Mission #5-B, Part Deux
“I love to travel-don’t you?
I love a change of pace
I love a change of space
I love to see a place
That’s absolutely new…”
Maybe if Maria sang it enough times, she’d start believing it. After an hour of running through the sodden streets of Cardiff, all she wanted to do was drink a large hot chocolate and take a long shower. She’d thought Moon had run in the direction of the TARDIS, but there was no sign of him.
“I hate to travel
I hate to even leave the house
I hate the-”
“YAAAAAAAH!” A dark blur with a lightsaber came at her from a convenient alley. Maria leapt back and released an arrow. It missed. The lightsaber swung dangerously close to her. “I will not submit to the sadistic will of the flowers!”
“Merde!” Maria swore, and retreated further. A bow and a truncheon were not very effective weapons against an energy sword. She needed something with lasers, or maybe something sonic. I need to get to the Hub, she realized. She wasn’t too fond of sci-fi, but she’d seen enough to know that the Torchwood Hub was the place to find alien technology in twenty-first century Cardiff.
Of course, she’d left the remote activator with Crispin. Looked like she was taking the long way. Which way was Roald Dahl Plass, exactly?
There was no more sign of Moon. Either he was off planning something nefarious, or he had no intention of killing her and only attacked her to stop her following him. Hoping it was the latter, Maria started running in what she thought was the direction of the Torchwood Hub.
***
In retrospect, Moon thought, he really should have paid more attention when Crispin had told him about TARDISes. He also should have paid more attention to what theirs had disguised itself as when it had landed. There were a thousand things it might have been on the dark and poorly-defined street by the Sue’s house.
There was no going back now. He’d attacked one of the flowers’ minions. Perhaps it was better that he couldn’t find the TARDIS. It was, after all, the creation of those who were loyal to the floral tyrants, and might contain booby traps. He would have to survive with nothing but his violin and his laser sword.
But where would he go? He was stranded in a strange continuum with no way out, and Crispin and Maria were surely in pursuit. There was no escape. No, he had to find that TARDIS. Even if it was a device born of evil, he could possibly still use it to get free of this place and find some way of stopping the flowers.
It was a dreadful plan. He needed something better.
“Are you lost again?” Moon whirled around, sword at the ready. It was the young man, the one from the hallway. He rested in a nonchalant pose against the side of a house. “Hello.”
“Who are you?” Moon brandished the sword. “Why did you give me this thing? What do you want? Are you a minion of the talking flowers?”
“Okay, first of all, ‘this thing’ is called a lightsaber, got it? And no, I am not a minion of anybody. Call me…Andy.”
“I’m Beethoven Sonata. But everyone calls me Moon. You still haven’t answered all the questions. Who are you, why did you give me this lightsaber, and what do you want?”
Andy sighed. “You’re not going to help me until I explain everything, are you?” Moon nodded. “Fine. I represent the Coalition Against Tyrannical Vegetation. You were identified as sympathetic to our cause, and I was sent to recruit you.”
“The Coalition Against Tyrannical Vegetation?” He wanted to believe it. He really wanted to believe it. But it seemed…too convenient. Moon had been born yesterday, but that didn’t mean he was stupid. “Just what is it that you do? And what does giving me a lightsaber have to do with it?”
“You don’t have to pronounce the italics. Just ‘lightsaber.’”
“All right, what does this ‘lightsaber’ have to do with it?”
“You don’t pronounce the quotation mar-never mind. It was a test, to see if you were truly devoted to the eradication of leafy dictators. And by escaping from your partners at the first opportunity, you proved that you were.”
“Huh.”
Andy could tell that Moon wasn’t convinced. “Listen, we’ll head back to my TARDIS as soon as I’ve completed my assignment, and I’ll take you to our Headquarters. Our leader can give you all the proof you need.
“You have a Headquarters?” This was a good sign. People who had Headquarters, especially with a capital H, were organized. It couldn’t hurt to just hear the man out, Moon supposed. He was very nice. “Well, I guess I could come with you. I can’t find my TARDIS anyway.”
Coriander Johnsson smiled and beckoned the innocent typo closer. “Excellent. Now, first, here’s what we have to do…”
***
“The Doctor?”
“Yeah, he's good friend of mine…even though he did leave me after I died and Rose brought me back.” He started to ramble a little but Angela didn’t mind. “So I’ve been stuck here since 1862, found out that I couldn’t die in 1892, and so I rebuilt Torchwood 3.”
“Wait…1862?”
“Yeah! That would make me…146 years old.”
“Only if you were zero years old when you arrived,” Crispin grumbled. “Honestly. Jack was obviously in his late twenties or early thirties when he met the Doctor, which would make him around one hundred and seventy-six, give or take. Math. It’s not that hard. And Jack would not be telling all this to someone he just met!”
[BEEP! Affirmative. Should I take a character reading?]
“Yes, please.” The CAD was being very helpful. This was the third time it had offered to take a reading.
[Captain Jack Harkness. Human male, immortal. Canon. OOC: 99.9999999999999% AND RISING! Cause of OOC-ness: Angela Smith. Solution: Burn Angela Smith. Turn me off! NOW!]
Crispin switched off the CAD and continued watching the Sue through the closed door. (He had borrowed what turned out to be X-ray goggles from Tosh’s desk, and was finding them very helpful.) Jack proceeded to tell her every piece of his backstory that had been known before Torchwood Series Two started. Crispin continued to moan about the characterization.
[Beep!] the CAD interrupted. [Message from Igor: Macrovirus outbreak is over, but Headquarters remains in lockdown. The final tally of casualties is uncertain but there are over a thousand Agents reported dead.] It paused. [That’s a lot.]
“Glaurung,” Crispin breathed. “That is a lot. I didn’t realize we even had that many Agents…” His breath caught on a lump in his throat that had no business being there. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to go near Voyager fandom again.”
“Crispin? You okay?” Maria had come up behind him. Crispin jumped.
“Cruk! Maria! When did you-I didn’t-yeah, I’m okay. Did you hear the news?”
“Yeah, it just came in on my CAD. Pretty…pretty sad. I keep thinking of everyone I know, and trying to remember when I last saw them. I’m so grateful we were out on a mission.” For a moment, there was a very soft, human expression on her face, but it was quickly replaced by a standard Maria look. “Hey, does Torchwood have anything that might work against a lightsaber?”
***
In the almost-empty TARDIS, the face of a talking rose appeared on one of the many screens.
We have a situation in HQ. While the macrovirus epidemic has been dealt with, a large number of Mary Sues have launched an invasion of the complex…
Enjorlas, Sir Rodric, and Benjamain watched with bemused interest as the Sub Rosa delivered her message. Some small thought in whatever they had for brains nagged that perhaps they should try to find their friend Maria, but it was soon replaced with a need for food. Benjamain was the first to attack their half-empty bowl of blood, with the other Minis soon following.
Agents, the fate of the PPC is in your hands and other appendages. Our Organisation will stand or fall based on your actions. Please -- kill them all for us so we can get back to doing our jobs.
When the Sub Rosa’s voice faded away, the only sounds to be heard were the sloshing of blood and the distant, unheeded booming of the Cloister Bell.
Onwards to Part Three!