VS3:09 -- "The Remains of the Date", Part One
Jack and Ianto try again to have their date, but they are interrupted by a distress call from an alien spacecraft. When the dust settles, Ianto has a new perspective on his work, the planet, and Jack.
The Remains of the Date
by: lawsontl, lionessvalenti
Gwen reflexively wiped her nose with a tissue, tossing it into the rubbish bin beneath her workstation. It had been seven days since they'd recovered the life pod from Cardiff Bay and, though she'd been spared some of the worst effects of Xanther Syndrome, it seemed the trade-off was to be the one whose symptoms lingered longest. Her fever had yet to break, trapping her in the Hub long after Dr. Muli had let the rest of the team venture outside. But aside from Gwen's health, things were almost back to Torchwood Normal. The world had successfully avoided any kind of apocalypse, Ianto had made a token visit to his flat to grab the post, and Jack had been working with their alien guest on boosting hir transponder signal to get it past Rift interference.
"How are you feeling?" Muli asked, climbing up from the med bay, white coat juxtaposed against cargo trousers, stethoscope draped around her neck.
"Time for another checkup?" Gwen pasted on a smile she didn't feel. "Promise, I'll stay in this dimension. No disappearing to other wards. Pinky swear." She offered up a pinky for emphasis.
Muli smirked. "Current symptoms?"
"I'm leaking like an old faucet. I'm coughing up green globs that look like Jabba the Hutt's firstborn, and the highlights of my day are doing remote support for Rift alerts and trying to remember what my husband's face looks like."
"Please, Gwen, don't hold back on my account." Muli dropped a few items on Gwen's workstation and began palpating her throat. "Lymph nodes are feeling better," she said, half under her breath, before making a note on her chart.
Gwen shook her head apologetically. "I'm sorry. I know it's not your fault. I'm just going mad down here. Do you think I'll be quarantined much longer?"
Muli whipped the stethoscope from around her neck, inserting the eartips. She replied in fits and starts as she listened to Gwen's chest. "I really wish I could tell you. We have so little information about this bacterium, and everyone has responded differently."
"Even the bloody pterodactyl is allowed outside!" Gwen protested, catching herself before stamping her foot. "Sorry," she said again. "I'm being childish."
Muli gave her an understanding pat on the shoulder. "You do have Violet." She raised a hand toward the indigo-skinned alien, letting hir know the use of hir human-friendly moniker was not a request for assistance. "Vy's not Rhys," she added, switching to the Tetrabrachian's nickname. "But at least you're not the only one stuck down here."
"I know. Poor dear." Gwen gazed fondly at Vy, quietly occupied at the coffee table ze'd appropriated as a workbench. When not modifying the transponder, ze'd become a master at anticipating their needs for food and drink. When Jack had asked how ze did it, Vy had replied that since ze couldn't understand English, ze focused on the sounds their bodies were making. It had led to a day or two of self-consciousness on everyone's part. Well, except for Jack, who'd frequently quizzed Vy on what a particular grumble or gurgle suggested. Then they all just got over it and appreciated the help. "I'm still a little surprised Jack has given hir liberty of the Hub," she added.
"Not his usual modus operandi?" Muli motioned to Gwen, who lifted both arms and flipped her wrists up.
"No, and completely in violation of Torchwood policy." They were both silent a moment as pulses were counted and compared. Muli let go, and Gwen folded her arms in her lap.
"I get the feeling that hasn't hindered him in the past," Muli said, making another note on her chart.
"I think he's making an effort to loosen up."
"If Jack gets any looser, he'll fall apart."
Both women laughed as Muli turned to the items she'd dropped, lifting a Vacutainer and waving it playfully at Gwen. Gwen offered up the arm with the good vein.
"Oh, I think he's still got some wiggle room, Megan. I mean, Vy's not doing data entry. Can you imagine how much headway we could make with four arms?"
She nodded, slipping in the needle effortlessly. "It's only because the mainframe doesn't have a Galactic Standard font."
Gwen started to laugh again but replaced it with a sneeze, followed by a cough for good measure. She made a miserable face. "This got old fast."
"It'll pass." Muli popped a plaster over the puncture wound and tucked the debris into the knee pocket of her trousers. Then she dropped into the chair at her workstation. "Just take good care of yourself and the little one." She waved at Gwen's stomach using the Vacutainer. "The rest will happen on its own," she said, raising a pinky.
