Aiden Thorne was a technology and computer prodigy. He knew how to dismantle AND reassemble a computer by the time he was 9, making it run faster and more smoothly in the process. This talent combined with a perhaps surprising interest in what most would call, being a hero, earned him the attention of an organization called UNIT, which he promptly joined after being issued an invitation on his 18th birthday.

Reporting for duty on his first day, Private Thorne could not help but to imagine all of the uses his skills could be put to. Would he be tracking terrorists? Perhaps finding the offshore bank accounts of wanted criminals? Maybe he would be protecting the royal family from cyber-based attacks?

However, when he was given his assignment and seated down at a computer in a small cubicle, those dreams quickly vanished.

THIS was what they wanted him to do? Track suspicious cashpoint activity, focusing primarily on London and Cardiff. What kind of suspicious activity, if any at all, was going to happen in Cardiff?

He was to report immediately to his superior if he discovered a cashpoint that was distributing money without being keyed into a bank account.

Nothing of note occurred for the first eight months, and Aiden was prepared to tender his resignation and find a job in the private sector where his skills would be more appreciated.

While these thoughts gained form and substance in his mind, he looked up once more to confirm that the readings on his monitor remained as steady as ever. Only they weren't. There it was; a cashpoint near a London estate, the Powell Estates according to his data, was being forced to tender a couple hundred quid. Only no one had entered their account information.

Feeling genuine curiosity for the first time since he started his new job, Aiden hastened purposefully and erectly to his supervisors office.

Knocking resolutely on the door, and standing at attention, the young man waited until an authoritative voice called "enter".

The man behind the desk was distinguished looking, with a stern brow and salt and pepper hair. He briefly glanced up from the dossier he was scanning to mutter, "At ease."

"Permission to speak sir?"

"Granted", without looking up again.

"Sir, it's happened."

This time he did look up, brow furrowed, and said to himself. "What's the old man up to know?"

"Sir, according to my information, the perpetrator is only in his mid to late thirties"

"Younger every time", again, he was not speaking to Aiden.

"Orders, Sir?"

"Pull up personnel file designated 'Sigma Theta one nine six three'. The position should read Scientific Advisor, status: inactive. Whatever amount was taken from the cash point, remove from the bank account listed in the file, and reimburse the bank. Make it look like it never happened. Dismissed."

As Aiden saluted and turned to leave he heard his boss mutter, "He worked for us for years, how could he not realize we were paying him? It wasn't ever official, but for all he did, it was the least we could do".

Left with more questions than when he arrived, Aiden returned to his desk. After a sigh, prepared to finally put his skills to work, he pulled up the employment file and read the name of the man who managed to rip off ATMs with far too much ease.

The picture looked nothing like him, but Aiden knew to trust the Brigadier. He committed the name to memory: The Doctor.

Aiden's career at UNIT was only just beginning.

AN: I know that technically, the 3rd Doctor was never paid by UNIT, but after all the times he saved the world, I like to think that everyone who knew what he did chipped in a couple pounds from their paycheck every time. By now, it could very well be a tidy sum. This way, he's not stealing; he just doesn't know he's taking from his own bank account.