VS3:08 -- "Crash Course", Part One
Dr. Megan Muli's first mission with Torchwood involves a rescue at sea, a mysterious alien disease, and uncomfortable revelations from her new team-mates.
Crash Course
by: beesandbrews, lawsontl
The bow of the Sea Queen II bounced an easy rhythm as she cut the wakes of other craft out for an evening cruise on Cardiff Bay. Dr. Megan Muli hoped her first trip out on Torchwood's speedboat wouldn't involve something as weird as guilt-noshing larvae. Jumping in head first was fine, but so was the slow and easy approach. Though Captain Harkness apparently disagreed with taking anything slowly. The inner harbour's five-knot speed limit was making his hand twitch on the throttle.
"So, Doc," he asked, casting a glance back at the stern where she was seated on a padded bench, her close-cropped hair covered with a crinkled cotton scarf to protect it from the frigid night air. "What do you think's the strangest thing the Rift's ever dumped in the drink?"
She looked toward Ianto Jones who was focused on the boat's navigation readouts. Glowing displays showed satellite data, and he was busy correlating it with feeds from Torchwood's Hub. He didn’t seem to be interested in participating in the conversation.
She shrugged, stuffing her hands into the thigh pockets of her cargo trousers. "I don't know, a spaceship?"
"You're thinking like a civilian," the captain laughed, returning his attention to the bay. They passed a small yacht that had dropped anchor so a group of university students could get rowdy offshore. The students yelled and waved, warmed by copious amounts of alcohol, and Muli watched bemused, as the captain successfully flirted with every one of them while the boats shared the waterway.
She shook her head. "What's stranger than a spaceship?"
Ianto snorted softly. "An arch of pink and gold balloons from a birthday party in 1923."
She threw Ianto a sceptical look. "How’d you know they were from 1923? Maybe they were from a fancy dress party or..."
"The temporal residue all over the balloons was a hint," Jack interrupted.
"And the banner attached that read 'Congratulations Dear Araminta, 23 in '23'," Ianto added, not bothering to look away from the console.
Temporal residue. Muli filed the term away along with two dozen other phrases she'd learnt that day. "So, how do we know we're not picking up another of Araminta's party favours this time?"
"Distress signal." Ianto motioned to his PDA.
"And readings from the-" Jack cut himself off as they hit a choppy patch, the boat listing rudely. He dropped into the captain's chair, speeding up so they could cut over the waves with less turbulence. When they were in the clear, he looked a bit green at the gills and waved Ianto to the helm. They exchanged looks that briefly converged on Dr. Muli before the captain disappeared below deck.
"Signal source has a unique plasma signature." Ianto continued as if they hadn't been interrupted, one hand on the wheel, the other offering her his PDA. He pointed to a bright blue line in the lower third of the screen. "You won't see that with terrestrial technology."
She glanced at it, noting the shape for future reference but unable to shunt her physician's training. "Is the captain seasick? You'd be surprised how well ginger root or a simple acupressure technique can help prevent it."
Ianto stared out toward the horizon. "No, I think it's just a bit of bother he picked up from Gwen."
"And she caught it from Rhys," Jack added, emerging again, his face flushed and damp. "False alarm anyway." Ianto shrugged and stepped aside, returning the helm to the captain's control.
"Well, the birds will be happier tonight," she said.
"How's that?" Ianto asked. "Ten degrees starboard."
Jack turned the wheel. "I think I see it."
"Do you know how many birds die every year by suffocating on balloons that people release? It's ridiculous."
"Got it!" Jack called out, his voice booming.
"Where?" Dr. Muli stood up, steadying herself with one of the chromed handrails. "All I see is a lump in the water."
"Exactly," Jack replied. He cut the engines and let the Sea Queen II drift in. "This isn't a ship. It's a life pod."
Ianto climbed to the port side, quickly tying off buoys. But his precautions weren't necessary; Jack guided the boat right up to the pod without touching its elegantly narrow hull. They came to a stop, and Jack whistled his appreciation.
"Recognise it?" Ianto asked.
"No, but I still want whatever ship it came from," he replied, rocking on his heels eagerly.
"What's left of it, you mean," Dr. Muli corrected. "Seeing as you said this is a life pod."
"Yeah," he acknowledged with a grimace. "Shame." He shucked his greatcoat onto the captain's chair and followed it with his shirt, pulling the braces back up over his shoulders.
"What are you doing?" Muli moved toward Jack. She looked at Ianto for support, but he shrugged.
"Rescue mission," Jack replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You're supposed to look for stuff to rescue."
"Can't we scan for that?" She waved toward Ianto, only when her eyes followed her hand, she realised he'd already put down his PDA.
Ianto shook his head. "No good, can't get readings through its hull," he replied, snapping on a pair of latex gloves. In his gray wool overcoat, he resembled nothing so much as the confused offspring of a surgeon and an accountant.
It all seemed a bit surreal: standing on the deck of a boat, the lights of Cardiff reflecting off the water, and the life pod from a spaceship floating next to them. Megan peeked over the rail, unable to hide the awe in her voice. "So we just...?"
"Crack the nut!" Jack answered, an eager grin on his face. He straddled the railing, poking at the pod with his boot. "It'll hold me," he said, taking the hand Ianto offered to steady him. "Light!"
A second later, Ianto trained a searchlight onto the pod. It was nothing short of spectacular: at least as long as the boat, a deep blue-black and non-reflective. It also seemed aware of the captain's presence. As he climbed aboard, he carefully lowered himself to all fours and felt around for some type of hatch. The surface seemed to be following him, like eyes in a painting. Minus the eyes.
"Aho!" Without explanation, Jack tucked his fingers together and began easing his hand into an organic portal that seemed to have appeared from nowhere. It made disturbingly moist, yielding noises.
Megan started to protest the irresponsibility of his actions, but Ianto raised a hand and shook his head. She wasn't sure if that meant there was nothing to worry about, or if it was simply a lost cause where the captain was concerned. Well, if it was the latter, she didn't have to join in his stupidity. While Ianto pretended fascination with the searchlight, she opened her medkit and geared up with latex gloves and a disposable facemask. It was better than nothing. Being one of the first human doctors to work with an alien species was exciting, but even excitement needed boundaries.
A moment later, the pod made an awful squelching noise. Fearing the captain had slipped in or, worse, been eaten by some giant, pod-shaped alien, she ran back to the edge of the boat only to find he had his arms through a neat opening in the hull, manipulating controls. While he was doing that, he was also making odd sounds, and something inside the pod was making similarly odd responses. He was, she realised, communicating. And a moment later, she learnt with what. He sat back on his heels, and the strangest creature she'd ever seen was hanging limply in his arms.
It had vaguely bluish skin, though that could have been a trick of the camera flash as Ianto snapped a photograph of the rescue. What she was certain of were its legs and arms: it had far too many of them. Four of each, to be exact. From head to toes - were they properly called toes? - it was barely a meter long. It also had four eyes, though they were only half-open, and they seemed focused entirely on the captain.
Ianto stretched over the side of the boat, and Megan grabbed his belt, securing him so he could take the creature from the captain's arms. It was a delicate and clumsy transfer, Harkness nearly dropping his charge. But the alien was lucid enough to realise that going for a swim in the icy water wasn't in its best interest and came around at the critical moment to grab for Ianto's throat, clinging to his head with its overabundant limbs.
"That the only one?" she asked Jack, figuring that the size of the pod was a hint that it wasn't a single-passenger craft.
He nodded once, his expression grim. "The rest died before we got here." He pressed another lever, and the pod became a floating tomb.
"Was it able to tell you what happened?" she asked while turning her attention to Ianto as he laid the survivor out on deck, wiping something gooey from his face with only the faintest trace of a galled expression. She imagined they'd got pretty used to that sort of thing. He certainly knew to get out of her way and, for that, she was grateful. Nothing annoyed her more than people getting underfoot when she was trying to help a patient in crisis.
"It only spoke a little Galactic Standard, but something about a fever. Let's get this baby tied off so we can haul it in."
"It felt cold to me," Ianto pointed out as he tossed the captain a rope. "Cold-blooded or just a different core temperature than humans?"
Jack shrugged. "Dunno. Doc, meet your first patient."
She really had no idea where to start. It looked vaguely humanoid, so, for lack of a better idea, she grabbed a stethoscope and moved toward where she expected its heart should be. It recoiled and made a noise like fear. The captain gave another series of clicks and grunts at it.
Whatever he said calmed it down, and she slowly moved the stethoscope to its chest, pressing gently. She almost leapt up at what she heard. "Two heartbeats!" she marvelled.
"Oh, bloody hell," Ianto sighed, rubbing his forehead.
"It's not, Ianto, really." Jack sounded weary, and the look he gave the other man only confounded matters.
"What?" Dr. Muli asked, confused. "If there's a playbook, you could've shown it to me."
"Nothing, Doc," Jack laughed, once again the charming captain. "Not at all unusual for life forms to have two hearts. With that many limbs, it probably needs them to get enough circulation."
She didn't waste time with evolutionary questions like 'Why not a larger heart?'. Instead, she pulled out a digital thermometer and guessed for the best place to take a reading. Ianto had been right, much cooler than the human body. But it definitely acted uncomfortable, provided that what she knew about human body language applied. Again, with no better ideas, she grabbed a cold pack from her medkit and cracked the ampoule inside, mixing it up quickly.
Her offering confused the alien until she gestured for it to touch it. This much she was accustomed to. Language barriers were nothing new. It reached out slowly and, when it felt the cool surface of the pack, grabbed it greedily, pressing it not to its forehead - like a human - but to its chest, over the hearts. It actually made quite a lot of sense. Cool the blood, cool the body.
"All I can offer it on the boat is palliative care," she said, watching Ianto helping the captain climb aboard. "We need to get it back to the Hub."
Jack staggered for a moment then shook his head as if to clear it before dropping into the navigation seat. "We'll go straight to the dock. Ianto can haul the pod back to the boat house after he drops us off."