"I'm trying. I really am. Vy's a big help. And so are you. It's such a relief to have a team doctor again." Gwen had also felt an immediate connection with Muli. Maybe because they'd already worked together on the case at St. Jude's. Maybe because she understood what it was like to be the new girl. Gwen sipped at her tea as Muli made a few more notes on the chart and labelled the blood sample.
Finally, Muli sighed, pulling the scarf off her head and scrubbing at her closely-cropped hair to fluff it back up. "I'll let you know when I feel half as competent as I should be."
"You'll know you're doing well when Jack flirts with you," she told her.
"Jack flirts with Vy."
"He flirts with anything on two legs, so four is probably like Christmas." Gwen snorted.
"I'm not sure that's making me feel better."
"Um, misery loves company?"
Muli shrugged, half-smiling, half-smirking. "I suppose so. It is going to be just the two of us on duty tonight, what with Jack and Ianto going on a date."
"Trying, at least. Seems like something always interrupts them."
"They are boyfriends, right?"
"It's hard to label them," Gwen replied, waving her tea cup for emphasis. "Why do you ask?"
"Well, if they've never been on an actual date, when have they had time to get to know each other? It seems like all they ever do is work. That doesn't leave much time for romance."
"Give it a few more weeks. You'll understand."
Muli made a noncommittal noise then leaned back in her chair, pulling a bottle of water out of one of her many pockets and taking a drink. "I hear they're going to that new nightclub that's moored at the quayside."
"Club Remedy." Gwen smothered a laugh. "Can you imagine? Ianto hovering over Jack's coat so no one spills anything on it. Jack trying to get the DJ to play Glenn Miller. They'll probably be looking for an excuse to leave before Ianto finishes his drink."
"At least it's age-appropriate for Ianto. He's too young to be so serious about his job."
Gwen nodded. "Who knows? Maybe the music will take its course, all those pheromones will cut loose, and Jack will get Ianto to loosen up."
Just as she was finishing, the door rolled open, and Ianto walked in. Gwen and Muli gaped in unison.
"What?" Ianto asked, peeling off his black denim jacket and tossing it on the coat rack. He twisted around and examined his rear end. A rear that had been squeezed into dangerously tight blue jeans. Worn thin in all the right places. As if he'd owned them for a very long time. Or spent a lot of money at an excessively trendy shop. "Did I sit on something?" He twisted in the other direction then shot them a confused look.
"Um, no," Gwen replied, attempting not to stammer. It wasn't as if she hadn't seen him in casual clothing before. But this wasn't the drab, practical gear he'd sported for the Brecon Beacons fiasco; this was the sort of wardrobe that invited hasty removal. She tapped her throat, indicating the patch of Ianto's chest bared by his open shirt. He was wearing a strand of chunky beads, and it drew attention to the dark tufts of hair curling around it.
"Oh, this?" He stepped closer, leaning in to show her as he lifted the strand from his throat. "Lisa made it."
"Oh."
He interrupted before she could say anything else. "He ready yet?" he asked, nodding at Jack's office. "Thank you, Vy," he added, raising the mug of tea Vy had placed in his hands. Gwen hadn't even noticed hir getting up. It would've been spooky if Ianto hadn't frequently done the same thing.
"You are well come," Vy replied, the accent flawless but with emphasis on the wrong syllables. Ze settled on the sofa cushion ze had placed on the floor, then returned hir attention to the transponder.
"He's been down there over half an hour, so I'd hope," Gwen said, and almost as if he'd been waiting for an introduction, Jack strutted out of his office. Gwen snorted. Muli bit her lip.
"No," Ianto said, shaking his head and rather pointedly setting his mug on a workstation before heading over to Jack. "Just, no."
Jack said nothing, smirking as he lifted his arms to allow Ianto to flip down his braces and yank the hem of his shirt from his jeans.
'The captain owns denims?' Muli mouthed at Gwen. Gwen shrugged, equally bewildered.
"And they say office relationships lead to one person being favoured over the others," Jack said, beaming as Ianto began unbuttoning his shirt.
"How's that?" Muli asked, even as Gwen tried to wave her off, knowing they were being baited.
"We go out, you two get the mental image of Ianto undressing me to keep you warm while we're gone."
"You spend so much time thinking of others, Jack, it's a wonder you get anything else done," Ianto replied sardonically. He stepped back, resting his chin in his hand. "Do you really intend to wear that shirt?"
