FIC: The Rutan Relics - Chapter 1
May. 18th, 2009 10:28 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nentariTitle: The Rutan Relics - Chapter 1
Author: Me
Beta-Reader:alouzon
Fandom: Doctor Who/M*A*S*H
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1315
Disclaimer: Doctor Who and all its characters belong to the BBC; M*A*S*H and all its characters belong to Twentieth Century Fox. I own nothing - not even the Fourteenth Doctor.
Summary: The Doctor returns to a place he has visited in the past to stop some old enemies from recovering something that is best left forgotten.
Warning: Spoilers for Abyssinia, Henry/Welcome to Korea.
Author's Notes: This fic is set between the M*A*S*H episodes Welcome to Korea and Change of Command; in other words, Henry Blake has recently died and Trapper has just been replaced by BJ, but Colonel Potter is yet to make his debut and kick Frank's annoying behind off the Commanding Officer position he gleefully took over with Henry's departure.
Chapter 1
Major Franklin D. Burns examined the card that was shown to him, which featured the UNIT crest at the top left corner, followed by the words:
United Nations Intelligence Taskforce
Major J. Smith, PhD.
Scientific Advisor
Electronics Expert
Chess Grand Master
It seemed genuine. At least, it was exactly like the one he saw just a year before - except, in that case, the "J. Smith" was a Colonel. He'd had no other contact with UNIT, before or since, so he could not be sure. Still, Margaret had confirmed the veracity of his story, after she did some snooping around, and that was enough for him.
He looked at this new J. Smith. This time, they had sent a woman, who kept looking at him and re-reading his nameplate on the desk with arched eyebrows and a disbelieving expression. Immediately, his mind began to weave reasons why she was among the many people against him.
"You know, Major Smith," he said, "I don't recall asking for UNIT."
"I called them, Major," Margaret hastily said.
"What?" His military composure quickly abandoned him, and his voice became whiny; Margaret was taking over his role and doing things in his place? "Why?"
"There's something going on here that requires specialized assistance," Margaret replied, never abandoning her professionalism. "The bombing last night," she added.
"Oh, right, that," he said, as he suddenly remembered. That had been a minor shelling, affecting the local population rather than the camp, and those brief attacks were so common he normally forgot all about them after everything was over.
"No need for worry, Major," said Major Smith. "We do not wish to disturb you or your staff in your routine. We will investigate the issue and leave as soon as we can."
The woman's educated English accent dissipated some of Frank's fears regarding the return of UNIT to the 4077th. She was clearly more refined than the oaf they had sent before - and indeed, more refined than any of the savages under Frank's command. And at least, unlike their predecessors, Major Smith and her assistant showed up in full uniform and were displaying proper military behavior. The Lieutenant was a dark-haired young man in his early twenties, marginally taller than O'Reilly, and had stood at attention ever since the pair had entered in his office. True, his hair was a bit too long (longer even than Pierce's disgraceful mop), but apart from that he seemed to be the perfect embodiment of proper military conduct. Frank had almost forgotten what a real soldier was supposed to be like, living in this undisciplined hellhole.
Frank looked at the card again, before handing it back to Major Smith. "Very well, then, but I really don't see why this should be reason to summon the UN."
"At this point, neither do I," Major Smith said. "Perhaps you should explain exactly what happened, so that I can judge the gravity of the situation."
"Well, I..." Frank hesitated. He did not understand what had been so unusual about this bombing, either. As far as he knew, it was like any other bombing the area had suffered in the past. This time, however, when Margaret and O'Reilly went to see if any of the locals needed assistance, they returned looking as white as chalk; the corporal had even spent some time in the latrines, being sick. And now, Margaret had gone over his head and called in UNIT.
"I'll explain everything to the Major, if that's OK with you," Margaret said quickly, trying to cover up for his indecision.
"Thank you, Margaret. I mean, Major Houlihan," he said.
Ignoring his slip-up, Margaret turned to Major Smith. "Perhaps we should get you and your assistant settled before we talk about this?"
"Very well," Major Smith said, turning to Margaret.
"Let me just call our clerk," Frank said, leaving his desk. "Excuse me," he told the Lieutenant, as he squeezed past, towards the door. "O'Reill-"
Before he finished saying his name, the young Corporal was already in the room. Frank wondered if this had been another example of his annoying clairvoyance, or if he had just been eavesdropping. Knowing the little fink, either option was possible.
"Sir?" O'Reilly asked.
"Corporal, I need you to..." He paused, as he could tell that O'Reilly wasn't listening (the fact that he wasn't repeating the order at the exact same time Frank gave it was a strong giveaway). Instead, the boy was staring at Major Smith with a shocked expression, as if the woman had suddenly grown a second head.
"O'Reilly," Frank said, in a firm voice, trying to get the boy's attention. "Corporal O'Reilly!" he finally shouted.
O'Reilly jumped. "Uh! Yes, sir?"
"O'Reilly, please help Major Smith and Lieutenant..."
"McCrimmon," the young man said, with a noticeable Scottish accent.
"...Lieutenant McCrimmon to their quarters."