Ianto wiped his brow, nodding silently, and threw the boat into gear.
"Easy!" Dr. Muli snapped, grabbing the bench seat to keep from falling on the alien.
"Sorry, too much torque," he mumbled. "Jack apparently feels the need for a boat capable of space travel."
She righted her medkit and returned her attention to the alien. Looking it over in open wonder, she realised it was staring right back at her, just as curious. No doubt it was thinking how unusual she was with only two eyes, two pairs of limbs, and brown skin.
She grabbed another cold pack and mixed it up then propped it under the alien's neck like a pillow. It seemed to appreciate this, its limbs unclenching a bit. But it made an expression that would be considered more of a grimace. Still, this cobalt-coloured E.T. had been fairly consistent with her nonverbal expectations. She pulled down her mask and did her best to duplicate its expression. It blinked once before closing its eyes; they'd established a rudimentary trust. She turned to her new teammates in triumph, but Jack was staring at Ianto, brow furrowed. For his part, Ianto was ignoring them both in favour of the distant lights of Mermaid Quay. So much for that team bonding moment.
"The first time I saw a weevil, I thought it was some bloke in a mask playing silly buggers," Gwen said to JJ as they entered the cells.
"You sound almost like it's a fond memory," JJ replied. He looked at the weevil confined behind the thick Plexiglas wall and stood a little taller, as he'd been instructed, straightening his spine and forcing himself to regard the creature with casual interest. Show no fear. It was hard to imagine anybody not seeing the alien for what it was. Unless you were at a distance, there was something distinctly inhuman about the oversized head and swaying gait.
Gwen looked at him, surprise in her wide brown eyes. "Do I?" She smiled, looking slightly abashed. "I suppose, compared to some of the things I've seen since then, it is. I watched a weevil tear a man's throat open that day. He bled to death right in front of me. And then this lot," she said, waving her hand in the general direction of the upper Hub, "turned up and showed me there's a whole world I knew nothing about."
On the other side of the cell door, the weevil inside crouched and bayed. The eerie sound resonated against the ancient stones of the cell walls. It sent a shiver down JJ's spine but no longer made his blood run cold. Further down the row, another weevil answered the cry.
Gwen frowned. She examined the dark-eyed creature with near sympathy, her lips forming a moue. "Now, Janet, don't fuss," she said in a soothing tone. Gwen turned to JJ. "They do this sometimes, the baying. Jack thinks they've got some sort of communal consciousness or telepathy that helps them know when there's trouble or danger."
"It's hard to believe they're intelligent," JJ said, taking a step closer to the barrier.
"Oh, they are, but not in a way we understand," Gwen replied. She looked at the weevil in its Torchwood-branded boiler suit, tilting her head thoughtfully so her dark hair spilled over one shoulder. "It's hard to know what to make of them," she admitted. "At times they seem quite gentle. They mostly keep to themselves down in the sewers. Really kind of a public service they do, keeping the drains clean. But, every so often, something drives them a bit mad, and they come to the surface." She shrugged at JJ. "And that's when we get involved. If we can calm them down, we send them back, let their own take care of them. If we can't, we bring them back here to cool down a bit."
JJ grimaced as he watched Janet. Although he supposed they didn't have much of an alternative, the idea that any sentient creature could be locked up without due process was morally repugnant. He couldn't help himself. As he looked around the dank chamber with its stone walls and inadequate lighting, he began to compose the first lines of a story about abuse of alien life forms.
"It's for their own good," Gwen replied, as if sensing his thoughts. "Jack usually lets them go, eventually, and in the meantime we study them."
Janet bayed, this time snapping her sharp yellow teeth at Gwen. JJ couldn't see anything friendly or intelligent in the behaviour. He took a step backward just as the proximity alarm sounded.
"I suppose the handling lesson will have to wait," Gwen said. "Let's go see what the cat's dragged in."
Janet wailed again and, this time, JJ didn't bother concealing his nerves as he hurried out of the cells.
Gwen couldn't help noticing the grim scowl on Jack's face as he entered the Hub. She pasted on a cheerful smile and went to greet him. "Nice time out on the boat, was it?"
Jack didn't reply. He shook off the hand she placed on his arm and started to stalk back out, only to be nearly run over by Ianto and Dr. Muli as they briskly guided a trolley off the lift. "Hey, watch it!" Jack warned, a distinct undercurrent of anger in his voice.
Gwen gave a hand signal to JJ, sending him a silent instruction to head up to the catwalk and out of the way until whatever dust had been kicked up on the mission settled.
"All right, Doc," Jack said, pivoting back into the medical bay, neatly dancing out of Ianto's path as he hustled to retrieve the rest of their equipment. "Time for some 'on the job' training." He opened a drawer, exposing a rack of medical instruments. "In here are the basic diagnostic tools. The type you're already familiar with: stethoscope, blood pressure cuff..."
Muli ignored Jack, working with the tools she'd already removed from the portable medical kit to continue her examination of the alien.
"I'm talking here," Jack said, waving a thermometer in her face.
"And I'm busy, Captain," she snapped back. "Now be a good man and get out from underfoot."
"You're the doctor," Jack said. He put a hand on Muli's shoulder. She shrugged it off and muttered something about multiple respiratory systems. "But you're the rookie at Torchwood. We've got tools, diagnostic gear, that you don't see in your average A&E." He lifted a heavy volume off the counter. "And you know that playbook you asked about? How many medical libraries carry the Cleverness Guide to Alien Anatomy?"
Muli spared a glance at the book. "Fine," she said. "Make yourself useful. Find this species in that book. Put it somewhere I can see it. And then get out from under my feet." She picked up one of the alien's arms and held it at the wrist, feeling for a pulse. Once she found it, she lifted her own wrist so she could see her watch, and began to count. "Ianto, take this down."
"Ianto's gone back out to get the rest of the gear off the boat," Jack said, clearly peeved to have been so thoroughly dismissed. "If you need a nurse, you're stuck with me."
"Fine," Muli said with a shrug of her shoulders. "Designation: superior left arm, 15 bpm." She spared a glance at Jack. "Why aren't you writing that down?" she asked curtly before focusing her attention on the alien's upper right wrist.
Jack patted his pockets and, coming up empty, fished a dog-eared spiral notebook and pen out of a drawer. Scowling at the doctor, he took down her notations. "You know, we have a scanner that will take all those readings for you," he said. He dropped the notebook and returned his attention to the drawers. "Owen used to love this thing, once he figured it out. Saved him all kinds of time." He waved a small rectangular device the size of a pocket calculator with a series of lenses on one side in Dr. Muli's face. "It's a Bekaran deep tissue scanner. Better than an MRI," he said in a singsong voice.
"I'm sure it's very useful, Captain. But right now, I'm trying to get a handle on this creature's circulatory system." Megan snatched up the pad Jack had abandoned and wrote down more notes. Finally, she sighed. "Very well, show me this gizmo."
Jack flipped a switch on the side of the scanner and began to move it slowly over the alien's body. "It's got multiple settings so you can take progressively more invasive scans." A surface diagram of the alien's body appeared on the monitor behind them. "Now watch," Jack added. He changed the intensity and ran the device over the alien a second time. A detailed rendering of the circulatory system overlaid the base diagram.
Muli's face softened and showed a degree of grudging approval. "I'm beginning to be interested. What's the next scan reveal?" Jack showed her how to adjust it before handing the device over. Muli took it with a curt nod of thanks, adjusted the setting as Jack had demonstrated, and repeated the scan. On the monitor, organs appeared. The computer began to churn away, analysing the fresh data. A printer came to life with a mechanical whine, and hard copy began to feed into the tray.
Jack gave her an encouraging smile, but it faded quickly as the alien began to twitch. "I don't think it's supposed to be doing that," he said, backing away a step.
On the monitor, the life sign readings began to fluctuate wildly. Muli scowled as she tried to interpret the data. She said something under her breath in a language Jack didn't recognise, but by intonation, he guessed it was a curse. The alien on the table began to breathe in sharp, shallow gulps. Its torso undulated in a way familiar to medical personnel and bartenders everywhere.
"Basin!" Dr. Muli snapped at Jack as she rolled her patient onto its side.
Jack flung open doors at random, trying to remember where the emesis basins were stored. He got one in place just in time for the alien to vomit. Thick stringy mucus poured out of its mouth. Jack was forced to turn his head.
"Oh, that is rank!" he groaned. And then, "Oh, no!" He clutched at his stomach with his free hand, dropping the emesis basin. Its contents splattered onto the floor as he ran for the sink. He lost his dinner at the same time as alarms began to squall around them in a deafening cacophony.
"Shit, lockdown!" Ianto stood just inside the Hub with his back to the mouth of the tunnel leading from the quay, arms laden with toolboxes and equipment. He dropped it all, ran to a cabinet further down the corridor, and yanked out a respirator, hastily pulling it over his head. Then he turned and bolted back the way he'd come, only to have the door seal shut in his face. He closed his eyes for a second and swore in a quietly vehement tone before retrieving more respirators and snatching up the abandoned gear. He ran down the stairs straight to the Hub, dropping the excess equipment in the first available space. Overhead, doors continued to slam shut and seal automatically.
"Gwen, JJ!" he shouted, barely slowing down to lob respirators at them on his way to the medical bay.
Jack spit one more time into the sink, hastily rinsed his mouth, and shrugged away the mask as Ianto attempted to press one into his hands. "Biological lockdown," Jack said grimly, glancing at the alien. "Meet patient zero."
"Jack, put it on," Ianto insisted. "You may have already been exposed, but why let more of whatever it is into your system?" Ianto gave a fervent look, silently arguing his point.
Jack relented, fitting it over his nose and mouth. "There, are you happy?" He looked up and saw Gwen and JJ standing at the rail. "Get out of here."
"Jack, I'm not leaving you," Gwen protested, her voice muffled.
But JJ didn't need further encouragement, running straight from the medical bay to the circular door, now tightly shut. He shook the bars of the cage surrounding it, sweat beading on his temples. "It won't open!" he cried frantically.