"Not really," Jack said, removing it with a flourish. The tee he wore beneath was not the usual undershirt. This one was thick cotton, brilliantly white, and tight enough to show off his pectoral muscles.
Gwen wolf-whistled. Muli appeared unsure how to react, still new to Jack's 'sexual-harassment-as-team-building' approach. Vy seemed far more interested in the transponder. Jack said something cheeky-sounding in Galactic Standard, to which Vy replied, eyes still on hir work.
"What?" Ianto asked over his shoulder, carrying the superfluous clothing to Jack's office.
"Ze doesn't understand why we bother with clothes. I like how ze thinks."
"You would," Ianto muttered, returning with Jack's greatcoat. "Shall we? It's early enough that we could probably still get a table at-" An alert sounded from the computers, and they bolted for the workstations.
"Oh, no!" Gwen shouted, standing up and putting her arms out to block the men. "We've got it. You go."
"I know you do. I just want to know what it is," Jack protested. As he said it, he was stepping backwards so Ianto could help him into his greatcoat.
Gwen tapped at her keyboard. "Some kind of signal." Her eyes flicked back and forth, interpreting readouts. She paused long enough to explain one particular string to Muli. "Not Earth-based, so not our jurisdiction. Go."
"I think they're trying to get rid of us," Ianto stage-whispered. He leaned in, reading over Gwen's shoulder.
"Maybe they have plans of their own," Jack said, all teeth and flashing eyes. "That, um, CCTV diagnostic finished?" he asked with a nudge that translated from Jack-to-English as 'make sure you copy anything good to my computer.'
"Boys!" Gwen snapped. "Out!" She pointed to the invisible lift. "Date!"
"Well, that's us told," Ianto said, and Jack smirked in agreement. He touched his fingertips to the small of Ianto's back, escorting him to the paving stone. After Ianto stepped on, Jack whirled into place at his side, coattails adding the requisite flourish.
"We're available if-"
Muli had finally had enough. "Are you trying to get out of being alone together?" They looked at each other, shaking their heads, apparently perplexed. She jumped out of her chair and joined them at the base of the Rift fountain. "Which button?" she asked, pointing to the control stand.
"This one," Jack replied, flipping open his vortex manipulator. A second later, the lift jerked to life.
"That's better," she said, folding her arms over her chest.
"It's a distress call," Gwen sighed from her computer. Muli turned in unison with the two men.
"From Vy's people?" Jack was already reopening his strap.
"Doesn't match," Gwen said, sounding rather distracted. "But it's not..." She paused, looking up. "It's a repeating loop, but the translation matrix is having problems parsing it."
"Not recognised?" Jack leaned over as the lift continued to rise, one finger poised to interrupt their departure.
"No, an error. I've never quite got the hang of this thing." She started typing again, trying a different command.
"Did you-" Ianto began.
"No. Go!" Gwen shouted back. "I'm sorting it." Text rolled past the screen this time, but it was illegible. She added a switch to the command and hit enter, then looked up to check the lift's progress to the Plass. It had stopped. "Jack, honestly!"
"It'll only take a minute," he replied. He punched in another code, and it began to lower. "Like you said, it's off-world. We'll just help with that, and then we'll go. There's plenty of time." Ianto's eyes met Jack's, and they nodded agreement.
Gwen bolted from her chair. "I know you're tetchy about leaving while the rest of us are working, but I promise you, I will call if we really need you." Her lips curled into a smile. "Or, more importantly, if anything fun happens."
"Does that count as fun?" Ianto pointed behind her. She spun around just in time to see something materialising outside Jack's office. It was an ovoid form of a particularly unattractive shade of opaque brown. As soon as the materialisation appeared to be complete, two things happened: the internal alarms in the Hub began to wail, and the form shivered. As quickly as it had materialised, it collapsed into a pancake of goo about the size of a tyre.
Muli immediately ran for the medical bay, returning a split-second later wearing her respirator mask and bearing the Bekaran scanner. She'd grown a bit fonder of it after Jack had initiated a training protocol that involved having her demonstrate how the various equipment worked by using it on herself.
"No lockdown this time, Doc," Jack chuckled as the lift shuddered to a stop. "That's just an alert letting us know that our defences have been breached."
"Then go!" Gwen replied, shooing them with one hand as she disabled the alarm with the other. Muli shucked her mask then aimed the scanner at the thing on the floor.
"Are you kidding?" Jack asked. "And miss first contact?"
