Fic: A Spot Of Bother
Title: A Spot Of Bother
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto, Jack.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Ianto is still getting used to space flight, so having a bunch of warning lights flashing at him is a bit alarming.
Word Count: 1045
Written For: Prompt 220 - Overheated at fandomweekly.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters. They belong to the BBC.
A/N: Set in my Ghost of a Chance ‘Verse.
When several little red warning lights started flashing on their spaceship’s control console at the same time, Ianto was understandably concerned. He’d only been in the cargo haulage business for a few short months, was still getting used to spending weeks at a time travelling through the vacuum of space, and a host of red lights suddenly appearing in place of the ones that usually showed a clear and reassuring green was not something he’d been expecting. Especially not when they were still five days out from their next destination, and he was alone on the bridge.
Jack was down in the main hold, checking their cargo, because the corner of one of the nets that held all the crates, rolls, and bundles in place during transit had come loose. As with most cargo carriers, the artificial gravity was turned off in the Happy Wanderer’s holds while the ship was in flight in order to conserve power, so everything had to be securely strapped down to prevent damage to both the cargo and the ship. Having loose objects bouncing all over the place while they were travelling through the vortex would be hazardous, which meant someone had needed to re-secure the net right away. Ianto could only hope Jack had fixed that problem, because with all these new warning lights flashing, he was completely out of his depth.
He hit the button for the onboard communications system. “Uh, Jack? You there?”
“Where else would I be?”
That was a good question, but Ianto ignored it. “I need you back on the bridge right away. We have a problem.” Another red light blinked on. “Oh crap! You have got to be kidding me! Um, make that seven problems.”
“That’s an oddly specific number.”
“Yes, well, that’s the number of flashing red warning lights I’m looking at. I didn’t touch anything, I swear, I’ve just been sitting here trying to read the manual, and all of a sudden…” He trailed off, quickly flicking through the manual, resisting the urge to throw it across the bridge. “I don’t know what to do! I know there’s a section on warning lights and what they mean, I saw it earlier, but now I can’t find it, and I can’t tell what the lights are trying to warn me about, whether we’re low on oil, or the life support’s failing, or the ship’s about to blow up…” Ianto was aware he might, possibly, sound mildly hysterical, so he shut up.
“Okay, calm down. I’m on my way.”
“Hurry!”
“It’ll be fine, Ianto. We’re not going to blow up.”
“You don’t know that!”
“I do. If we were in danger of blowing up, there’d be sirens blaring throughout the ship, along with a message telling us to head for the nearest lifepod. Are you hearing anything like that?”
“Well, no.” Despite the flashing lights, there were no blaring sirens in evidence.
“Then we’re not blowing up, and life support is fine too. It’s probably just one of the engines, or a minor systems failure. The alert mechanisms are extremely sensitive, the slightest thing can trigger them, which means minor problems can be fixed as soon as they occur, before they can turn into something major. Admittedly, seven warning lights at once is a bit much, not something that happens very often, but there’s no reason to panic.”
Ianto took a deep breath and let it out slowly, willing himself to relax. “Okay. I hope you’re right.”
“We’ll know in a couple of minutes. I’m almost to the main companionway.”
Sure enough, less than two minutes later, Jack arrived on the bridge and slid into the pilot’s chair, raking his gaze across the blinking lights on the panel before flipping several switches, dropping them out of the vortex. Moments later, the faint vibration running through the ship, something it had taken Ianto weeks to get used to, cut off.
“Jack? What did you do?”
“Cut power to the engines. The vortex generators are fine, but the port stabilisation jets are overheating, and that’s putting strain on the other jets as they attempt to compensate, which is why we have a bunch of other red lights coming on.”
Ianto watched as one after another, warning lights winked off again, until only one was flashing its danger signal. He breathed a sigh of relief; one system with problems didn’t seem nearly as bad as seven.
“What do we do now?”
“We drift and wait for the port jets to cool, which shouldn’t take long. It’s cold in space. Once the temperature drops far enough, I’ll suit up and go out there, see if I can find the cause of the problem and fix it.”
“And if you can’t?”
“Then we power up again, set course for the closest space station, and keep an eye on the port jets, shutting down for an hour or so every time the temperature climbs high enough for the warning light to come on. Shouldn’t put us too far behind schedule, and we’ll probably be able to make up most of the time we lose once we get the problem dealt with.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“It is. I’m only sorry we’re not in a sector of space covered by the IRS.”
Ianto glanced across at his lover, confused. “Internal revenue?”
Jack barked a laugh. “Hardly! Not sure the taxman would be much use. Out here, IRS stands for Interstellar Rescue Services, sort of the spaceship version of the AA.”
“Oh, yes, that makes more sense.” Ianto fell silent for a few minutes, frowning. “Do spaceships often overheat?”
“The ships themselves? Very rarely, unless the onboard temperature controls get stuck, or the thermostat breaks. Engines though… Components wear out over time, break, jam up, things like that, so I wouldn’t say often, but between the main impulse engines, the vortex drive, the four sets of stabilisation jets, and the docking jets, something similar crops up every few years. You’ll get used to it, and next time it happens, you’ll know what to do.”
“Drop back into normal space and turn the engines off.”
“Exactly.” Jack grinned. “You learn fast!”
“Yes, well, being way out in space, light years from the nearest spaceship repair facility, is an excellent motivator.”