"We're in lockdown," Jack repeated, looking straight at Gwen. "For the new recruit and anyone not paying attention last time, that means nothing can get in or out until whatever is threatening us is neutralised." Jack fiddled with the straps of his mask, trying to make it less restricting. "Now, pay attention. Follow instructions and we'll get through this." He stopped for a breath. His stomach was still clenched and queasy, and the stink of alien vomit hung in the air. He moved out of the medical bay into the main body of the Hub. "Gwen, get into the conference room. Set up a command post. I want you on communications. Get the secondary systems up and running." Jack saw her hesitate. "Move, now!"
Gwen ran.
JJ continued to yank ineffectually at the bars. He tore off his mask and took great, gulping swallows of air.
Jack spared him a look. "What's his problem?" he asked Ianto.
"No idea," he replied. "Left his mobile in the car?"
"Get him under control, then come help us."
Ianto nodded, already moving to drag JJ away from the door. Although Ianto had at least eight inches in height and a couple stone in muscle on him, JJ was quick and determined. He shook Ianto off and darted away, looking for another escape route with such blind haste that he tripped over Ianto's abandoned gear, falling to his knees. With a grimace, Ianto hauled JJ to his feet, grasping his upper arms with firm, steady hands.
"No need to be silly," he said calmly, attempting a reassuring smile from behind his mask. But from the frightened look JJ gave him, Ianto suspected it was anything but.
JJ's face began to colour alarmingly. "Can't breathe!" he choked out between gasps. He struggled in Ianto's hold, managed to get one arm high enough to knock Ianto's mask askew. Frustrated, Ianto held his breath and yanked it back into place while he fought to get his colleague under control. JJ's eyes widened in redoubled panic. He grabbed for Ianto's mask, pulled it off again, and flung it across the room. It tumbled to a stop against Gwen's chair.
Ianto shoved JJ down onto his knees, then stretched for the first aid kit among the pile of gear he had dropped. Keeping one hand on JJ, Ianto dragged the kit closer, opened it, and fished out a miniature oxygen tank and mask. He cracked the valve and tried to push the mask over JJ's face.
JJ batted it away. "No. Can't."
"Stop being an arse," Ianto grunted, all pretence of friendly reassurance gone. He didn't know how virulent the contaminating agent was, but he knew if it was floating in the air, they'd both been thoroughly exposed. He took the oxygen tank and held it where JJ could read all the markings on it. "It'll help you breathe. Now calm down and keep this over your face."
JJ continued to struggle. He snapped his head backwards, the back of his skull colliding with Ianto's face and catching him smartly on the nose. Ianto cried out. His vision momentarily blurred, then brightened into white hot stars as the pain started to register. He touched his face, regretting it instantly, as his vision blurred for a second time and his fingers came away wet and sticky with blood. "I don't have time for this!"
In the seconds Ianto had been preoccupied, JJ attempted to get to his feet. Ianto grabbed him by the trainer and pulled, yanking him down. He lunged forward, pinning JJ's legs, and reached back to the first aid kit. He shifted the contents, now hopelessly disorganised, until he found a pre-loaded syringe of sedative. Tearing the wrapper off with his teeth, he popped the cap on the syringe, stabbed JJ's thigh right through his jeans, and depressed the plunger.
JJ howled, tensed, and a moment later went slack under Ianto's hands. Ianto yanked out the syringe, dropping it into the kit and climbed off JJ. He took a moment to unwrap several sterile pads and gingerly held the wad of gauze to his face while he tried to sort out what to do next. JJ was sedated, but, sprawled on the floor as he was, he was also in the way. He needed to be moved.
Ianto lifted the gauze. The bleeding hadn't slowed. He unwrapped a fresh compress and held it in place until he couldn't hold his breath any longer. Then, wincing, but no longer seeing stars, he taped a fresh compress against his nose, rescued his mask from near Gwen's desk, and put it back on.
Ianto looked at the mess and sighed. He searched among the scattered contents of the first aid kit until he found a biohazard bag, gathered up the bloody gauze and used needle. He contemplated JJ for a moment before hauling him over his shoulder in a fireman's hold, and carrying him to the sofa, wedging him against the back with an old blanket.
"Right, vitals, I suppose," Ianto muttered as he checked eyes and pulse rate, pressed a hand to JJ's chest and found the heartbeat strong and regular, though somewhat on the fast side. He looked down on the unconscious young man. "Stay out of trouble while we sort this out." Ianto sighed again, loosening the collar of his bloodied white dress shirt, before returning to clear away the rest of the mess.
In the conference room, Gwen stared at her keyboard impatiently while her terminal authenticated the Hub mainframe. Jack had told her to focus on communications, but she had a bigger mystery to solve. "What if this wasn't the only life pod?" she asked the empty room. "And have they been here before?"
She got up and found one of Ianto's notepads and a pen. She tried to suck on the end of the plastic barrel, tapped the gas mask instead as she contemplated the blank page, then she wrote in large letters, spacing her questions down the page: Who, what, where, when, why and how. If she was stuck in the conference room by herself, she might as well use the time to find some answers.
"Ianto!" Jack yelled from the medical bay, eyes still on Dr. Muli, who was puzzling over the alien through her respirator. "Status!"
"Minor injury, thanks for asking. I'm pretty sure my nose isn't broken," Ianto said from above them.
Jack snapped his head up, spotting the gore on Ianto's shirt. "What happened?" He took a step forward, tensing at the sight of Ianto's battered appearance.
Ianto leaned against the chain, looking exhausted. "JJ tore away my mask trying to escape." The irritated frown that creased his brow suggested exactly what he thought about the unexpected outburst. As did his flat pronouncement, "He's sedated now."
"Yeah, well we can figure out what crawled up his tail pipe later." Jack moved to the other side of the medical bay so he could keep an eye on Dr. Muli as she took samples from the alien, preparing slides as she went. She fiddled with one of the analysers, frowned, then shook her head.
"Right." She removed her mask, placed it on the counter, and pulled a paper one on in its place. "You can remove that thing. It's likely we were all exposed prior to the mass release of the contaminant. If we're all infected, there's no point in being uncomfortable on top of everything else."
"You're sure?" Ianto sounded uncertain, although his hands still went to the straps that held his mask in place.
Dr. Muli glared pointedly at her own mask on the counter.
Ianto shrugged and removed his, too. She frowned at the bloodstained tape and gauze as it was uncovered. Shaking her head, she gathered up several items and handed them to Jack. "Get up there and take a proper look at his nose. I assume you're qualified for basic first aid."
"I've done my fair share," Jack replied. "Ianto, my office. I'll be up."
Jack watched Ianto walk away rather stiffly before turning his attention back to Dr. Muli. "What are you doing?"
Muli looked up from the microscope. "My job. Clearly, your systems didn't like it much when the alien vomited. My theory is that the vomitus contained a massive concentration of the contagion. Therefore, I'm using a sample to isolate potential pathogens. Meanwhile, it would be helpful if you could identify where this creature came from and whether Torchwood has any records of them making a previous visit. Or, if not this exact species, something with a comparable physiology. Right now, I'm completely in the dark."
"What about us?" Jack asked. "You've got experience with this sort of thing. Think we're going to get sick?"
Megan put a hand on her hip and frowned. "Possibly. As I've just said, we've all certainly been exposed. The question is, what's the risk from that? The closest analogy I can make is humans often become ill when they pick up infectious agents from animals, but they don't necessarily get sick in the same way. Where the analogy falls apart is those animals share the common denominator of terrestrial origin. Perhaps you can tell me, Captain? What are the odds this pathogen is contagious to humans?"
Jack shrugged. "It's happened before."
Muli went back to her microscope. "Then you'd better quit wasting my time and let me isolate the infectious agent." She made a shooing motion with her hands. "Get me some data."
Jack stared at his new doctor, an angry retort forming on his lips, but he thought better of it. She needed to focus; they could deal with personnel matters later. He touched the earpiece of his comm. "Gwen, you can lose the mask." He switched off without waiting for her reply and stalked out of the theatre to tend to Ianto.
Ianto stripped away his ruined shirt, tie and waistcoat, threw them in the hamper, and stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. The bleeding had stopped, and all that was left was a mess and the ache. He turned on the cold tap, found a flannel and wet it down. He was staring at it absently, watching the water turn the fabric from pale to darker blue, when he heard Jack call his name.
"In here," he said, flipping the flannel around to wet the other end.
"I thought I told you to wait for me upstairs," Jack said as he stalked in.
Ianto ignored him, wringing the excess water from the cloth before dabbing at his face.
Jack's expression softened as he reached out. "Here, let me do that."
"I can manage," Ianto replied. He dabbed and winced and dabbed again, watching warily as Jack moved behind him. The concern he saw reflected in the mirror only made him angrier for allowing himself to get injured in such a stupid way. He dropped his eyes, concentrating on cleaning the blood from his face and chest while Jack shut off the tap.
"You're being a baby." Jack reached for the cloth again.
Ianto batted Jack's hand away. "I said, I can manage."
"You're sure?" Jack asked. He placed his hand on Ianto's shoulder.
Ianto shrugged it off, not wanting the comfort. He was tired and angry. His head raged with pain. In all likelihood, they were going to die of some extraterrestrial disease, and Jack was fussing over a bloody nose. He opened the medicine cabinet and found a nearly empty bottle of paracetamol. Tipping the last couple of tablets into his mouth, he swallowed them dry and threw the container in the bin.
"I'm fine."
It wasn't easy, but he snaked past Jack into the sleeping quarters to get a fresh shirt from the wardrobe. He pulled it on and stuffed the tails roughly into the waistband of his trousers.
"Ianto, wait up," said Jack, an apologetic tone creeping into his voice.
Ianto dodged and, though he was only partially dressed, hooked a foot onto the rung of the ladder and started to climb. "Work to do," he replied in a harsh parody of Jack's favourite phrase, one he often used when there was no work to be done at all. He felt Jack's hand on his ankle, but shook it free easily.