Ianto paused mid-stride, one foot still on the lift. "Are you sure this is first contact? Perhaps we should be getting a mop?" He gestured to Vy, putting two fists on top of one another and waving them side to side in what was apparently universal butler sign language for 'mop.' Vy nodded once and stood up.
"No, wait!" Jack put out a hand, stopping hir. Vy looked confused. Ianto looked annoyed. "It's moving." Everyone's eyes returned to the mass. It was shifting, trying to reshape itself. It also appeared to have two distinct viscosities, one quite firm and substantive, the other a ring of thin liquid at its circumference, making it look like a rather unwholesome egg. "I could be wrong," Jack continued, stepping closer and pointing to the ring, "but I think this is... Gwen, did we respond to the hail?"
"Yes," she replied. "But just a generic 'Hi, you've reached Torchwood. We're unable to take your call.' I'm going to send something more specific once I get a translation."
"Oh, baby." Jack grinned. He flicked his coattails out of the way and knelt by the creature. "Whatever this is, it uses micturition."
"What?" Muli asked, looking to Ianto for an answer. He shrugged.
"Micturition. They speak through fluid exchange." He leaned forward, pressing his lips to the surface of the thinner liquid, and began to speak strangely, each word plosive and breathy.
"Sometimes, it's just too easy to bother making a joke." Ianto sighed. He slipped off his jacket and joined Jack beside their surprise guest. "So, are you two going to snog or get into a pissing contest?"
"If humans could actually think into a liquid stream, absolutely, that would be perfect, however-"
"Scanner shows something's materialising inside it!" Muli interrupted, her voice raising in alarm.
"That's what I was hoping for," Jack replied. A moment later, the creature extruded a sphere about four centimetres in diameter. Once it reached the surface, it seemed to float there, begging to be picked up. Without waiting to see if Jack was actually going to do so, Ianto put an arm out to stop him.
"It's okay. I know exactly what this is," Jack replied, almost fondly. "Haven't seen one in decades," he added, still grinning as he plucked it from the gooey surface. "But..." With a flick of his wrist, it illuminated on one side, and he began speaking to that hemisphere. After a quick pass through the alphabet and a nursery rhyme, he proceeded to introduce himself, then he placed it back on the surface of the alien, bright side down. The light dimmed slowly, and the alien melted beneath it. A moment later, the dark half brightened, and Jack held the sphere up to his temple.
"What?" Ianto leaned closer, eyes widening in fascination.
"Translator," Jack replied, so distracted by what he was hearing that he didn't seem to notice the viscous fluid leaking down his fingers. Ianto dug out a handkerchief and dangled it on a fingertip, waiting patiently, until Jack laughed like a little kid. He opened his eyes, staring at the sphere with unchecked amazement before sobering up.
"Well, it was definitely a distress call," he said, grabbing the handkerchief and wiping himself clean. He handed the square back to Ianto and turned.
"Confirmed," Gwen replied. "I got the translation matrix sorted, and I've identified the species. It's the... kwah... ah..." She frowned and pointed to her monitor. "That!"
The rest of the team gathered around, looking where her finger rested.
Qaa'aa'ajaa'aaa
Jack attempted to sound it out. "Kah... ah... aga..." As he did so, it appeared to be jogging his memory, because he turned his head, examining the creature on the floor like he'd never seen it before. Before he could make another pronunciation attempt, Vy began to wave all four of hir arms excitedly.
Once everyone was looking at hir, ze exclaimed, "Qaa'aa'ajaa'aaa!"
Something in the way ze said it led Jack to exclaim, "Yes! I should have recognised it sooner. We studied them at the Time Agency."
"Time Agency?" Muli asked.
Gwen waved her off as Jack ran back to their alien intruder. He settled cross-legged on the floor next to it, snatched up the sphere, and began talking into it again. "Torchwood sends greetings to your aggregate. What is the source of your distress?"
As Jack waited for the alien to respond, Ianto took up a post at Tosh's old workstation, typing furiously. "Spelling?" he asked Gwen, and she read off the string of characters to him.
"No organs," Muli said, still carefully scanning their visitor. "Not even a circulatory system or brain, at least as I know it. It's just a blob."
Jack glowered at her, returning the sphere to his temple.
"What's wrong?" she asked, backing away.
"Their ship has been invaded." He'd already put the sphere back on the puddle and was bouncing impatiently while the light shifted sides.
"The Qaa... aj..." Ianto said, breaking the brief silence. "The Gooliens are researchers. They go from planet to planet, studying life forms without interacting."