"Uh, yes sir," O'Reilly said, as he stared at the Major once again, his eyes as big as saucers and his mouth open.
"Now, Corporal," Margaret said firmly. O'Reilly jumped once again.
"Oh yes, sir... I mean, ma'am. I mean... Follow me, sirs," he bumbled as he left the office, followed by the two UNIT officers.
The moment they left, Frank abandoned his military posing and returned to his normal, simpering attitude.
"Oh, Margaret," he whined, falling into his chair, "why'd you have to call them? I'm C.O. now, I should be doing these things."
"I'm sorry, my darling," Margaret said, running to him and massaging his shoulders, which made him let out a small moan, "but this was an emergency."
"But is it so bad that it had to be... them?" He began to panic. "Are we in danger? Will we have to bug out?"
"No, no, no," Margaret said, her voice motherly and comforting, as she ran her fingers through his hair and caused another moan. "Don't worry about it, Frank. Hopefully, they'll solve the problem soon and be on their way."
"I sure hope so," Frank said. "I still remember what happened last time."
It was hard to forget. A large number of locals had been electrocuted under mysterious circumstances; the doctors and support staff of the 4077th were stretched thin, responding to the flood of requests from the nearby village to examine the corpses. The few survivors told them delirious tales about green blobs, which Frank was certain was nothing but superstitious nonsense. Then, Colonel John Smith appeared out of the blue, all dressed in leather (and with an attitude that immediately rubbed Frank the wrong way), who, with his two assistants, Lieutenant Tyler and Captain Harkness, turned the whole camp upside-down before vanishing as quickly as they had appeared - but not before Harkness had molested many of the nurses (and, Frank suspected, a couple of corpsmen and an MP) and was discovered by Frank himself in Margaret's quarters, under what could only be described as very suspicious circumstances.
Truth be told, when Frank came in they were only discussing army regulations: but Frank knew he himself had used that as an excuse whenever those perverts Pierce and McIntyre tried to taint the significance of his pure, almost spiritual relationship with Margaret with their dirty minds and innuendoes. However in this case it was completely true. It had to be - the other alternative was just too painful to consider. With a pinched expression, Frank looked up at his beloved, and saw that she was red as a beet, dreamily staring into a corner of the office.
"Honeybunch, what's wrong?"
"Wh-what do you mean, Frank?" she stuttered.
"You don't look too good. Is anything the matter?"
"Oh, nothing. Nothing, really. I was just thinking what a relief it is to finally see someone competent, after last time."
"Oh yes," he said, feeling relieved that Margaret shared his sentiments. For a while, he thought she'd be disappointed that Harkness had not come this time. "Perverts," he mumbled.
Author: Me
Beta-Reader:
alouzonFandom: Doctor Who/M*A*S*H
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1315
Disclaimer: Doctor Who and all its characters belong to the BBC; M*A*S*H and all its characters belong to Twentieth Century Fox. I own nothing - not even the Fourteenth Doctor.
Summary: The Doctor returns to a place he has visited in the past to stop some old enemies from recovering something that is best left forgotten.
Warning: Spoilers for Abyssinia, Henry/Welcome to Korea.
Author's Notes: This fic is set between the M*A*S*H episodes Welcome to Korea and Change of Command; in other words, Henry Blake has recently died and Trapper has just been replaced by BJ, but Colonel Potter is yet to make his debut and kick Frank's annoying behind off the Commanding Officer position he gleefully took over with Henry's departure.
Major Franklin D. Burns examined the card that was shown to him, which featured the UNIT crest at the top left corner, followed by the words:
Major J. Smith, PhD.
Scientific Advisor
Electronics Expert
Chess Grand Master
It seemed genuine. At least, it was exactly like the one he saw just a year before - except, in that case, the "J. Smith" was a Colonel. He'd had no other contact with UNIT, before or since, so he could not be sure. Still, Margaret had confirmed the veracity of his story, after she did some snooping around, and that was enough for him.
He looked at this new J. Smith. This time, they had sent a woman, who kept looking at him and re-reading his nameplate on the desk with arched eyebrows and a disbelieving expression. Immediately, his mind began to weave reasons why she was among the many people against him.
"You know, Major Smith," he said, "I don't recall asking for UNIT."
"I called them, Major," Margaret hastily said.
"What?" His military composure quickly abandoned him, and his voice became whiny; Margaret was taking over his role and doing things in his place? "Why?"
"There's something going on here that requires specialized assistance," Margaret replied, never abandoning her professionalism. "The bombing last night," she added.
"Oh, right, that," he said, as he suddenly remembered. That had been a minor shelling, affecting the local population rather than the camp, and those brief attacks were so common he normally forgot all about them after everything was over.
"No need for worry, Major," said Major Smith. "We do not wish to disturb you or your staff in your routine. We will investigate the issue and leave as soon as we can."