Jack's voice drifted up from the bunker, "Fine, if that's the way you're gonna be."
Ianto collected the documents scattered across his desk into a neat stack and deposited them in their proper places. His in-basket was clearly labelled IN, so why couldn't the others put their forms and requests where they belonged rather than littering his workspace? He knew the answer of course. Jack in particular - but Gwen was nearly as bad - wanted him to see the paperwork as soon as it was completed, because he might forget to purchase extra Hobnobs the next time he restocked the treats cupboard.
It was, he realised, a minor inconvenience and a substantial improvement over when he had started at Three. In those days, he'd been lucky if the paperwork had been done at all. But it was an aggravation all the same. He sighed and cast around briefly for his headset, then realised with a feeling of weary consternation that, despite the fight and the first aid after, it was still in place over his ear. He tapped the internal comm button and said, "Gwen, are you there?"
"Yep," she replied promptly, but she sounded distracted. "Hang on, Ianto." She went quiet, and once more Ianto mourned the loss of the Sillin DNA sequencer while he logged into the terminal and tapped into the archive search protocols. The system was extensively cross-referenced, but like any library tended by many hands, it still had plenty of holes. It was possible that while a DNA trace might not turn up the the alien's species, a few keywords would turn up an old incident report or something else they could use.
Ianto flexed his hands, preparing to type, but frowned as he noticed the numbness in his fingers. Damn, but he was tired. It was obscenely late, even for them, and the day had been busy even before the incident on the bay. He made two fists then relaxed them, wincing as the increased blood flow brought pins and needles into his fingertips, chasing the numb feeling away. He flexed one more time before starting to input as much information as he could into the system. He focused on the complicated form to help disassociate himself from the throbbing pain in his nose and the steady ache of a headache in full bloom.
His hand strayed absently to yank at the knot of his tie and touched bare, slightly clammy skin instead. He frowned at the memory lapse. He hadn't bothered to put on a fresh one in his haste to avoid Jack. Add advancing senility to his other complaints. Ianto pushed the thoughts away as he concentrated on specifics about the life pod: dimension, colour, shape. The alien: four arms, in sets of two. Colour: blue. Hue could be important, so he let the computer colour match directly from the RAW image file on his camera's memory card. He had nearly completed the form when Gwen came back on over his headset.
"Sorry. I was listening to recordings of radio traffic from the police scanner. It sounded like we might have had a second incident, but it was just some kids out way past their bedtime, playing with an oversized kite."
"No biscuits for them, and a stern talking to, I suppose?" Ianto asked dryly.
"If we're lucky," Gwen replied. "Honestly, parents today. If my kid were out running the streets..." She trailed off and sounded somewhat embarrassed when she continued, "Anyway, nothing to report. It seems our pod is the only one, at least so far. I'll keep listening."
Ianto glanced at his computer; the hourglass flipped at regular intervals, indicating the system was churning through the possibilities. It would take time. "I've got the internal database searches covered from here," he reported. "Let me check on a few more possibilities, then I'll be down with a cup of tea." He considered a moment. It was likely she would be all but isolated until the doctor figured out the cause of the alien's illness. "Is there anything else I can get you? Jack sent you down there with no notice. And it's late. I can bring you a blanket. Let you put your head down for a bit."
"That's sweet of you," Gwen replied. Ianto could practically hear her smile over the comm system. "But I'm fine. I'm going to look through some of the online newspaper morgues. Check the overseas databases. See if I can't turn up something that way."
"You never know," Ianto replied. "Happy hunting."
Jack leaned against the bathroom basin, struggling to catch his breath. The first wave of the headache had been overwhelmed by a bout of nausea so severe he'd barely made it back to the bathroom before the attack of dry heaves caught up with him. He turned on the tap, caught a handful of water and brought it to his mouth, swallowing it slowly. It helped. He took another mouthful, holding it on his tongue before letting it trickle down his throat, and splashed more water onto his face. His fingers fumbled the tap, and he frowned as he examined his hands, holding them to the light and flexing his fingers. They felt strange, as if he was wearing too-tight gloves. He blotted his face and narrowed his eyes at his reflection, watching as beads of sweat popped up almost as soon the water had been towelled away.
Nausea - different from his sympathetic morning sickness - hands not quite right, sweating... With a suspicious frown, Jack opened the medicine cabinet. He found a digital thermometer among Ianto's stash of personal items and stuck it under his tongue.
It beeped. He checked the readout: 39.17 C. "Great. Not just infected. Sick."
He staggered to the ladder. Forcing himself to stand straighter and to ignore the headache, the nausea, and the creeping numbness in his feet and hands, Jack appeared almost normal by the time he reached his office and strode out into the Hub.
Ianto blinked. The computer continued to churn on the searches he'd initiated, but he knew that if he could just keep his thoughts in order, he could pull information out of the system faster.
"Coffee," he announced to the wall. It had been hours since his last cup. Probably half of his headache was caused by caffeine withdrawal. He stumbled as he got up. His feet were numb. Clearly, he'd spent too much time in his shoes, so, seeing no reason not to, he toed them off and kicked them under the bottom shelf before stepping over to the coffee maker.
He allowed himself to stand still for several seconds, inhaling the rich aroma of dark-roasted Kenyan beans, letting the scent comfort and focus him. He felt unsteady on his feet, tired. The counter's edge dug into his hip as he melted against it, the fresh pain enough provocation to get moving again. He dipped beans out of the canister and into the grinder, wincing at the noise it made. He shivered, a sudden chill catching him unaware. Maybe taking his shoes off hadn't been such a good idea. Ianto sank back into his chair, holding his arms tightly around himself to wait for the coffee machine to cycle.
"Captain!" Megan called from the medical bay. "How is our other patient?"
"JJ. Right," Jack said. He put on his best 'no worries' face and went to check. The young man was stretched out on the couch, the oxygen mask still strapped to his face. The cylinder gauge read nearly empty, so Jack removed it before continuing his cursory exam.
JJ's normally sallow complexion was uncharacteristically flushed. His skin was clammy, probably with fever, but Jack was in no position to judge without going back to the medical bay for a thermometer. The pulse under Jack's fingers raced alarmingly.
Jack ignored the unsteadiness in his legs as he straightened to his full height. "Doc, you need to see this."
Gwen pushed the keyboard away with a frustrated sigh.
"Oh sure, it's all well and good to stick me down here to do research, Jack." She glowered at the computer screen mounted on the wall across from her. "With an Internet connection that will only let me see the pages, but no way to send e-mail to the people that might have answers." She looked up at the ceiling. "Tosh, sweetheart, wherever you are, I know you would have finished undoing the things Suzie did to sabotage lockdown protocols if you'd had the time. But what good is partially getting around a communications lockout? Not good at all. In fact, it's bloody frustrating."
Gwen rose from the table, stumbling a little as she did so. She took a moment to steady herself against the back of a chair. Ianto was right. She probably did need to put her head down for a bit. "And speaking of Ianto, where is he with my bloody tea?"
Her head hurt and it was making her cranky. She went to the mini-fridge and rummaged among the stash of beer, hoping for a bottle of juice or something else maternity-friendly. Instead, she frowned, finding nothing but that miserable barley-lemon water Rhys had forced on her as being a good drink for the baby.
"Oh well, only choice is the best choice."
Gwen opened the bottle and took a swig, grimacing as it went down too fast. She sputtered and choked, coughed, then took a smaller, more dignified mouthful.
"Sorry, love," she said as she patted her stomach. "Daddy knows best."
She sat back in her chair, shoved the keyboard to the other side of the table, put her feet up, and closed her eyes.
Muli withdrew the thermometer from JJ's mouth and tutted. "Fever. Dilated pupils. Rapid pulse." She looked at his hand. Something was odd about the way his fingers were curled against his palm. Frowning, she prodded JJ's hand with the pointed cap of her biro. No reaction. "That's strange." She repeated the experiment, poking a bit harder. Still nothing. "Impaired neurological function? Not a panic attack then."
She removed a syringe and several Vacutainers from her lab coat, rolled off a vein and took a blood sample. Carefully, she marked the tubes and dropped them back into her pocket. "I'll analyse this." She glanced at Jack. "You look a bit peaky, yourself. I think it's time to test everyone."
"Don't worry about me," Jack said as he started to walk away. "Get the rest of the team."
Dr. Muli cleared her throat. "You're closest, and you never know. Your sample could be the one that unlocks this for me."
Jack shrugged. "Fine. Just be quick about it."
They went back to the medical bay. Jack tried to think of a snappy remark to lighten the mood but came up blank.
"Sit there." Dr. Muli pointed at the stool.
Jack sat quietly and let the doctor shine a light in his eyes, listen to his chest, and finally draw his blood. He noticed her initial interest in the high tech tools had waned. She had returned to traditional instruments.
"Symptoms?" Dr. Muli asked, inflating the blood pressure cuff she'd put around his arm.
Jack started to answer, but Muli shushed him as she deflated the cuff. She turned her back and started jotting notes in a chart. "I said, symptoms?"
"Headache, nausea, fever," Jack replied quickly, before she could find a reason to shush him again. He was beginning to find her hyper-focused work style more intimidating than annoying. "I'm tired. My hands and feet feel strange, too," he added after a couple of seconds of thought. "They're tingling."
Muli motioned for Jack to open his mouth. He stuck out his tongue. She glanced at it, swabbed the back hard enough to make even him gag and followed it with a thermometer.
"You were almost sick on the boat," she noted. She plucked his hand out of his lap and examined it closely, working his fingers, checking his response. "Sluggish," she added, more to herself than to him.
Jack looked down at his feet; his boots needed polishing. "Unrelated," he muttered around the plastic probe. "Also, not important." The timer on the thermometer beeped. He handed it to her, and she made another note on his chart. Impatience crept into his tone. "You about finished? I want to check on Gwen and Ianto."
"Let me start on these samples," Dr. Muli said, turning away. "I'll come collect the others shortly."