"Signal source is a ship in geosynchronous orbit. Why didn't we get an alert?" Gwen asked no one in particular. "Even the Siiu Anto Mala left traces."
Ianto answered, reading from his screen, "The Goolien ships have an incredibly sophisticated camouflage system. They can mimic just about anything, including debris, to avoid detection." He paused to scroll down. "They are also incredibly private."
"So why is one in the Hub?" Muli asked.
Jack replied, translation sphere in hand. "Two days ago," he snarled, "something from Earth got sucked up to their ship. And now it's attacking them."
"Attacking?" Gwen asked, glancing at the Goolien. "How do you attack jelly?"
Jack was silent, literally absorbing more information as the pace of the back and forth communication increased. "You eat it," he said, sounding sick. "The Big Gun." He turned to Ianto. "Get it."
"Yes, sir." Ianto nodded, abandoning his workstation.
"Jack, are we loaning them the gun for defence?" Gwen asked. "Because, if so, I'm not sure that they can shoot it. Aside from the fact it's bigger than they are, the profile also indicates they aren't able to manipulate tools or clutch anything other than small objects."
"Gimme a minute," he replied, extending a palm into the air at his side. "Repeat that description," he said to the alien. Everyone watched while the sphere reloaded. Jack groaned as he listened to the answer.
"Well?" Muli asked, shutting off the scanner.
"Rats." Jack let out a dry, bitter laugh.
"Excuse me?"
"Rats," he repeated. "They're infested with them. And they've just asked us to board their ship to help get rid of 'em."
Ianto bounded back into the work area despite being laden with what looked like a bloated guitar case. "I'll just nip off to Tesco for some rat poison then, shall I?"
"Hold up," Muli interjected. "How do we know rat poison won't poison the Gooliens?"
"The what?" Jack looked at Ianto, who raised both brows and shrugged.
"So, when do we go?" Gwen asked, spinning away from her keyboard with a mad grin on her face.
"Tesco?" Ianto left one brow up, telegraphing his confusion.
"No, the ship, silly!" Gwen replied with a laugh.
"Absolutely out of the question!" Muli snapped.
"But..."
"Wait, wait!" Jack waved his arms, stopping the chatter and focusing on Muli. "We're going. We've responded to the SOS, so we're duty-bound to provide whatever assistance we can."
"I'm not suggesting we shouldn't help, Captain, but why not beam something helpful up to them instead of putting the team at risk?"
"We're dealing with a translation. I don't know how accurate it is. We can put together half a plan and hope it works, or we can do some recon and fix it the first time."
Chastened, she nodded.
"Use the information you got from the scanner. See if you're right about the poison. That'll limit our options. Gwen, start researching alternatives, especially ones that are portable. Ianto, with me. We'll go up to the ship to see how bad this infestation is."
Ianto nodded, but he'd only barely put down the gun case when Dr. Muli interrupted again. "Also absolutely out of the question."
"But I'm not..." Ianto protested, hedging his bets by pointing to his stomach instead of saying it aloud.
Gwen glowered at him anyhow. "Just because I'm pregnant-"
"Xanther crosses species. You're still under quarantine," Muli broke in.
"Two pairs of eyes, Doc. We'll get a plan together faster. And that way we can still have that date." Jack waved Ianto over next to him. "We need to crouch down. Their ships have low ceilings." Ianto started to settle beside him.
"This is reckless and irresponsible!" Muli said.
Jack, who had just lifted the sphere to his lips, looked over it at her and replied icily, "Noted."
She wasn't deterred. "Do you have any idea if their transportation system is compatible with human physiology?"
Ianto looked over at him expectantly, and Jack's face paled the slightest bit. He seemed to be at a loss for words.
"You don't," Gwen said, half a statement, half a question.
"I don't understand why you would ask your boyf- your team to go into a situation without being aware of the risks."
Jack cleared his throat. "They've been studying us. It goes against Qaa'aa'ajaa'aaa philosophy to put us in danger. It's my job to know that, and your job to patch us up if something goes wrong."
Muli swallowed hard, but she didn't back down. "All I'm suggesting is that you don't endanger two team members unless it's absolutely necessary. Yes, the aliens are in a crisis situation, but it's a rodent infestation. That doesn't strike me as life-or-death." She appeared to be holding her breath as she awaited his response.
Jack looked between Ianto and Gwen. Ianto's face bore the calm expression that said he'd go along with whatever Jack decided. Gwen nodded, knowing her agreement wasn't always a given.
