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Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart did not become an officer just to do personnel. Unfortunately, he found himself once again across the desk from a perspective hire less than one year since he interviewed Miss Shaw.
“Your qualifications, Mrs. Miller, are satisfactory, but I must ask: how were the scientists you assisted? Absentminded? Singular? Rude?” The Brigadier leaned forward in his chair. Mrs. Miller was quite the opposite of Miss Shaw – middle-aged, her credentials full of secretarial work, not citations in scientific journals or her current lab work. He hoped this would bode well – a woman used to taking commands, not a career woman with ambitions.
“Oh, I’ve helped many different types of scientists, Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, some downright unpleasant. But I can woo any of them over – they absolutely adore my style of organization. They can be so forgetful they can miss the glasses on their face, and I’ll have a four-step plan to keep that from happening again!” She smiled pertly and clasped her hands. She would certainly brighten up the office; he couldn’t remember the last time he saw someone practically glowing in UNIT headquarters.
“The Dr. – Dr. John Smith. He’s a very strange man, Mrs. Miller. Sometimes he will go days without talking to anyone, or leaving his lab – including nights. Are you ready for those long hours?” The Brigadier thought back to an incident where the Doctor stayed in his lab for a week straight, surviving on brandy, cigars, and repeated listens to A Love Supreme. Miss Shaw eventually threatened to break the record over his head if the Doctor continued.
“Most of the professors I’ve assisted were more than happy to take my ministrations and suggestions and learn to balance their work and their personal life. I’m sure Dr. Smith just needs a bit of cajoling,” she suggested.
Mrs. Miller seemed to believe that anything was possible with a schedule and a sunny disposition. Maybe the Doctor needed a bit of a schedule, to keep him in order – and maybe it needed to come from someone not in a suit.
“If you’re certain you’re up to the challenge, Mrs. Miller, I welcome your talents. Welcome to UNIT.” He offered his hand, and she took it, her grip a little too firm and her arm pumping a little too furiously.
“Oh, I’m positively excited to join UNIT, Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart. I love the opportunity to help science in new and exciting ways!”
“Please understand, I am not a quitter, Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, but I do not take kindly to being called a hyperactive lumpen busybody with no boundaries. And that was just the beginning!” Mrs. Miller said, her mascara running down her face. She held a crisp, freshly-typed resignation in her right hand, her left hand carrying her purse and coat.
"That was just the beginning, Mrs. Miller?” The Brigadier said incredulously, looking up from his desk. The poor woman was distraught, her eyes streaked with red and her nose running.
“I tried, Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart. I gave him his morning tea, as he asked. I set an agenda for him every day and checked every two hours to see how he was keeping course. But, if I am to be thanked by being insulted at every turn, by being called a micromanaging nag with no hobbies - I will not have it.” She furiously wiped her face and planted the resignation firmly on his desk. “I am done, Brigadier. I am sad to be leaving UNIT under such circumstances, but I cannot work under these conditions.” She turned around and stormed down the hallway, her heels clacking on the hardwood floor.
The Brigadier leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. One week. How did this man successfully rid himself of an assistant in one week? It would be impressive, if it wasn’t irritating.
___
The Brigadier didn’t care much for Mr. Restam in person. He had a glare that seemed to bore into his soul, and his voice was a little too velvety, like he was trying to lull him to sleep. Still, he replied quickly to his offer to interview for the position, and he had several positions as a lab assistant. Hopefully he would have more staying power than the last two of Dr. Smith’s assistants.
“Now, Mr. Restam,” the Brigadier said, leaning forward. “I want you to know, we are having some difficulty retaining assistants for Dr. Smith. Once they discover the nature of the position, many of them leave. Do you think you will be able to handle this sort of challenge?”
“Of course, Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart. I am used to many high pressure environments, including ones with top secret information at hand.” He smiled, but the Brigadier felt his stomach tense. He kept trying to make prolonged eye contact with him, but the Brigadier blinked, keeping the man at a distance.
“It’s not the secretive nature of the job, Mr. Restam, as much as it is Dr. Smith. He can be a difficult man to work with; brilliant, but difficult. Would you be able to handle such a man?”
“What is a science lab but full of ego? I have had my fair share of balancing egos, Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart. I will be more than capable of handling Dr. Smith. And who knows? Maybe he may appreciate a man of such intellect and rigor as myself.” He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers together. Maybe Mr. Restam did have a point; the Doctor might appreciate a man in his lab instead…
“I am certain Dr. Smith would appreciate another man in his lab,” the Brigadier agreed, holding out his hand. Mr. Restam took it, his grip strong and his eyes unflinching.
