The sun had just gone down, and Martha had only nine hours left before the boat to Ecuador shipped out. She bit her lip, her mind going over her options, as she looked through her binoculars at what used to be San Diego's premier hotel resort. It was crawling with mercenaries.
"Ma'am," a soft voice called from the door. "We should be going; it's not safe here, not this close to the old base."
Martha looked over her shoulder, at the man the local resistance cell had assigned her when she'd contacted them earlier that day . "I told you to stop calling me Ma'am, John," she said. "Martha, or Jones, will do."
"Yes, Ma….rtha," he said. "Sorry, habit," he added, with a small smile.
Martha nodded. Sergeant John Graham was career military, or had been before the Toclafane had descended and taken over the nearby naval base. "You have the information I need?" she asked.
"You do realise this is a suicide mission?"
"That wasn't what I asked," Martha said, holding out her hand as he reached inside his coat.
"These are the most comprehensive maps I could find," he murmured. "I even found maps for the sewer and maintenance tunnels, although they're going to be pretty useless to us – the Mercs sealed them off
Martha frowned. "You know what I want to know?" she asked. "Why isn't the Colonel using the huge naval base next door for his centre of operations?"
"That question's easy," John said. "It's full of Toclafane, and nobody wants to spend a lot of time around them, not even their allies – word is, accidents start to happen."
Martha suppressed a shiver, as her mind summoned up images of what those accidents might be. "Right," she said aloud. "That just makes my job easier, I suppose."
John looked at her, his face a picture of worry. "With all due respect, Ma-artha, this is crazy. You can't go in there by yourself."
"Oh yeah?" Martha muttered. "Just watch me."
"The resistance cannot afford to lose you, Ma'am."
"Well, it's a good thing that's not going to happen, isn't it?" Martha returned, as she spread the maps on the floor. "So…where do you reckon they're holding him?"
John sighed. "In the hotel gym," he said.
Martha looked up from the map. "You sound very sure of that."
"Our man on the inside saw him…"
Martha absorbed that. "What aren't you telling me?" she asked.
"He's…Reese's not in a good way," John said.
Martha sighed and nodded. "I wasn't expecting him to be," she admitted softly . "All the more reason to get him out of there, sooner rather than later."
"Ma'am - Martha, this can't work."
Martha smiled at the ex-marine. "Don't worry, John, I'm not as crazy as I sound," she said, absently patting the pocket she'd stashed the TARDIS key in. "I have an ace up my sleeve."
"You're going to need more than an ace to pull this one off," he warned.
"Just be here when I get back," Martha said, as she stashed the maps into her pack and shouldered it.
"But Ma'am, you can't go in there alone—"
"I can, and I will, John," Martha said firmly. "Be ready to move when the time comes."
He sighed, but nodded reluctantly, and Martha smiled at him as she got up from her crouch. "Cheer up, John; soon I'll be out of your hair for good."
"Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of," he muttered.
Sergeant John Graham may have had a point, Martha thought ruefully, as she eyed the hotel complex. It probably was more than a little bit stupid, to even attempt this, but she'd had her fill of leaving people behind in the last few months. First her family, and then the Doctor and Jack...
She wasn't about to add Derek Reese to the list.
"Right, you can do this, Jones," she muttered to herself, as she crept through the hotel's parking lot, empty except for the jeeps. "Can't be worse than New York, right?" She grimaced to herself; maybe that hadn't been the best image to evoke.
The ground floor was ablaze with light, and Martha heard something that sounded remarkably like chamber music waft through the windows. She ignored it as she snuck along the rhododendrons that bordered the gardens, keeping as much to the shadows as she could. The TARDIS key kept her masked from most people's perceptions, but she didn't want to rely on it too much.
She was nearing the gym when she paused; where would she go from here? Reese was injured, that much she knew, so she needed to not only rescue him, but also move him off the base without getting them both killed. Easier said than done.
Of course, she could always commandeer some transportation…
Martha looked back at the jeeps and grinned. Derek Reese 101: How to hotwire a car. She'd always known it'd come in handy one day.
She crouched under the window, straining to hear voices, but she couldn't hear anything over the chamber music, which seemed to blast through every single speaker in the hotel. It was beginning to get on her nerves, and she suspected that was kind of the point.
Sighing, she poked her head above the sill and looked inside. John's intel had been good. Reese was in the gym, tied to what looked like a weights rack. Well, at least it wasn't a cage again, Martha thought, as she looked around the room and spotted the two guards, snoozing on chairs just inside the door. Martha supposed they didn't think much of Reese's chances of escaping and, looking at the shallowness of Reese's breathing, and the way he slumped against his restraints, she had to agree.
"Not good, not good," she muttered; an injured Reese was one thing, an unconscious Reese was another. She had to think… what could she use to move him? One of those hotel wheelie trays she used to see in all those movies? Hmm, maybe not… a laundry basket, perhaps?