Jack weighed the sphere in his palm for a moment, then clasped it and raised it back to his lips. "One human to investigate." He put the sphere back down on the alien. "Ianto, help Gwen."
Ianto stood up and finger-pressed the collar of Jack's greatcoat, lingering a bit longer than necessary before returning to Tosh's workstation.
"Thank you, Captain," Muli said.
Jack stared at her for an uncomfortably long time, the silence heavy between them. Then he blinked, sat down next to the alien, and flattened a palm on the surface of its skin. He inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, and within seconds, began to dissolve.
Ianto stared, eyes wide. Muli gasped, crossing herself. Gwen turned back to her workstation and said, "Right then. Rodent control."
Dr. Muli leaned over the metal table in the med bay and exhaled slowly. If St. Jude's had been a fresh start, then Torchwood was practically a new identity. Yet she'd been harping on Captain Harkness like he was some kind of duffer, and she could no longer blame it on Xanther Syndrome. Something about him just rubbed her the wrong way. He hadn't turned out to be the militaristic prat she'd been expecting. On the contrary, his methods were anything but regimented. So why did his loose management style grate on her even more? It didn't matter. Torchwood was her chance to get it right: defend her methods, find solutions without being hobbled by politics and protocols. She might never be able to publish her work, but she'd mentally cock a snook at the WHO with every little victory. That was worth learning to deal with the man's quirks.
"Okay," she said, straightening up and staring at the subway tiles lining the walls, counting them off in Swahili - moja, mbili, tatu, nne, tano - as her grandmother had taught her. Visions of their home, a riot of colour and comfort, flooded her mind, and the adrenalin began to dissipate. "He hasn't fired you. Do your job before you give him a reason to change his mind." She pulled the stool over with the toe of her trainer and dropped onto it. "Or erase yours," she added with a shudder.
Sidling up to the table, she grabbed the Cleverness Guide and flipped to the back. The encyclopaedia of all things alien had become her favourite reading material, when she actually had a moment to read, but she'd gotten nowhere near the letter "Q." This time, she flipped straight to the section on the Gooliens, put the scanner on the spine to hold the pages open, then logged in to the Torchwood mainframe.
"So," she said, glancing at the book, "how do you absorb substances and which ones are deadly to you?"
"Google, huh?" Ianto asked Gwen, leaning away from the computer.
"Trade secret," she replied, then laughed at herself. "Dirty secret, more like. It's frightening how much I've found with it, even as a copper."
"Whatever works," he said, shrugging and returning his attention to his own screen.
"So what are you doing?" she asked, no longer looking at him, either. The sound of clicking keys filled the space around trickles of water and the hum of equipment fans.
"Digging into the archives for the source of Torchwood's proprietary rat elimination technology." He chewed on the words with a sort of relish.
"Elimination?" she asked, alarmed enough to stop typing. "Who said anything about killing?"
"They're eating the Gooliens. I think we might be past having them round for tea." He immediately shook his head at Vy. Vy offered a four-armed shrug, then turned to Gwen, giving her the Tetrabrachian equivalent of a smile.
"No, dear," Gwen said, also shaking her head. "Thank you." Vy shrugged again.
Gwen looked back to Ianto, hands now folded in her lap. "I wasn't suggesting we make friends, but there's no reason to kill them. They're trapped in a spaceship and need food. That makes them desperate, not dangerous."
Ianto didn't look convinced. "Feral rats carry disease."
"The Plague? That was fleas."
He shook his head and counted off on his fingers as he said, "Hantavirus, murine typhus, rat-bite fever, salmonella, leptospirosis, a variant of meningitis-"
"Okay, I get it," she interrupted, raising her hands in surrender.
"Possessed by Owen for a moment." He smirked in lieu of an apology.
Gwen laughed again, returning to her search. "Why rats? Did you grow up in the country?"
"The Hub's infested with them."
"I've never seen so much as one."
"That's because I do my job well," he replied, stabbing a key with his index finger. He flashed her a grin.
"You..." She glanced around the Hub. "You do that?"
"Should've seen what this place was like before you joined up, especially the way they left rubbish everywhere. Even the cat was intimidated by our thriving rat population."
"Cat? We had a cat? What happened to it?" She felt the blood draining from her face. "Oh, God, not the rats!"
"No. She just disappeared." He said this last bit fondly, as if he didn't quite mourn her absence.
