And there were many more tricks of light to be seen. So many more—so many worlds to see them on, creatures to watch them with, times to observe them in.
Time.
That word grew in her head till she felt it resonate with her being, linking her to the flow of the vortex. Interesting. That wasn't something they programmed into her mind. This was a girl who needed transportation so alternative the wrong breath could poke a hole in the universe. Looming in front of her was just the place to get it, too. A giant hexagonal building sported the words "Time Agency" above its doors. Forward, to her great, terrible, insane, and vaguely hilarious purpose.
The sepia toned floor tiles and blasé walls were anything but welcoming; they radiated control and uniformity. Nonetheless, Jenny approached the counter with a confident military stride. "I'm applying for a job."
The concierge looked up, startled by the woman's air of importance. "Yes, well, we're not precisely hiring at the moment, so it's a much more selective filter you'd have to pass through." The blonde smiled opportunistically (unsettlingly to the man at the desk) and stared, waiting for the opportunity to pass through said filter. He cleared his throat as though it would shake the world back to how it was supposed to be—without icily attractive military women staring you down for an interview—and opened up the comm. link, "Jonathan, there's a woman here in need of evaluation." He quickly returned his eyes to the computer where he supposedly spent all day arranging appointments.
A moderately tall, slight man swooped in from a hallway to the left, and Jenny turned around starting with her feet, then gracefully up to eye contact. "This way, miss." They speedily made their way to another barren room, due to their no nonsense policy on walking, and Jonathan pulled out a datapad. "First I'm going to ask you a few basic questions, then we'll move on to the interview," he droned with the practice that comes from turning away dozens of recruits. "Name?"
"Jenny." The man waited a beat too long. "Just Jenny, thanks."
This girl appeared quite insolent to a man who'd only read about communities small enough to need no last names thousands of years ago. "Birthplace?"
"Messaline." This was quite like providing your rank and regiment for your captors.
"Recent colony world… age?" He looked up intermittently, not displaying much more expression than the walls around him.
"Five standard days."
"Mmm." A slight raise of the eyebrows accompanied two taps of his stylus on the screen. "Parents?"
"Parent. Don't know his name."
"And yours?"
"Jenny." The blonde was now beginning to think the man was insolent.
"And your father did what?" It was a last ditch effort; if they ended up hiring the girl (hopefully not), they could look up the names of the people sent to colonize Geidei Sigma.
"Er…" She tried to remember Donna's description of the Doctor, and in the process found the ceiling was a much more interesting nebula of blue and orange than the walls would suggest. "Runs a lot, saves people, flies around in a box… I think he keeps the brakes on, mind you."
This time, the cool, administrative nature broke completely. He drew in a breath and didn't release it until there was more air than rushed speech in his voice. "If you'll wait a moment, I have to consult with my superior."
To Jonathan's shame and convenience, he bumped into said superior quite roughly. "Ma'am. About the blonde that just came in:" Here, it was assumed people were informed before it was assumed they didn't know most details of your life. "She's… Well she's—" Before he could continue stammering, Adelle Brooke swiftly commandeered the datapad.
Jonathan remained fidgeting and speechless.
"Lethal combat skills from the progeneration machine. Doctor's daughter, so we can assume some innate proficiency with the vortex." She looked up, and with the full force of her authority, uttered, "Hire her."
"But if she's a spy—"
"Ask her. Hire her anyway. We can't afford to pass up this opportunity. Put her on the rift that just opened in England. Not Cardiff, the one with the sand and the bus? Somewhere it'll be hard to create a galaxy-wide apocalypse if she meddles.
"Yes, ma'am." Jonathan, suddenly lacking in suave barely managed to compose himself before re-entering his interview room. In the process of taking his seat, he also took his sweet time to scoot back in.
"So, Miss Jenny… How much contact do you have with your father?"
An hour later, Jenny emerged from the building with a mission, a crude translator rigged from studying electromagnetic fields around the T.A.R.D.I.S., some clothes designed to blend in anywhen, and her very own vortex manipulator.
Her face became plastered with the most kind hearted, adventurous, and mischievous smile that anyone could muster—the kind of smile reserved for those few spirits with enough awe, power, and inspiration to traverse the universe just for fun. She pushed a few buttons on her wrist and whispered to herself.
"Earth, here I come."
A/N: I do have some chapters and ideas piled up, but sometimes things creep up in my life that take a year to sort out. Feedback is always welcome and sometimes gives inspiration and/or guilt, both of which make me write faster barring huge complications.