Huh, that might work
Now all she had to do is find a pinny and a basket.
It was really amazing what the TARDIS key allowed her to get away with. She'd found a small staff entrance, at the back, and the Laundry room in the basement, without a hitch. She even found one of the hotel staff uniforms.
Quickly, she donned it, and stuffed her clothes into the bottom of an empty basket, along with her satchel, before checking herself in the mirror, and wiping off the smudges on her face. If all went well, they wouldn't even register her walking into the room, never mind look at her twice; but it was better to be safe than sorry.
"Right," she told her reflection. "No more stalling. Just get out there and do it…before you lose your nerve."
She pushed the basket before her, and used the staff elevator to get to the ground floor. Two soldiers, waiting for the main elevator to arrive, did a double take when the doors open, but Martha could almost see the haze fill their eyes a moment later.
"Excuse me," she muttered, her head down as she pushed the basket past them. An itch developed between her shoulder blades as she walked down the hallway, towards the gym, but she stopped herself from running or looking back.
The gym doors were now straight ahead of her, and Martha kept her eyes trained on them as a small group of soldiers suddenly appeared through a side door. She refused to look at them.
At last, she gained the gym doors, and pushed them open with the basket. The sleeping guards snorted in their sleep and Martha froze for a moment, certain they would wake up.
Luck was with her.
She crept towards the weight rack and peered at Reese's restraints. The Colonel had used plastic ties again, just like the ones he'd used on her in Sparta. She rooted around in the bottom of the basket and found her pocketknife in her trousers, before she gently shook Reese' shoulder. He didn't respond.
Frowning, Martha put the back of her hand to his forehead; he was burning up. She looked down at the bloodied t-shirt he was wearing and had a nasty suspicion. He had an infection. Her mind went through all the things she'd need to clean the infection up. She'd need to break into a medical facility or a hospital…
But, first, she needed to get Reese the hell out of here.
She cut through the plastic restraints and grunted under Reese's weight as he fell sideways. Talk about a dead weight—
She winced at her own thoughts as she levered him into the laundry basket, pulling the sheet over him. Part of her couldn't believe she was getting away this but, then again, she wasn't really. It was the TARDIS's key that was giving her the edge…
A soft groan came from the basket, and one of the guards shifted uneasily in his sleep. Quickly, Martha pushed the basket towards the door. The guards may ignore the sound she made, but the same didn't extend to Reese, apparently.
She backed out of the room with the basket, sighing with a relief as the doors swung shut behind her and looked around for the nearest exit. No doubt about it; she'd definitely feel better once she was outside.
She steered the basket for the nearest set of double doors, and barrelled through them, halting as she realised she was suddenly in the dark again. A groan came from the basket again, and Martha pulled the sheet back. "Reese?"
"Sarah?"
Martha frowned; he didn't recognise her voice. That wasn't good. "Reese, it's Martha," she said, as she checked his temperature again. It was climbing. "You're running a fever."
"Martha?" he mumbled, and then his eyes shot open. "Martha, what are you – ah." He fell back into the basket. "Damn, that hurt."
"Just relax," Martha told him. "I'm going to find us some transport."
Reese laughed painfully. "This I gotta see."
"Oh ye of little faith," Martha declared as she pushed the basket in front of her. "Now be quiet, you'll attract the guards." They'd reached the parking lot, and Martha paused as she looked at the jeeps.
"The one with the mounted machine gun," Reese muttered, as he suddenly started to drag himself out of the basket.
"Not bloody likely – and what do you think you're doing?" Martha added, as she grabbed him around the waist.
Reese looked at her in disgust. "I'm standing up, what does it look like I'm doing?"
"Looks a lot less like standing up and more like weaving about, to me," Martha snorted.
"You're going to argue with a dying man?"
"You're not dying."
"I will be if I we don't get out of this parking lot soon." Reese responded.
"We don't need a machine gun."
"Yes, we do," Reese said, before adding, "Lets put it this way, Jones: If you were the bad guy, chasing an escaped prisoner, how eager would you be to catch up if the escapee had a machine gun?"
Martha pulled a face. "Good point," she sighed, as she helped the limping Reese towards the armed jeep and handed him her pocket-knife. "Have at it."
"But I thought you were going to do the honours," he teased as he popped the door lock.
Martha pulled her satchel and clothes out of the basket. "Even with a fever, you're a pain in the arse," she muttered.
"Were you expecting something different?"
Martha just shook her head and watched as he pulled the wires out from underneath the driving wheel. Sweat beaded his brow, and Martha wondered what it was costing him to remain conscious, never mind coherent. "Who's Sarah?" she asked suddenly.
"Huh?"
"When you awoke, you called me Sarah."
"Did I?" For a moment, he looked confused. "Huh…"
"Huh?"
"Sarah was John's Mother," he murmured, and Martha looked at him, trying to gauge what he was thinking. There was more to it than that, she just knew it.