Suddenly, Gwen had visions of tufts of cat fur in the eyrie, a belled collar in tatters... "Myfanwy?"
"Myfanwy learnt the hard way not to tangle with her. Still has a scar on her beak. I believe having a pterodactyl competing for attention was too much. Jack spotted her catting about near the docks."
Gwen pursed her lips, holding back a smile. She followed another link from her search results, then sat up straight. "Oh, hey, this is an interesting no-kill option."
Ianto didn't even blink, the blue background of his monitor casting shadows on his face. "Glue traps are pretty horrid, actually."
"Not glue traps." She pasted the link into an IM session.
Ianto followed the URL and raised an eyebrow. "You have my undivided attention."
She dragged her chair next to his, propping her chin on his shoulder. She liked how he no longer stiffened when she did it. It wasn't exactly a bear hug, but it was progress. "No one around here sells them, though," she added, disappointed.
He scrolled down the page, eyes darting back and forth as he reviewed the specs. "I could probably rig one up with equipment we have to hand."
"Really?"
He gave her a wink, knocking her skull with his in a gesture that might have been affectionate. "I've been told I'm good at improvising."
"Where's Jack?" Muli called. Gwen watched her reflection in the monitor as the doctor climbed up from the medical bay. She was making notes in the margins of the Cleverness Guide as she walked, paying no attention to the space around her.
"Still on the ship," Ianto replied, nodding to where Jack had dematerialised.
"Really?"
Ianto continued typing. "No. Sorry. You caught us. I've locked him in the cells with Janet. It's Friday. We always mutiny on Friday. Tradition."
Muli looked up at last. "Should I have dressed smarter?" she asked, pointing to her clothes.
Gwen glanced over her shoulder as she replied, "Mutiny is casual. We save the formal gear for end of the world scenarios." Furtively, she swapped to the program monitoring the orbiting ship. Still there, still in one piece. She exhaled. The only thing she liked less than being forced to listen to a mission on comms was having no comms at all.
"So why does Ianto wear a waistcoat and tie every day?" Muli asked, clapping the book shut and tucking it under her arm.
The noise seemed to break Ianto's concentration enough that he spun in his chair to face them both. "Because, when you work for Torchwood, every day is quite possibly the end of the world as we know it."
"Except Friday," Gwen added cheerily.
"Except Friday," he agreed, nodding in her direction. He slouched down a bit, long legs sprawling and underlining his uncharacteristic dress. "And Third Thursdays."
Muli dropped into her chair, letting the book and other items she was carrying tumble onto the surface of her workstation. She leaned forward, elbows on knees. "What are Third Thursdays?"
Ianto cleared his throat. "On the third Thursday of each month, we run disaster recovery tests and see how we do."
"And how have we done?"
"No idea," he told her with a shrug. "So far, there's been a disaster every time we've scheduled a test." Gwen gave a commiserating laugh as he finished.
Muli didn't seem to get it. "So the DR plan works, then?"
Gwen waved a hand. "Provided the Hub doesn't get destroyed."
The doctor glanced around the lofty ceilings; the Victorian décor spoke of age and permanence despite the generally rundown appearance. "What would happen if the Hub got destroyed?"
"That's what Ianto's trying to document with the tests so we can get the Crown to cough up for another work site."
"You mean there's nowhere else to go?" she asked, eyes widening.
"There used to be four Torchwood locations in the United Kingdom," Ianto replied, but he was no longer looking at them. He swallowed once, very precisely. Too precisely.
"Used to be?"
Gwen jumped in, sparing him the explanation. "Now there's just us and Two, but Two-"
"Is really not the best place to go in the event of a disaster." Ianto smirked, quickly regaining a foothold.
"But it's still operational?" Muli looked increasingly confused, eyes darting back and forth between Gwen and Ianto's rapid-fire exchange. Gwen empathised. She still felt like she was catching up, and she had two years of experience to her advantage.
"Operational is a generous choice of words," Ianto mumbled, thoroughly examining a thumbnail before deciding to straighten it with his teeth.
Gwen snorted, causing Vy to look up. Ze glanced around for a second before realising the noise wasn't important to hir. Hir eyes lingered on Gwen, and Gwen returned a quick smile. It was flattering hosting an alien with a crush on you. When it wasn't incredibly awkward.
"So," Ianto continued, "that's why we're trying to get a hotsite."
