DOCTOR WHO: Shirley Bingham's Recruitment

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm trying reverse psychology on my muse, to wit: If I act as if I don't care about my unfinished fics, maybe she'll get back to them. Anyway, this is a very short one about how UNIT took on a woman in a wheelchair. This one only mentions the Doctor, and is just for fun.

UNIT HQ, Kate Stewart's office

January 5th, 2024

Kate yawned, then decided to get it over with. UNIT needed a Scientific Advisor, now more than ever since they'd become less militarised (though not totally, despite Dr. Martha Jones' laudable efforts in that regard). Kate had exactly the mindset her late father had hoped for: first and foremost, a scientist...but one who would use a weapon if pressed to. A military man to the core, he'd nevertheless seen UNIT's future.

Every day, she upheld his legacy as best she could.

UNIT had had many SAs over the years. Some, like Malcolm, had been awkward around people. Petronella Osgood, who'd had the highest IQ of any UNIT member (except one!) was sorely missed. Elizabeth Shaw had had the skill but not the temperament.

But SA 1...oh, a class act indeed, setting the bar ridiculously high.

Her musings were interrupted by Private Ivan Zbrigniev, a descendant of the officer who, with Brigadier Bambera, had met the Seventh Doctor in 1997. "Sir?"

She sighed. "We'll never let go of the military mindset, will we? I keep telling you, 'Dr. Stewart' or 'Director' will be fine."

"Sorry, sir," the young Ukranian managed. "Our first SA candidate is here."

Kate nodded. "Show them in."

"I can show myself in," a voice said tartly. "I'm handicapped, not helpless." With that, the first applicant came in.

Or rather, rolled in.

It was a woman in a wheelchair, smiling. "Shirley Bingham, late of the MoD."

Aware as she was of unconscious prejudices, Kate liked her on sight. "Kate Stewart, Director of UNIT. Did you have any problems with our metal detectors?"

Shirley grinned. "Not since I developed them, no." Kate's eyebrow rose. "They used to have a bit of trouble at first with the tungsten-titanium alloy this thing," she tapped its arm, "is made of. Plus they don't like the admixture of rhodium; they have a few problems with exotic metals."

That fact, Kate knew, was classified at the highest levels (in case any would-be troublemaker and/or enemy tried using them to make weapons), which meant Shirley was, too. "Were you appraised of the position you're applying for?"

The younger woman nodded. "UNIT Scientific Advisor, yes. I was advised against by Sir William Montgomery." She chuckled. "He gave the impression that it was too dangerous for someone in a wheelchair. He didn't realise that being put off something on account of being differently mobile makes me want it more."

Billy, as Kate fondly knew him, was simultaneously the liaison with the British Army and the MoD. He knew his stuff. But now she sobered. "Are you aware of exactly what the post entails? More importantly...of its dangers?"

"Such as Osgood getting herself killed? Oh, yes. Dealing with alien tech? Bring it on. Just...is there any chance of meeting the Doctor? Any incarnation?" She looked keen.

It's LINDA all over again, Kate thought. Shirley was obviously keen, and gung-ho to be applying - especially with all the inherent problems. "To be honest, I have absolutely no idea. In every incarnation, but especially since the Tenth, he comes and goes in a manner which looks to us to be utterly random." She smiled. "Even though he once became a she. In theory, with the Space-Time Telegraph, we can contact him. But that's for emergencies only."

"Define 'emergency'," Shirley requested.

"When we're stumped and/or the human race is in dire peril," Kate answered. "With the tech we've salvaged from Torchwood, we know more than we did. That does not mean we are prepared. That, in part, is the SA's job. The Doctor never wanted a salary, though now the position does command one. He might not need money, but we do."

"Tell me about it," Shirley winced, "cost a fortune to adapt my car."

"But you needn't worry about access," Kate went on, "since legislation was brought in to provide access in every government building, which includes UNIT HQ - though officially it doesn't exist. However," she looked gentle, "not to disparage you in any way, but you must realise realistically that you're at a bit of a disadvantage."

Shirley shrugged. "No offence meant, none taken. Oh, I know. Never let that stop me. Besides, being at the cutting, nay, bleeding edge of scientific advancement, maybe one day I'll figure out how to ditch this damn thing and be able to walk again." She sighed. "I have to admit I miss walking on the Devon moors."

"There is the possibility," Kate warned carefully, "that someone unscrupulous might use that desire, however unconscious, against you."

"Thus possibly compromising UNIT," Shirley nodded. "True. But I look at it this way: it's far, far more likely that I'll never walk again. There's a chance, yes, that I might find an answer. But I do know that it's only a chance, and a bloody slim one at that. I once dealt with a neurosurgeon who promised he could help...but he didn't know that I knew he was recruited by Al-Qaeda. I was cynical enough to check his background, and MI6 took him down. Got a citation for that." She looked earnest. "I'm not some helpless wannabe willing to believe anything. I know better."

"The position can be dangerous," Kate advised her.

"I know." Shirley grinned again. "But how many handicapped people do you know who have offensive capability?"

"Excuse me?"

"Could you spare that thing?" She indicated a statue off to one side.

"I suppose," Kate shrugged.

Shirley tapped a control - and a missile lanced out of her wheelchair, destroying the statue.

Now Kate was impressed. She'd been about to ask 'which special quality could you bring to the post?'. Now she knew.

Courage. Inventiveness. A certain bloodymindedness.

Immediately she nodded. "Welcome to UNIT."

Again Shirley grinned. "Does other things, too."

THE END