Suddenly, an alarm screeched to life, and Reese and Martha stared at each other.
"You drive," he said firmly, as he crawled into the back of the Jeep, behind the mounted machine gun.
"Right." She jumped into the driver's seat and looked at the wires, her mind going blank for a moment, before she remembered the correct ones to connect. The engine roared to life, and Martha slammed her foot down on the accelerator. She remembered the last time she'd driven a car. People had been trying to kill her then, too.
The wheels squealed as she did a sharp turn in the parking lot, blinking as all the hotel's exterior lights came on. The windows on the second floor were shot out, as gunfire filled the air, and Martha swerved the jeep wildly, hoping to make the jeep a harder target, as Reese laid down cover fire.
"Jones! Head for the marina!" Reese said, through the rear window.
The marina? But the rendezvous point was over twenty miles south. "You sure about that?" she called back.
"Damned positive – now put the pedal to the floor, Jones!"
She revved the engine and roared down the road, even as she wondered why they weren't already covered in Toclafane. The only reason she could come up with was that the Colonel didn't like the Toclafane on the hotel grounds – for any reason.
The marina was less than two miles away, and Martha glanced over her shoulder at Reese. "What the hell are you up to?" she asked, once they were out of range of the hotel's windows. .
"We still have an advantage," he said. "But that advantage is going to disappear any moment now, once they begin to gain on us, or send the Toclafane after us. We need to disappear off their radar - fast!"
The marina was in sight, and Martha felt her mouth go dry, as she realised what Reese must be thinking. "Reese, let me just go on record right now and say that this is the craziest idea you've ever had – and this is me talking!"
"Keep going – and grab your bag, we're going for a dip!"
The jeep hit the quay at full speed and, for a moment, Martha thought the tyres were going to blow… not that it really mattered. "Forget crazy," Martha said, through gritted teeth, shouldering her bag as she struggled to keep the car on course. She kicked the door open "Try Insaaaaaanne!"
She was drowning, she was sure she was drowning; the salt water filled her nose and her mouth, and everything felt so cold and peaceful. She felt something tug at her, but she didn't have the energy to respond, and it was easier to just give in and float and…
Pain, burning pain, as oxygen seared her lungs. Her chest hurt from the pounding Reese had just given it, and her eyes stung; she turned on her side, and puked.
"Jones?"
"Give me a moment." She had nearly given in; it was just for a moment, but she remembered it. Martha Jones never gave in.
"Sorry, Martha, we don't have time for a moment."
Martha's eyes opened at the sound of pain in his voice. She turned to look at him, and bit her lip as she saw him hunched over on the sand. "How bad is it?" she asked pensively.
"Bad," he said.
"Can you move?" she asked as she got to feet and staggered to his side. "Here, let me have a look." She carefully removed his fingers, which were pressed into his stomach, easing her own into place to keep the pressure up, as she examined it. "This isn't just the the injuries from the Toclafane...you've been shot."
"Pot shot...just my luck, huh?"
"It's bad."
"It's more than bad," Reese said quietly.
"Not necessarily…," Martha murmured, her mind going through the permutations. "Doctor, remember? If we can patch you up, get you a blood transfusion—"
"I'm AB negative, Jones."
Martha's heart sank. "Trust you to have a rare blood type," she joked weakly.
He laughed, and Martha tried to blink away the tears as she noticed he had blood in his mouth; internal injuries, shit.
"Hold still," she murmured. "It mightn't be as bad as we think—"
"No, you don't understand," he said. "It's kinda funny because…this is where I came in, you see…"
"Okay, now you're just delirious," Martha muttered, as she looked around and spotted her satchel. She rooted around in it for something to bind his chest.
He clutched at her hand, there was blood on it. There was blood everywhere. "In my left sock…there's an USB key. Chances are, you'll never need to know the shit on it, what with what's happened and all, but….just in case, I'd like you to…to…."
"Derek, if you're telling me you're giving me your last will and testament, you know where to put it."
"Hey...if it all goes to plan, I'll have nothing to worry about… big magic rewind button, right?"
Martha laughed, and tried to wipe away the tears running down her face. "Yeah, big magic rewind button," she murmured.
"God, you'll believe anything, won't you?"
"I think that's the point," she snorted. She waited for his comeback; it never came. She leaned forward and closed his eyes with her hand.
"Bye, Derek," she murmured.
She got to her feet and looked around. She was on a deserted beach, and it was still night. The soft glow she saw in the north was probably San Diego. Something told her that Reese had somehow gotten her to her rendezvous point, just like he always did.
She crouched down and found the USB key in his sock. Maybe, later, she'd find a chain for it and hang it around her neck with the TARDIS key
She suspected she was in shock, but she didn't really care to think about it.
She had a boat to catch.
A world to save.
A lot of people were counting on her.