“Yes, Brigadier, I am certain he would.”
“Brigadier?” The Doctor stood in his office doorway, working at a gadget in his hand. “I had to let my assistant go. Could you please find me a suitable one, this time?”
The Brigadier dropped his pen and looked up from his papers. “You let Mr. Restam go? It’s only been a day.”
“Yes, pity that. Turns out it was my old enemy from the academy days, the Master. He wanted access to my lab and TARDIS, but I wouldn’t let him in the room. He thought his perception filter was strong enough for me not to notice it was him, but it was absolutely old hat. Really, he needs to work on his plans and disguises better if he wants to fool me.” The gadget in his hands made a whirring noise under his ministrations. “Hmm, shouldn’t be making that sound.”
The Brigadier rubbed his temples. “Your assistant, that we hired, was an old enemy of yours. And you deposed of him?”
“Yes, he’s headed back to our home planet, should be there in a few minutes, I suppose. Now, please don’t be too long in hiring a replacement, it can be incredibly exhausting working in there by myself.” The gadget glowed red after a quick turn from his screwdriver. “Oh, now that’s odd,” he muttered to himself, turning away and walking down the hall. “Maybe if I solder these two wires here…” his voice grew smaller.
The Brigadier stared at the papers on his desk for what seemed to be and hour, the words blurring into black smears on white. The man’s alien intelligence had better be worth the trouble this was causing Geneva.
___
The Brigadier buried his face in his hands. He had many frustrating events in his career – trying to keep the Cybermen from successfully invading London, fighting off an army of animated mannequins. But nothing compared to this: the impossible task of finding the Doctor a new assistant. He would come home at night, take his dinner in his study, and go to bed without saying goodnight to his wife or children. He lay in bed without sleeping, trying to figure out the best strategy to handle this man.
Finally, he had a breakthrough – Captain Mike Yates’ sister.
Captain Yates had said his kid sister was fresh from school and completely uninterested in work, no matter what was thrown her way – secretarial work, teaching, being a shop girl. Maybe, just maybe, this girl’s utter lack of enthusiasm would break him and make him somewhat more agreeable.
He stood up straight in his chair and called the girl in. She snapped her gum and sat down without meeting his eyes.
The Brigadier cleared his throat. “Miss Yates?”
“Hmm. Yes, hello, sir.” She crossed and uncrossed her legs, looking at her nails.
“Miss Yates, I am asking you here for a position. Would you be interested in working in a lab?” he asked.
“Hmm, yeah, I suppose so. What’s it like? Tubes and stuff?” She picked at the skin around her nail bed.
“Primarily helping Dr. Smith with his experiments, and anything that may come from our investigations here at UNIT. This is a very secretive and stressful job at times, Miss Yates. You will have to deal with strange sights and a very demanding boss, Dr. John Smith. He may insult you or make stressful demands of you. Do you think you are up to the task, Miss Yates?”
“Sure, a check’s a check, right?” She met his gaze and popped her gum. The Brigadier blinked and clasped his hands together on his desk.
“Okay, Miss Yates. I think you may have the absolute tenacity to handle the Doctor. Welcome aboard.” He held out his hand, and Miss Yates gave it a quick shake before standing up.
“Do you have a light?” she asked, pulling out a cigarette.
The Brigadier pulled out a lighter and ushered her out into the hallway, praying this would be the last time he’d have to make a hiring decision this year.
The clock on the Brigadier’s desk clicked to three o’clock when he saw Miss Yates walk past his door, her coat and purse on, another cigarette dangling from her hands. He furrowed his brows and went to his door, watching Miss Yates walk down the hallway, to the exit.
“Miss Yates, where are you going?”
“Home. The Doctor sacked me.” She took a drag from her cigarette and blew the smoke into the hallway.
“Sacked you? Why?”
“Said if I was gonna sit and read a magazine all day I wasn’t worth the five quid an hour, and told me to leave. Mike said not to wait for him so I’m going home.” She took another drag and waved goodbye to the Brigadier. “Cheers, mate.” She turned on her heel and opened the doors, a plume of smoke billowing behind her.
“Blast, blast, blast,” the Brigadier groused under his breath. He went back to his office, wracking his brain. There had to be someone – maybe he would finally call in his favor with James Grant about his niece.