"Fine." Once again, Jack realised he'd been dismissed by his subordinate. This time, he didn't mind.
Crash Course: Part Two
Crash Course
by: beesandbrews, lawsontl
The bow of the Sea Queen II bounced an easy rhythm as she cut the wakes of other craft out for an evening cruise on Cardiff Bay. Dr. Megan Muli hoped her first trip out on Torchwood's speedboat wouldn't involve something as weird as guilt-noshing larvae. Jumping in head first was fine, but so was the slow and easy approach. Though Captain Harkness apparently disagreed with taking anything slowly. The inner harbour's five-knot speed limit was making his hand twitch on the throttle.
"So, Doc," he asked, casting a glance back at the stern where she was seated on a padded bench, her close-cropped hair covered with a crinkled cotton scarf to protect it from the frigid night air. "What do you think's the strangest thing the Rift's ever dumped in the drink?"
She looked toward Ianto Jones who was focused on the boat's navigation readouts. Glowing displays showed satellite data, and he was busy correlating it with feeds from Torchwood's Hub. He didn’t seem to be interested in participating in the conversation.
She shrugged, stuffing her hands into the thigh pockets of her cargo trousers. "I don't know, a spaceship?"
"You're thinking like a civilian," the captain laughed, returning his attention to the bay. They passed a small yacht that had dropped anchor so a group of university students could get rowdy offshore. The students yelled and waved, warmed by copious amounts of alcohol, and Muli watched bemused, as the captain successfully flirted with every one of them while the boats shared the waterway.
She shook her head. "What's stranger than a spaceship?"
Ianto snorted softly. "An arch of pink and gold balloons from a birthday party in 1923."
She threw Ianto a sceptical look. "How’d you know they were from 1923? Maybe they were from a fancy dress party or..."
"The temporal residue all over the balloons was a hint," Jack interrupted.
"And the banner attached that read 'Congratulations Dear Araminta, 23 in '23'," Ianto added, not bothering to look away from the console.
Temporal residue. Muli filed the term away along with two dozen other phrases she'd learnt that day. "So, how do we know we're not picking up another of Araminta's party favours this time?"
"Distress signal." Ianto motioned to his PDA.
"And readings from the-" Jack cut himself off as they hit a choppy patch, the boat listing rudely. He dropped into the captain's chair, speeding up so they could cut over the waves with less turbulence. When they were in the clear, he looked a bit green at the gills and waved Ianto to the helm. They exchanged looks that briefly converged on Dr. Muli before the captain disappeared below deck.
"Signal source has a unique plasma signature." Ianto continued as if they hadn't been interrupted, one hand on the wheel, the other offering her his PDA. He pointed to a bright blue line in the lower third of the screen. "You won't see that with terrestrial technology."
She glanced at it, noting the shape for future reference but unable to shunt her physician's training. "Is the captain seasick? You'd be surprised how well ginger root or a simple acupressure technique can help prevent it."
Ianto stared out toward the horizon. "No, I think it's just a bit of bother he picked up from Gwen."
"And she caught it from Rhys," Jack added, emerging again, his face flushed and damp. "False alarm anyway." Ianto shrugged and stepped aside, returning the helm to the captain's control.
"Well, the birds will be happier tonight," she said.
"How's that?" Ianto asked. "Ten degrees starboard."
Jack turned the wheel. "I think I see it."
"Do you know how many birds die every year by suffocating on balloons that people release? It's ridiculous."
"Got it!" Jack called out, his voice booming.
"Where?" Dr. Muli stood up, steadying herself with one of the chromed handrails. "All I see is a lump in the water."
"Exactly," Jack replied. He cut the engines and let the Sea Queen II drift in. "This isn't a ship. It's a life pod."
Ianto climbed to the port side, quickly tying off buoys. But his precautions weren't necessary; Jack guided the boat right up to the pod without touching its elegantly narrow hull. They came to a stop, and Jack whistled his appreciation.
"Recognise it?" Ianto asked.
"No, but I still want whatever ship it came from," he replied, rocking on his heels eagerly.
"What's left of it, you mean," Dr. Muli corrected. "Seeing as you said this is a life pod."
"Yeah," he acknowledged with a grimace. "Shame." He shucked his greatcoat onto the captain's chair and followed it with his shirt, pulling the braces back up over his shoulders.
"What are you doing?" Muli moved toward Jack. She looked at Ianto for support, but he shrugged.
"Rescue mission," Jack replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You're supposed to look for stuff to rescue."
"Can't we scan for that?" She waved toward Ianto, only when her eyes followed her hand, she realised he'd already put down his PDA.
Ianto shook his head. "No good, can't get readings through its hull," he replied, snapping on a pair of latex gloves. In his gray wool overcoat, he resembled nothing so much as the confused offspring of a surgeon and an accountant.
It all seemed a bit surreal: standing on the deck of a boat, the lights of Cardiff reflecting off the water, and the life pod from a spaceship floating next to them. Megan peeked over the rail, unable to hide the awe in her voice. "So we just...?"
"Crack the nut!" Jack answered, an eager grin on his face. He straddled the railing, poking at the pod with his boot. "It'll hold me," he said, taking the hand Ianto offered to steady him. "Light!"
A second later, Ianto trained a searchlight onto the pod. It was nothing short of spectacular: at least as long as the boat, a deep blue-black and non-reflective. It also seemed aware of the captain's presence. As he climbed aboard, he carefully lowered himself to all fours and felt around for some type of hatch. The surface seemed to be following him, like eyes in a painting. Minus the eyes.
"Aho!" Without explanation, Jack tucked his fingers together and began easing his hand into an organic portal that seemed to have appeared from nowhere. It made disturbingly moist, yielding noises.
Megan started to protest the irresponsibility of his actions, but Ianto raised a hand and shook his head. She wasn't sure if that meant there was nothing to worry about, or if it was simply a lost cause where the captain was concerned. Well, if it was the latter, she didn't have to join in his stupidity. While Ianto pretended fascination with the searchlight, she opened her medkit and geared up with latex gloves and a disposable facemask. It was better than nothing. Being one of the first human doctors to work with an alien species was exciting, but even excitement needed boundaries.
A moment later, the pod made an awful squelching noise. Fearing the captain had slipped in or, worse, been eaten by some giant, pod-shaped alien, she ran back to the edge of the boat only to find he had his arms through a neat opening in the hull, manipulating controls. While he was doing that, he was also making odd sounds, and something inside the pod was making similarly odd responses. He was, she realised, communicating. And a moment later, she learnt with what. He sat back on his heels, and the strangest creature she'd ever seen was hanging limply in his arms.
It had vaguely bluish skin, though that could have been a trick of the camera flash as Ianto snapped a photograph of the rescue. What she was certain of were its legs and arms: it had far too many of them. Four of each, to be exact. From head to toes - were they properly called toes? - it was barely a meter long. It also had four eyes, though they were only half-open, and they seemed focused entirely on the captain.
Ianto stretched over the side of the boat, and Megan grabbed his belt, securing him so he could take the creature from the captain's arms. It was a delicate and clumsy transfer, Harkness nearly dropping his charge. But the alien was lucid enough to realise that going for a swim in the icy water wasn't in its best interest and came around at the critical moment to grab for Ianto's throat, clinging to his head with its overabundant limbs.
"That the only one?" she asked Jack, figuring that the size of the pod was a hint that it wasn't a single-passenger craft.
He nodded once, his expression grim. "The rest died before we got here." He pressed another lever, and the pod became a floating tomb.
"Was it able to tell you what happened?" she asked while turning her attention to Ianto as he laid the survivor out on deck, wiping something gooey from his face with only the faintest trace of a galled expression. She imagined they'd got pretty used to that sort of thing. He certainly knew to get out of her way and, for that, she was grateful. Nothing annoyed her more than people getting underfoot when she was trying to help a patient in crisis.
"It only spoke a little Galactic Standard, but something about a fever. Let's get this baby tied off so we can haul it in."
"It felt cold to me," Ianto pointed out as he tossed the captain a rope. "Cold-blooded or just a different core temperature than humans?"
Jack shrugged. "Dunno. Doc, meet your first patient."
She really had no idea where to start. It looked vaguely humanoid, so, for lack of a better idea, she grabbed a stethoscope and moved toward where she expected its heart should be. It recoiled and made a noise like fear. The captain gave another series of clicks and grunts at it.
Whatever he said calmed it down, and she slowly moved the stethoscope to its chest, pressing gently. She almost leapt up at what she heard. "Two heartbeats!" she marvelled.
"Oh, bloody hell," Ianto sighed, rubbing his forehead.
"It's not, Ianto, really." Jack sounded weary, and the look he gave the other man only confounded matters.
"What?" Dr. Muli asked, confused. "If there's a playbook, you could've shown it to me."
"Nothing, Doc," Jack laughed, once again the charming captain. "Not at all unusual for life forms to have two hearts. With that many limbs, it probably needs them to get enough circulation."
She didn't waste time with evolutionary questions like 'Why not a larger heart?'. Instead, she pulled out a digital thermometer and guessed for the best place to take a reading. Ianto had been right, much cooler than the human body. But it definitely acted uncomfortable, provided that what she knew about human body language applied. Again, with no better ideas, she grabbed a cold pack from her medkit and cracked the ampoule inside, mixing it up quickly.
Her offering confused the alien until she gestured for it to touch it. This much she was accustomed to. Language barriers were nothing new. It reached out slowly and, when it felt the cool surface of the pack, grabbed it greedily, pressing it not to its forehead - like a human - but to its chest, over the hearts. It actually made quite a lot of sense. Cool the blood, cool the body.
"All I can offer it on the boat is palliative care," she said, watching Ianto helping the captain climb aboard. "We need to get it back to the Hub."
Jack staggered for a moment then shook his head as if to clear it before dropping into the navigation seat. "We'll go straight to the dock. Ianto can haul the pod back to the boat house after he drops us off."
Ianto wiped his brow, nodding silently, and threw the boat into gear.
