intrikate88 | Operation Yellow

This not-quite-fic is a tribute to the drama queen of a fandom that is Doctor Who, to the wars between the Marthanites and the Rosefen Batshippers, and most of all, to Operation Yellow. THIS IS IN NO WAY AN ATTACK ON ANYONE WHO LIKES MARTHA, OR ROSE, OR WHO SHIPS MARTHA/DOCTOR, OR WHO SHIPS DOCTOR/ROSE, OR WHO LIKES DUCKS AT ALL. IT IS A FOND MUSING ON THE NATURE OF A FANDOM WHICH BRINGS ME GREAT GLEE. AND OCCASIONALLY NAUSEA. *pets fandom*

Title: Operation Yellow
Fandom: Doctor Who Fandom/ Alias
Rating: Why am I bothering with a header anyway?
Pairing: *facepalm*
A/N: Thank you,

goldy_dollar,

mrv3000,

jesidres,

ivydoor,

miladyhawke,

principia_coh, and

measi for this evening's entertainment.

"Boyscout," said Sydney, depressing the button on her headset, "I'm going in. Radio silent."

"Understood, Bluebird," Vaughn replied. "Operation Yellow is a go."

Sydney carefully removed the headset, folding it up and chucking it in the nearest wastebin. It would not due to be caught with it by the Marthanites, as she would never escape alive. Taking her key card from her pocket, she swiped it in the lock for the elevator leading to the SD-6 subbasements. SD, the covert term for those who supported relations between the Student of medicine, Martha Jones, and the Doctor: S/D. 6, of course, being the sixth letter of the alphabet, was a not-so-subtle code for the verb the letter 'F' began. They were brash and insidious, the Marthanites, and they had spies everywhere.

Once inside, she made an effort to walk normally, greeting familiar faces (there were few) and maintaining a stony indifference towards the new. Not too stony, naturally; if anyone suspected her of even liking Rose a little bit...

Well, it didn't do to think about that. Sydney reached her desk, and started up her computer, typing 'BadWolf' when prompted for her password. It was taking a risk, she knew; she never could know when the security team might monitor her computer. But she couldn't bring herself to set a password like 'FreemaRulez'; besides, half of her SD-6 coworkers had that, making it easy for her to hack in and copy their files to the CIA. The CIA: it had started out as such a derogatory term (Chavvy Indigenous Airhead) but somehow, it had stuck. They had taken the insult and made it their own, knowing that given enough time and fic-writing, it could truly be ironic.

She glanced at the clock. 7:43. Time to begin Operation Yellow, to flush out the moles. The plan? To make the Marthanite mole at the CIA panic, and reveal herself. The Intel team moderating Fandom_Wank was watching. Watching very closely indeed. She typed, "Code Yellow. Plan is in motion. Over and out. Respond?"

Looking over her cubicle, she saw Marshall, who gave her a frantic nod. She returned to the CIA-undercover-as-SD-6 LiveJournal page. "The celery stalks at midnight." popped up, then "ALERT LEVEL MAUVE. MAN DOWN!1!"

A gunshot rang out, and Sydney, along with the rest of the staff, dove under their desks. Some emerged with the handguns they had hidden there. Sydney searched through her purse for hers, but found only a duck.

"Quack," the duck opined, and Sydney had to agree. Tucking the duck back in her purse for dinner later, she crawled by chairs, heading for the exit. Once at the stairs, she ran, not knowing if she would make it to the top.
She ran from the building, out a back entrance, and took off down the alley. She didn't stop until she found herself in a park. There was a ferris wheel, and kids playing, and probably very sticky ice cream involved in all of it. It was a very sweet and fluffy sort of scene. The Marthanites wouldn't dare attack her here. She sat down on a park bench, breathing hard, and her cell phone buzzed.

"We had to abort," said Vaughn, grimly. "The Marthanites jumped on the cues far more quickly than we had anticipated. Everyone in the operation might have been lost if we hadn't pulled out in time."

Sydney bit back a groan of frustration. Every time... it was so easy to rile them, but after every conflict, both the Rosefen and the Marthanites bunkered back down in their respective secure communities, avoiding each other until the next conflict. "Did we at least catch a glimpse of the mole? Who's reporting this to Fandom Wank, Vaughn?"

"We don't know," Vaughn replied grimly. "They're like ninjas. But next time..."

"Next time," Sydney echoed, and hoped for that.