The woman's educated English accent dissipated some of Frank's fears regarding the return of UNIT to the 4077th. She was clearly more refined than the oaf they had sent before - and indeed, more refined than any of the savages under Frank's command. And at least, unlike their predecessors, Major Smith and her assistant showed up in full uniform and were displaying proper military behavior. The Lieutenant was a dark-haired young man in his early twenties, marginally taller than O'Reilly, and had stood at attention ever since the pair had entered in his office. True, his hair was a bit too long (longer even than Pierce's disgraceful mop), but apart from that he seemed to be the perfect embodiment of proper military conduct. Frank had almost forgotten what a real soldier was supposed to be like, living in this undisciplined hellhole.
Frank looked at the card again, before handing it back to Major Smith. "Very well, then, but I really don't see why this should be reason to summon the UN."
"At this point, neither do I," Major Smith said. "Perhaps you should explain exactly what happened, so that I can judge the gravity of the situation."
"Well, I..." Frank hesitated. He did not understand what had been so unusual about this bombing, either. As far as he knew, it was like any other bombing the area had suffered in the past. This time, however, when Margaret and O'Reilly went to see if any of the locals needed assistance, they returned looking as white as chalk; the corporal had even spent some time in the latrines, being sick. And now, Margaret had gone over his head and called in UNIT.
"I'll explain everything to the Major, if that's OK with you," Margaret said quickly, trying to cover up for his indecision.
"Thank you, Margaret. I mean, Major Houlihan," he said.
Ignoring his slip-up, Margaret turned to Major Smith. "Perhaps we should get you and your assistant settled before we talk about this?"
"Very well," Major Smith said, turning to Margaret.
"Let me just call our clerk," Frank said, leaving his desk. "Excuse me," he told the Lieutenant, as he squeezed past, towards the door. "O'Reill-"
Before he finished saying his name, the young Corporal was already in the room. Frank wondered if this had been another example of his annoying clairvoyance, or if he had just been eavesdropping. Knowing the little fink, either option was possible.
"Sir?" O'Reilly asked.
"Corporal, I need you to..." He paused, as he could tell that O'Reilly wasn't listening (the fact that he wasn't repeating the order at the exact same time Frank gave it was a strong giveaway). Instead, the boy was staring at Major Smith with a shocked expression, as if the woman had suddenly grown a second head.
"O'Reilly," Frank said, in a firm voice, trying to get the boy's attention. "Corporal O'Reilly!" he finally shouted.
O'Reilly jumped. "Uh! Yes, sir?"
"O'Reilly, please help Major Smith and Lieutenant..."
"McCrimmon," the young man said, with a noticeable Scottish accent.
"...Lieutenant McCrimmon to their quarters."
"Uh, yes sir," O'Reilly said, as he stared at the Major once again, his eyes as big as saucers and his mouth open.
"Now, Corporal," Margaret said firmly. O'Reilly jumped once again.
"Oh yes, sir... I mean, ma'am. I mean... Follow me, sirs," he bumbled as he left the office, followed by the two UNIT officers.
The moment they left, Frank abandoned his military posing and returned to his normal, simpering attitude.
"Oh, Margaret," he whined, falling into his chair, "why'd you have to call them? I'm C.O. now, I should be doing these things."
"I'm sorry, my darling," Margaret said, running to him and massaging his shoulders, which made him let out a small moan, "but this was an emergency."
"But is it so bad that it had to be... them?" He began to panic. "Are we in danger? Will we have to bug out?"
"No, no, no," Margaret said, her voice motherly and comforting, as she ran her fingers through his hair and caused another moan. "Don't worry about it, Frank. Hopefully, they'll solve the problem soon and be on their way."
"I sure hope so," Frank said. "I still remember what happened last time."
It was hard to forget. A large number of locals had been electrocuted under mysterious circumstances; the doctors and support staff of the 4077th were stretched thin, responding to the flood of requests from the nearby village to examine the corpses. The few survivors told them delirious tales about green blobs, which Frank was certain was nothing but superstitious nonsense. Then, Colonel John Smith appeared out of the blue, all dressed in leather (and with an attitude that immediately rubbed Frank the wrong way), who, with his two assistants, Lieutenant Tyler and Captain Harkness, turned the whole camp upside-down before vanishing as quickly as they had appeared - but not before Harkness had molested many of the nurses (and, Frank suspected, a couple of corpsmen and an MP) and was discovered by Frank himself in Margaret's quarters, under what could only be described as very suspicious circumstances.
Truth be told, when Frank came in they were only discussing army regulations: but Frank knew he himself had used that as an excuse whenever those perverts Pierce and McIntyre tried to taint the significance of his pure, almost spiritual relationship with Margaret with their dirty minds and innuendoes. However in this case it was completely true. It had to be - the other alternative was just too painful to consider. With a pinched expression, Frank looked up at his beloved, and saw that she was red as a beet, dreamily staring into a corner of the office.
"Honeybunch, what's wrong?"
"Wh-what do you mean, Frank?" she stuttered.
"You don't look too good. Is anything the matter?"
"Oh, nothing. Nothing, really. I was just thinking what a relief it is to finally see someone competent, after last time."
"Oh yes," he said, feeling relieved that Margaret shared his sentiments. For a while, he thought she'd be disappointed that Harkness had not come this time. "Perverts," he mumbled.