"Easy!" Dr. Muli snapped, grabbing the bench seat to keep from falling on the alien.
"Sorry, too much torque," he mumbled. "Jack apparently feels the need for a boat capable of space travel."
She righted her medkit and returned her attention to the alien. Looking it over in open wonder, she realised it was staring right back at her, just as curious. No doubt it was thinking how unusual she was with only two eyes, two pairs of limbs, and brown skin.
She grabbed another cold pack and mixed it up then propped it under the alien's neck like a pillow. It seemed to appreciate this, its limbs unclenching a bit. But it made an expression that would be considered more of a grimace. Still, this cobalt-coloured E.T. had been fairly consistent with her nonverbal expectations. She pulled down her mask and did her best to duplicate its expression. It blinked once before closing its eyes; they'd established a rudimentary trust. She turned to her new teammates in triumph, but Jack was staring at Ianto, brow furrowed. For his part, Ianto was ignoring them both in favour of the distant lights of Mermaid Quay. So much for that team bonding moment.
"The first time I saw a weevil, I thought it was some bloke in a mask playing silly buggers," Gwen said to JJ as they entered the cells.
"You sound almost like it's a fond memory," JJ replied. He looked at the weevil confined behind the thick Plexiglas wall and stood a little taller, as he'd been instructed, straightening his spine and forcing himself to regard the creature with casual interest. Show no fear. It was hard to imagine anybody not seeing the alien for what it was. Unless you were at a distance, there was something distinctly inhuman about the oversized head and swaying gait.
Gwen looked at him, surprise in her wide brown eyes. "Do I?" She smiled, looking slightly abashed. "I suppose, compared to some of the things I've seen since then, it is. I watched a weevil tear a man's throat open that day. He bled to death right in front of me. And then this lot," she said, waving her hand in the general direction of the upper Hub, "turned up and showed me there's a whole world I knew nothing about."
On the other side of the cell door, the weevil inside crouched and bayed. The eerie sound resonated against the ancient stones of the cell walls. It sent a shiver down JJ's spine but no longer made his blood run cold. Further down the row, another weevil answered the cry.
Gwen frowned. She examined the dark-eyed creature with near sympathy, her lips forming a moue. "Now, Janet, don't fuss," she said in a soothing tone. Gwen turned to JJ. "They do this sometimes, the baying. Jack thinks they've got some sort of communal consciousness or telepathy that helps them know when there's trouble or danger."
"It's hard to believe they're intelligent," JJ said, taking a step closer to the barrier.
"Oh, they are, but not in a way we understand," Gwen replied. She looked at the weevil in its Torchwood-branded boiler suit, tilting her head thoughtfully so her dark hair spilled over one shoulder. "It's hard to know what to make of them," she admitted. "At times they seem quite gentle. They mostly keep to themselves down in the sewers. Really kind of a public service they do, keeping the drains clean. But, every so often, something drives them a bit mad, and they come to the surface." She shrugged at JJ. "And that's when we get involved. If we can calm them down, we send them back, let their own take care of them. If we can't, we bring them back here to cool down a bit."
JJ grimaced as he watched Janet. Although he supposed they didn't have much of an alternative, the idea that any sentient creature could be locked up without due process was morally repugnant. He couldn't help himself. As he looked around the dank chamber with its stone walls and inadequate lighting, he began to compose the first lines of a story about abuse of alien life forms.
"It's for their own good," Gwen replied, as if sensing his thoughts. "Jack usually lets them go, eventually, and in the meantime we study them."
Janet bayed, this time snapping her sharp yellow teeth at Gwen. JJ couldn't see anything friendly or intelligent in the behaviour. He took a step backward just as the proximity alarm sounded.
"I suppose the handling lesson will have to wait," Gwen said. "Let's go see what the cat's dragged in."
Janet wailed again and, this time, JJ didn't bother concealing his nerves as he hurried out of the cells.
Gwen couldn't help noticing the grim scowl on Jack's face as he entered the Hub. She pasted on a cheerful smile and went to greet him. "Nice time out on the boat, was it?"
Jack didn't reply. He shook off the hand she placed on his arm and started to stalk back out, only to be nearly run over by Ianto and Dr. Muli as they briskly guided a trolley off the lift. "Hey, watch it!" Jack warned, a distinct undercurrent of anger in his voice.
Gwen gave a hand signal to JJ, sending him a silent instruction to head up to the catwalk and out of the way until whatever dust had been kicked up on the mission settled.
"All right, Doc," Jack said, pivoting back into the medical bay, neatly dancing out of Ianto's path as he hustled to retrieve the rest of their equipment. "Time for some 'on the job' training." He opened a drawer, exposing a rack of medical instruments. "In here are the basic diagnostic tools. The type you're already familiar with: stethoscope, blood pressure cuff..."
Muli ignored Jack, working with the tools she'd already removed from the portable medical kit to continue her examination of the alien.
"I'm talking here," Jack said, waving a thermometer in her face.
"And I'm busy, Captain," she snapped back. "Now be a good man and get out from underfoot."
"You're the doctor," Jack said. He put a hand on Muli's shoulder. She shrugged it off and muttered something about multiple respiratory systems. "But you're the rookie at Torchwood. We've got tools, diagnostic gear, that you don't see in your average A&E." He lifted a heavy volume off the counter. "And you know that playbook you asked about? How many medical libraries carry the Cleverness Guide to Alien Anatomy?"
Muli spared a glance at the book. "Fine," she said. "Make yourself useful. Find this species in that book. Put it somewhere I can see it. And then get out from under my feet." She picked up one of the alien's arms and held it at the wrist, feeling for a pulse. Once she found it, she lifted her own wrist so she could see her watch, and began to count. "Ianto, take this down."
"Ianto's gone back out to get the rest of the gear off the boat," Jack said, clearly peeved to have been so thoroughly dismissed. "If you need a nurse, you're stuck with me."
"Fine," Muli said with a shrug of her shoulders. "Designation: superior left arm, 15 bpm." She spared a glance at Jack. "Why aren't you writing that down?" she asked curtly before focusing her attention on the alien's upper right wrist.
Jack patted his pockets and, coming up empty, fished a dog-eared spiral notebook and pen out of a drawer. Scowling at the doctor, he took down her notations. "You know, we have a scanner that will take all those readings for you," he said. He dropped the notebook and returned his attention to the drawers. "Owen used to love this thing, once he figured it out. Saved him all kinds of time." He waved a small rectangular device the size of a pocket calculator with a series of lenses on one side in Dr. Muli's face. "It's a Bekaran deep tissue scanner. Better than an MRI," he said in a singsong voice.
"I'm sure it's very useful, Captain. But right now, I'm trying to get a handle on this creature's circulatory system." Megan snatched up the pad Jack had abandoned and wrote down more notes. Finally, she sighed. "Very well, show me this gizmo."
Jack flipped a switch on the side of the scanner and began to move it slowly over the alien's body. "It's got multiple settings so you can take progressively more invasive scans." A surface diagram of the alien's body appeared on the monitor behind them. "Now watch," Jack added. He changed the intensity and ran the device over the alien a second time. A detailed rendering of the circulatory system overlaid the base diagram.
Muli's face softened and showed a degree of grudging approval. "I'm beginning to be interested. What's the next scan reveal?" Jack showed her how to adjust it before handing the device over. Muli took it with a curt nod of thanks, adjusted the setting as Jack had demonstrated, and repeated the scan. On the monitor, organs appeared. The computer began to churn away, analysing the fresh data. A printer came to life with a mechanical whine, and hard copy began to feed into the tray.
Jack gave her an encouraging smile, but it faded quickly as the alien began to twitch. "I don't think it's supposed to be doing that," he said, backing away a step.
On the monitor, the life sign readings began to fluctuate wildly. Muli scowled as she tried to interpret the data. She said something under her breath in a language Jack didn't recognise, but by intonation, he guessed it was a curse. The alien on the table began to breathe in sharp, shallow gulps. Its torso undulated in a way familiar to medical personnel and bartenders everywhere.
"Basin!" Dr. Muli snapped at Jack as she rolled her patient onto its side.
Jack flung open doors at random, trying to remember where the emesis basins were stored. He got one in place just in time for the alien to vomit. Thick stringy mucus poured out of its mouth. Jack was forced to turn his head.
"Oh, that is rank!" he groaned. And then, "Oh, no!" He clutched at his stomach with his free hand, dropping the emesis basin. Its contents splattered onto the floor as he ran for the sink. He lost his dinner at the same time as alarms began to squall around them in a deafening cacophony.
"Shit, lockdown!" Ianto stood just inside the Hub with his back to the mouth of the tunnel leading from the quay, arms laden with toolboxes and equipment. He dropped it all, ran to a cabinet further down the corridor, and yanked out a respirator, hastily pulling it over his head. Then he turned and bolted back the way he'd come, only to have the door seal shut in his face. He closed his eyes for a second and swore in a quietly vehement tone before retrieving more respirators and snatching up the abandoned gear. He ran down the stairs straight to the Hub, dropping the excess equipment in the first available space. Overhead, doors continued to slam shut and seal automatically.
"Gwen, JJ!" he shouted, barely slowing down to lob respirators at them on his way to the medical bay.
Jack spit one more time into the sink, hastily rinsed his mouth, and shrugged away the mask as Ianto attempted to press one into his hands. "Biological lockdown," Jack said grimly, glancing at the alien. "Meet patient zero."
"Jack, put it on," Ianto insisted. "You may have already been exposed, but why let more of whatever it is into your system?" Ianto gave a fervent look, silently arguing his point.
Jack relented, fitting it over his nose and mouth. "There, are you happy?" He looked up and saw Gwen and JJ standing at the rail. "Get out of here."
"Jack, I'm not leaving you," Gwen protested, her voice muffled.
But JJ didn't need further encouragement, running straight from the medical bay to the circular door, now tightly shut. He shook the bars of the cage surrounding it, sweat beading on his temples. "It won't open!" he cried frantically.