The End
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto, Jack.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Ianto is still getting used to space flight, so having a bunch of warning lights flashing at him is a bit alarming.
Word Count: 1045
Written For: Prompt 220 - Overheated at fandomweekly.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters. They belong to the BBC.
A/N: Set in my Ghost of a Chance ‘Verse.
When several little red warning lights started flashing on their spaceship’s control console at the same time, Ianto was understandably concerned. He’d only been in the cargo haulage business for a few short months, was still getting used to spending weeks at a time travelling through the vacuum of space, and a host of red lights suddenly appearing in place of the ones that usually showed a clear and reassuring green was not something he’d been expecting. Especially not when they were still five days out from their next destination, and he was alone on the bridge.
Jack was down in the main hold, checking their cargo, because the corner of one of the nets that held all the crates, rolls, and bundles in place during transit had come loose. As with most cargo carriers, the artificial gravity was turned off in the Happy Wanderer’s holds while the ship was in flight in order to conserve power, so everything had to be securely strapped down to prevent damage to both the cargo and the ship. Having loose objects bouncing all over the place while they were travelling through the vortex would be hazardous, which meant someone had needed to re-secure the net right away. Ianto could only hope Jack had fixed that problem, because with all these new warning lights flashing, he was completely out of his depth.
He hit the button for the onboard communications system. “Uh, Jack? You there?”
“Where else would I be?”
That was a good question, but Ianto ignored it. “I need you back on the bridge right away. We have a problem.” Another red light blinked on. “Oh crap! You have got to be kidding me! Um, make that seven problems.”
“That’s an oddly specific number.”
“Yes, well, that’s the number of flashing red warning lights I’m looking at. I didn’t touch anything, I swear, I’ve just been sitting here trying to read the manual, and all of a sudden…” He trailed off, quickly flicking through the manual, resisting the urge to throw it across the bridge. “I don’t know what to do! I know there’s a section on warning lights and what they mean, I saw it earlier, but now I can’t find it, and I can’t tell what the lights are trying to warn me about, whether we’re low on oil, or the life support’s failing, or the ship’s about to blow up…” Ianto was aware he might, possibly, sound mildly hysterical, so he shut up.
“Okay, calm down. I’m on my way.”
“Hurry!”
“It’ll be fine, Ianto. We’re not going to blow up.”
“You don’t know that!”
“I do. If we were in danger of blowing up, there’d be sirens blaring throughout the ship, along with a message telling us to head for the nearest lifepod. Are you hearing anything like that?”
“Well, no.” Despite the flashing lights, there were no blaring sirens in evidence.
“Then we’re not blowing up, and life support is fine too. It’s probably just one of the engines, or a minor systems failure. The alert mechanisms are extremely sensitive, the slightest thing can trigger them, which means minor problems can be fixed as soon as they occur, before they can turn into something major. Admittedly, seven warning lights at once is a bit much, not something that happens very often, but there’s no reason to panic.”
Ianto took a deep breath and let it out slowly, willing himself to relax. “Okay. I hope you’re right.”
“We’ll know in a couple of minutes. I’m almost to the main companionway.”
Sure enough, less than two minutes later, Jack arrived on the bridge and slid into the pilot’s chair, raking his gaze across the blinking lights on the panel before flipping several switches, dropping them out of the vortex. Moments later, the faint vibration running through the ship, something it had taken Ianto weeks to get used to, cut off.
“Jack? What did you do?”
“Cut power to the engines. The vortex generators are fine, but the port stabilisation jets are overheating, and that’s putting strain on the other jets as they attempt to compensate, which is why we have a bunch of other red lights coming on.”
Ianto watched as one after another, warning lights winked off again, until only one was flashing its danger signal. He breathed a sigh of relief; one system with problems didn’t seem nearly as bad as seven.
“What do we do now?”
“We drift and wait for the port jets to cool, which shouldn’t take long. It’s cold in space. Once the temperature drops far enough, I’ll suit up and go out there, see if I can find the cause of the problem and fix it.”
“And if you can’t?”
“Then we power up again, set course for the closest space station, and keep an eye on the port jets, shutting down for an hour or so every time the temperature climbs high enough for the warning light to come on. Shouldn’t put us too far behind schedule, and we’ll probably be able to make up most of the time we lose once we get the problem dealt with.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“It is. I’m only sorry we’re not in a sector of space covered by the IRS.”
Ianto glanced across at his lover, confused. “Internal revenue?”
Jack barked a laugh. “Hardly! Not sure the taxman would be much use. Out here, IRS stands for Interstellar Rescue Services, sort of the spaceship version of the AA.”
“Oh, yes, that makes more sense.” Ianto fell silent for a few minutes, frowning. “Do spaceships often overheat?”
“The ships themselves? Very rarely, unless the onboard temperature controls get stuck, or the thermostat breaks. Engines though… Components wear out over time, break, jam up, things like that, so I wouldn’t say often, but between the main impulse engines, the vortex drive, the four sets of stabilisation jets, and the docking jets, something similar crops up every few years. You’ll get used to it, and next time it happens, you’ll know what to do.”
“Drop back into normal space and turn the engines off.”
“Exactly.” Jack grinned. “You learn fast!”
“Yes, well, being way out in space, light years from the nearest spaceship repair facility, is an excellent motivator.”
The End