"We're in lockdown," Jack repeated, looking straight at Gwen. "For the new recruit and anyone not paying attention last time, that means nothing can get in or out until whatever is threatening us is neutralised." Jack fiddled with the straps of his mask, trying to make it less restricting. "Now, pay attention. Follow instructions and we'll get through this." He stopped for a breath. His stomach was still clenched and queasy, and the stink of alien vomit hung in the air. He moved out of the medical bay into the main body of the Hub. "Gwen, get into the conference room. Set up a command post. I want you on communications. Get the secondary systems up and running." Jack saw her hesitate. "Move, now!"
Gwen ran.
JJ continued to yank ineffectually at the bars. He tore off his mask and took great, gulping swallows of air.
Jack spared him a look. "What's his problem?" he asked Ianto.
"No idea," he replied. "Left his mobile in the car?"
"Get him under control, then come help us."
Ianto nodded, already moving to drag JJ away from the door. Although Ianto had at least eight inches in height and a couple stone in muscle on him, JJ was quick and determined. He shook Ianto off and darted away, looking for another escape route with such blind haste that he tripped over Ianto's abandoned gear, falling to his knees. With a grimace, Ianto hauled JJ to his feet, grasping his upper arms with firm, steady hands.
"No need to be silly," he said calmly, attempting a reassuring smile from behind his mask. But from the frightened look JJ gave him, Ianto suspected it was anything but.
JJ's face began to colour alarmingly. "Can't breathe!" he choked out between gasps. He struggled in Ianto's hold, managed to get one arm high enough to knock Ianto's mask askew. Frustrated, Ianto held his breath and yanked it back into place while he fought to get his colleague under control. JJ's eyes widened in redoubled panic. He grabbed for Ianto's mask, pulled it off again, and flung it across the room. It tumbled to a stop against Gwen's chair.
Ianto shoved JJ down onto his knees, then stretched for the first aid kit among the pile of gear he had dropped. Keeping one hand on JJ, Ianto dragged the kit closer, opened it, and fished out a miniature oxygen tank and mask. He cracked the valve and tried to push the mask over JJ's face.
JJ batted it away. "No. Can't."
"Stop being an arse," Ianto grunted, all pretence of friendly reassurance gone. He didn't know how virulent the contaminating agent was, but he knew if it was floating in the air, they'd both been thoroughly exposed. He took the oxygen tank and held it where JJ could read all the markings on it. "It'll help you breathe. Now calm down and keep this over your face."
JJ continued to struggle. He snapped his head backwards, the back of his skull colliding with Ianto's face and catching him smartly on the nose. Ianto cried out. His vision momentarily blurred, then brightened into white hot stars as the pain started to register. He touched his face, regretting it instantly, as his vision blurred for a second time and his fingers came away wet and sticky with blood. "I don't have time for this!"
In the seconds Ianto had been preoccupied, JJ attempted to get to his feet. Ianto grabbed him by the trainer and pulled, yanking him down. He lunged forward, pinning JJ's legs, and reached back to the first aid kit. He shifted the contents, now hopelessly disorganised, until he found a pre-loaded syringe of sedative. Tearing the wrapper off with his teeth, he popped the cap on the syringe, stabbed JJ's thigh right through his jeans, and depressed the plunger.
JJ howled, tensed, and a moment later went slack under Ianto's hands. Ianto yanked out the syringe, dropping it into the kit and climbed off JJ. He took a moment to unwrap several sterile pads and gingerly held the wad of gauze to his face while he tried to sort out what to do next. JJ was sedated, but, sprawled on the floor as he was, he was also in the way. He needed to be moved.
Ianto lifted the gauze. The bleeding hadn't slowed. He unwrapped a fresh compress and held it in place until he couldn't hold his breath any longer. Then, wincing, but no longer seeing stars, he taped a fresh compress against his nose, rescued his mask from near Gwen's desk, and put it back on.
Ianto looked at the mess and sighed. He searched among the scattered contents of the first aid kit until he found a biohazard bag, gathered up the bloody gauze and used needle. He contemplated JJ for a moment before hauling him over his shoulder in a fireman's hold, and carrying him to the sofa, wedging him against the back with an old blanket.
"Right, vitals, I suppose," Ianto muttered as he checked eyes and pulse rate, pressed a hand to JJ's chest and found the heartbeat strong and regular, though somewhat on the fast side. He looked down on the unconscious young man. "Stay out of trouble while we sort this out." Ianto sighed again, loosening the collar of his bloodied white dress shirt, before returning to clear away the rest of the mess.
In the conference room, Gwen stared at her keyboard impatiently while her terminal authenticated the Hub mainframe. Jack had told her to focus on communications, but she had a bigger mystery to solve. "What if this wasn't the only life pod?" she asked the empty room. "And have they been here before?"
She got up and found one of Ianto's notepads and a pen. She tried to suck on the end of the plastic barrel, tapped the gas mask instead as she contemplated the blank page, then she wrote in large letters, spacing her questions down the page: Who, what, where, when, why and how. If she was stuck in the conference room by herself, she might as well use the time to find some answers.
"Ianto!" Jack yelled from the medical bay, eyes still on Dr. Muli, who was puzzling over the alien through her respirator. "Status!"
"Minor injury, thanks for asking. I'm pretty sure my nose isn't broken," Ianto said from above them.
Jack snapped his head up, spotting the gore on Ianto's shirt. "What happened?" He took a step forward, tensing at the sight of Ianto's battered appearance.
Ianto leaned against the chain, looking exhausted. "JJ tore away my mask trying to escape." The irritated frown that creased his brow suggested exactly what he thought about the unexpected outburst. As did his flat pronouncement, "He's sedated now."
"Yeah, well we can figure out what crawled up his tail pipe later." Jack moved to the other side of the medical bay so he could keep an eye on Dr. Muli as she took samples from the alien, preparing slides as she went. She fiddled with one of the analysers, frowned, then shook her head.
"Right." She removed her mask, placed it on the counter, and pulled a paper one on in its place. "You can remove that thing. It's likely we were all exposed prior to the mass release of the contaminant. If we're all infected, there's no point in being uncomfortable on top of everything else."
"You're sure?" Ianto sounded uncertain, although his hands still went to the straps that held his mask in place.
Dr. Muli glared pointedly at her own mask on the counter.
Ianto shrugged and removed his, too. She frowned at the bloodstained tape and gauze as it was uncovered. Shaking her head, she gathered up several items and handed them to Jack. "Get up there and take a proper look at his nose. I assume you're qualified for basic first aid."
"I've done my fair share," Jack replied. "Ianto, my office. I'll be up."
Jack watched Ianto walk away rather stiffly before turning his attention back to Dr. Muli. "What are you doing?"
Muli looked up from the microscope. "My job. Clearly, your systems didn't like it much when the alien vomited. My theory is that the vomitus contained a massive concentration of the contagion. Therefore, I'm using a sample to isolate potential pathogens. Meanwhile, it would be helpful if you could identify where this creature came from and whether Torchwood has any records of them making a previous visit. Or, if not this exact species, something with a comparable physiology. Right now, I'm completely in the dark."
"What about us?" Jack asked. "You've got experience with this sort of thing. Think we're going to get sick?"
Megan put a hand on her hip and frowned. "Possibly. As I've just said, we've all certainly been exposed. The question is, what's the risk from that? The closest analogy I can make is humans often become ill when they pick up infectious agents from animals, but they don't necessarily get sick in the same way. Where the analogy falls apart is those animals share the common denominator of terrestrial origin. Perhaps you can tell me, Captain? What are the odds this pathogen is contagious to humans?"
Jack shrugged. "It's happened before."
Muli went back to her microscope. "Then you'd better quit wasting my time and let me isolate the infectious agent." She made a shooing motion with her hands. "Get me some data."
Jack stared at his new doctor, an angry retort forming on his lips, but he thought better of it. She needed to focus; they could deal with personnel matters later. He touched the earpiece of his comm. "Gwen, you can lose the mask." He switched off without waiting for her reply and stalked out of the theatre to tend to Ianto.
Ianto stripped away his ruined shirt, tie and waistcoat, threw them in the hamper, and stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. The bleeding had stopped, and all that was left was a mess and the ache. He turned on the cold tap, found a flannel and wet it down. He was staring at it absently, watching the water turn the fabric from pale to darker blue, when he heard Jack call his name.
"In here," he said, flipping the flannel around to wet the other end.
"I thought I told you to wait for me upstairs," Jack said as he stalked in.
Ianto ignored him, wringing the excess water from the cloth before dabbing at his face.
Jack's expression softened as he reached out. "Here, let me do that."
"I can manage," Ianto replied. He dabbed and winced and dabbed again, watching warily as Jack moved behind him. The concern he saw reflected in the mirror only made him angrier for allowing himself to get injured in such a stupid way. He dropped his eyes, concentrating on cleaning the blood from his face and chest while Jack shut off the tap.
"You're being a baby." Jack reached for the cloth again.
Ianto batted Jack's hand away. "I said, I can manage."
"You're sure?" Jack asked. He placed his hand on Ianto's shoulder.
Ianto shrugged it off, not wanting the comfort. He was tired and angry. His head raged with pain. In all likelihood, they were going to die of some extraterrestrial disease, and Jack was fussing over a bloody nose. He opened the medicine cabinet and found a nearly empty bottle of paracetamol. Tipping the last couple of tablets into his mouth, he swallowed them dry and threw the container in the bin.
"I'm fine."
It wasn't easy, but he snaked past Jack into the sleeping quarters to get a fresh shirt from the wardrobe. He pulled it on and stuffed the tails roughly into the waistband of his trousers.
"Ianto, wait up," said Jack, an apologetic tone creeping into his voice.
Ianto dodged and, though he was only partially dressed, hooked a foot onto the rung of the ladder and started to climb. "Work to do," he replied in a harsh parody of Jack's favourite phrase, one he often used when there was no work to be done at all. He felt Jack's hand on his ankle, but shook it free easily.
Jack's voice drifted up from the bunker, "Fine, if that's the way you're gonna be."
Ianto collected the documents scattered across his desk into a neat stack and deposited them in their proper places. His in-basket was clearly labelled IN, so why couldn't the others put their forms and requests where they belonged rather than littering his workspace? He knew the answer of course. Jack in particular - but Gwen was nearly as bad - wanted him to see the paperwork as soon as it was completed, because he might forget to purchase extra Hobnobs the next time he restocked the treats cupboard.
It was, he realised, a minor inconvenience and a substantial improvement over when he had started at Three. In those days, he'd been lucky if the paperwork had been done at all. But it was an aggravation all the same. He sighed and cast around briefly for his headset, then realised with a feeling of weary consternation that, despite the fight and the first aid after, it was still in place over his ear. He tapped the internal comm button and said, "Gwen, are you there?"
"Yep," she replied promptly, but she sounded distracted. "Hang on, Ianto." She went quiet, and once more Ianto mourned the loss of the Sillin DNA sequencer while he logged into the terminal and tapped into the archive search protocols. The system was extensively cross-referenced, but like any library tended by many hands, it still had plenty of holes. It was possible that while a DNA trace might not turn up the the alien's species, a few keywords would turn up an old incident report or something else they could use.
Ianto flexed his hands, preparing to type, but frowned as he noticed the numbness in his fingers. Damn, but he was tired. It was obscenely late, even for them, and the day had been busy even before the incident on the bay. He made two fists then relaxed them, wincing as the increased blood flow brought pins and needles into his fingertips, chasing the numb feeling away. He flexed one more time before starting to input as much information as he could into the system. He focused on the complicated form to help disassociate himself from the throbbing pain in his nose and the steady ache of a headache in full bloom.
His hand strayed absently to yank at the knot of his tie and touched bare, slightly clammy skin instead. He frowned at the memory lapse. He hadn't bothered to put on a fresh one in his haste to avoid Jack. Add advancing senility to his other complaints. Ianto pushed the thoughts away as he concentrated on specifics about the life pod: dimension, colour, shape. The alien: four arms, in sets of two. Colour: blue. Hue could be important, so he let the computer colour match directly from the RAW image file on his camera's memory card. He had nearly completed the form when Gwen came back on over his headset.
"Sorry. I was listening to recordings of radio traffic from the police scanner. It sounded like we might have had a second incident, but it was just some kids out way past their bedtime, playing with an oversized kite."
"No biscuits for them, and a stern talking to, I suppose?" Ianto asked dryly.
"If we're lucky," Gwen replied. "Honestly, parents today. If my kid were out running the streets..." She trailed off and sounded somewhat embarrassed when she continued, "Anyway, nothing to report. It seems our pod is the only one, at least so far. I'll keep listening."
Ianto glanced at his computer; the hourglass flipped at regular intervals, indicating the system was churning through the possibilities. It would take time. "I've got the internal database searches covered from here," he reported. "Let me check on a few more possibilities, then I'll be down with a cup of tea." He considered a moment. It was likely she would be all but isolated until the doctor figured out the cause of the alien's illness. "Is there anything else I can get you? Jack sent you down there with no notice. And it's late. I can bring you a blanket. Let you put your head down for a bit."
"That's sweet of you," Gwen replied. Ianto could practically hear her smile over the comm system. "But I'm fine. I'm going to look through some of the online newspaper morgues. Check the overseas databases. See if I can't turn up something that way."
"You never know," Ianto replied. "Happy hunting."
Jack leaned against the bathroom basin, struggling to catch his breath. The first wave of the headache had been overwhelmed by a bout of nausea so severe he'd barely made it back to the bathroom before the attack of dry heaves caught up with him. He turned on the tap, caught a handful of water and brought it to his mouth, swallowing it slowly. It helped. He took another mouthful, holding it on his tongue before letting it trickle down his throat, and splashed more water onto his face. His fingers fumbled the tap, and he frowned as he examined his hands, holding them to the light and flexing his fingers. They felt strange, as if he was wearing too-tight gloves. He blotted his face and narrowed his eyes at his reflection, watching as beads of sweat popped up almost as soon the water had been towelled away.
Nausea - different from his sympathetic morning sickness - hands not quite right, sweating... With a suspicious frown, Jack opened the medicine cabinet. He found a digital thermometer among Ianto's stash of personal items and stuck it under his tongue.
It beeped. He checked the readout: 39.17 C. "Great. Not just infected. Sick."
He staggered to the ladder. Forcing himself to stand straighter and to ignore the headache, the nausea, and the creeping numbness in his feet and hands, Jack appeared almost normal by the time he reached his office and strode out into the Hub.
Ianto blinked. The computer continued to churn on the searches he'd initiated, but he knew that if he could just keep his thoughts in order, he could pull information out of the system faster.
"Coffee," he announced to the wall. It had been hours since his last cup. Probably half of his headache was caused by caffeine withdrawal. He stumbled as he got up. His feet were numb. Clearly, he'd spent too much time in his shoes, so, seeing no reason not to, he toed them off and kicked them under the bottom shelf before stepping over to the coffee maker.
He allowed himself to stand still for several seconds, inhaling the rich aroma of dark-roasted Kenyan beans, letting the scent comfort and focus him. He felt unsteady on his feet, tired. The counter's edge dug into his hip as he melted against it, the fresh pain enough provocation to get moving again. He dipped beans out of the canister and into the grinder, wincing at the noise it made. He shivered, a sudden chill catching him unaware. Maybe taking his shoes off hadn't been such a good idea. Ianto sank back into his chair, holding his arms tightly around himself to wait for the coffee machine to cycle.
"Captain!" Megan called from the medical bay. "How is our other patient?"
"JJ. Right," Jack said. He put on his best 'no worries' face and went to check. The young man was stretched out on the couch, the oxygen mask still strapped to his face. The cylinder gauge read nearly empty, so Jack removed it before continuing his cursory exam.
JJ's normally sallow complexion was uncharacteristically flushed. His skin was clammy, probably with fever, but Jack was in no position to judge without going back to the medical bay for a thermometer. The pulse under Jack's fingers raced alarmingly.
Jack ignored the unsteadiness in his legs as he straightened to his full height. "Doc, you need to see this."
Gwen pushed the keyboard away with a frustrated sigh.
"Oh sure, it's all well and good to stick me down here to do research, Jack." She glowered at the computer screen mounted on the wall across from her. "With an Internet connection that will only let me see the pages, but no way to send e-mail to the people that might have answers." She looked up at the ceiling. "Tosh, sweetheart, wherever you are, I know you would have finished undoing the things Suzie did to sabotage lockdown protocols if you'd had the time. But what good is partially getting around a communications lockout? Not good at all. In fact, it's bloody frustrating."
Gwen rose from the table, stumbling a little as she did so. She took a moment to steady herself against the back of a chair. Ianto was right. She probably did need to put her head down for a bit. "And speaking of Ianto, where is he with my bloody tea?"
Her head hurt and it was making her cranky. She went to the mini-fridge and rummaged among the stash of beer, hoping for a bottle of juice or something else maternity-friendly. Instead, she frowned, finding nothing but that miserable barley-lemon water Rhys had forced on her as being a good drink for the baby.
"Oh well, only choice is the best choice."
Gwen opened the bottle and took a swig, grimacing as it went down too fast. She sputtered and choked, coughed, then took a smaller, more dignified mouthful.
"Sorry, love," she said as she patted her stomach. "Daddy knows best."
She sat back in her chair, shoved the keyboard to the other side of the table, put her feet up, and closed her eyes.
Muli withdrew the thermometer from JJ's mouth and tutted. "Fever. Dilated pupils. Rapid pulse." She looked at his hand. Something was odd about the way his fingers were curled against his palm. Frowning, she prodded JJ's hand with the pointed cap of her biro. No reaction. "That's strange." She repeated the experiment, poking a bit harder. Still nothing. "Impaired neurological function? Not a panic attack then."
She removed a syringe and several Vacutainers from her lab coat, rolled off a vein and took a blood sample. Carefully, she marked the tubes and dropped them back into her pocket. "I'll analyse this." She glanced at Jack. "You look a bit peaky, yourself. I think it's time to test everyone."
"Don't worry about me," Jack said as he started to walk away. "Get the rest of the team."
Dr. Muli cleared her throat. "You're closest, and you never know. Your sample could be the one that unlocks this for me."
Jack shrugged. "Fine. Just be quick about it."
They went back to the medical bay. Jack tried to think of a snappy remark to lighten the mood but came up blank.
"Sit there." Dr. Muli pointed at the stool.
Jack sat quietly and let the doctor shine a light in his eyes, listen to his chest, and finally draw his blood. He noticed her initial interest in the high tech tools had waned. She had returned to traditional instruments.
"Symptoms?" Dr. Muli asked, inflating the blood pressure cuff she'd put around his arm.
Jack started to answer, but Muli shushed him as she deflated the cuff. She turned her back and started jotting notes in a chart. "I said, symptoms?"
"Headache, nausea, fever," Jack replied quickly, before she could find a reason to shush him again. He was beginning to find her hyper-focused work style more intimidating than annoying. "I'm tired. My hands and feet feel strange, too," he added after a couple of seconds of thought. "They're tingling."
Muli motioned for Jack to open his mouth. He stuck out his tongue. She glanced at it, swabbed the back hard enough to make even him gag and followed it with a thermometer.
"You were almost sick on the boat," she noted. She plucked his hand out of his lap and examined it closely, working his fingers, checking his response. "Sluggish," she added, more to herself than to him.
Jack looked down at his feet; his boots needed polishing. "Unrelated," he muttered around the plastic probe. "Also, not important." The timer on the thermometer beeped. He handed it to her, and she made another note on his chart. Impatience crept into his tone. "You about finished? I want to check on Gwen and Ianto."
"Let me start on these samples," Dr. Muli said, turning away. "I'll come collect the others shortly."
"Fine." Once again, Jack realised he'd been dismissed by his subordinate. This time, he didn't mind.
Crash Course: Part Two