"What's our current backup plan?" Muli asked, and her eyes narrowed. At first Gwen thought she was showing concern, then realised her gaze was squarely on Ianto's throat. Is that a love bite? The two women exchanged a look.
"Don't let the Hub get destroyed," Ianto was saying, still giving himself an ad hoc manicure.
Muli's eyes boggled slightly. "And Jack... Oh, never mind." She pointed towards the roof of the Hub. "Speaking of, provided there were no surprises with the transport system, he, or any other human, should be safe on the ship. The..." she paused, made another attempt to use their proper name, mangled it, then relented. "The Goolien ships have a pressurised environment, lower than ours but compatible. Similar atmosphere. CO2 levels are high enough to give Al Gore an aneurysm, but I've been in office buildings that are worse. The one problem I can see is the lower oxygen levels, but so long as you're not gone more than..." She checked her watch, and her expression shifted to concern. "He really should have had supplemental oxygen if he was going to stay away this long."
"What's the risk?" Gwen asked, glad to be off the subject of Torchwood's failings. Jack's derring-do usually had fewer consequences.
Muli thought for a moment, hand on her chin, which she then pulled away to demonstrate. "It'll be like getting dropped off at the top of Kilimanjaro without having had any time to acclimate." She swooped her hand up an imaginary slope, then underlined her point by clutching her throat, as if gasping for air.
"Altitude sickness, then?"
"Yes." She bobbed her head once. "Dizziness, fainting, weakness and malaise, impaired judgement, cyanosis, headaches. Classic signs of diffuse cerebral hypoxia."
Almost the same moment as she finished describing the symptoms, Jack began to materialise in a crouch on the floor. As soon as he became solid, he gasped - not quite as desperately as when he resurrected, but close enough for discomfort. Then he collapsed to his side, looking like he was willing to pass out but hadn't found a convenient break in his schedule.
"Much," Muli said, plucking an oxygen tank from the items she'd dropped on her workstation, "like that."
She went to Jack and immediately pressed the mask to his mouth. He clung to it, and in the space of just a few deep breaths, began to relax, his skin returning to its normal colour.
"Better?" She removed the mask. He nodded. "Keep it," she added, tapping the tank against his chest. "You'll need it when you go back."
"How was the transport?" Ianto crouched at Jack's side.
"Smooth," Jack replied, a huge grin plastered across his face. "At least, as smooth as it ever is when your body is disassembled and put back together again." He put out a hand, and Ianto hauled him up. Jack stumbled a little until he got his legs under him, but Ianto caught him, which only made Jack's grin broaden. Ianto rolled his eyes, spreading his palm on Jack's chest and pushing him down to the sofa.
"You shouldn't have stayed so long, Captain," Muli scolded, but in a gentler tone than she'd used before he'd left. "Even with the difference in oxygen concentration, you have a fair amount of time before it becomes problematic, and there are a few simple steps you can take to prolong time of-"
"TUC was about ten minutes, but it was bad up there." He waved off her concern like a cloud of flies. "I needed to stay."
"How bad?" Ianto asked, his hands on his hips. Gwen noted, with some amusement, that he flicked an invisible suit jacket out of the way before they came to rest. Jack gave him a dark look but said nothing, which seemed to be a sufficient answer. "Coffee, then?" Jack nodded enthusiastically.
Ianto took Vy and headed over to the coffee machine while Jack leaned back, sighing something about gravity as he sunk deeper into the battered cushions. He took a few long, slow breaths before he spoke again. "They're infested. The rats have adapted to space, no problem. Whether that's Darwin or the Rift energy all over them, I don't know. Gwen, have we had any negative spikes in the last 72 hours?"
"What's a negative spike?" Muli asked. Gwen remained silent, tensing as she anticipated Jack's answer. She forced herself to stay focused on her screen as she tabbed over to the Rift reports.
Jack hesitated, but only barely. "The night at the hospital, the girl-"
"The trifurcated young woman. Sian?" Muli interrupted.
Jack nodded. "The Rift doesn't just drop things here. Sometimes it takes them, changes them."
Gwen absently tidied a stack of papers on her workstation, trying not to feel jealous as Jack skated over the details with Muli. No mention of Flat Holm, but it was more than he'd given her when she'd first asked. They'd both learnt from their mistakes, but that didn't make the sting any less painful.
"Jack, down by the docks," Gwen interrupted, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. She lowered her volume a bit. "Small enough that it almost didn't register."
"Well, it must've hit a nest."
"What do we do for negative spikes?" Muli asked, cocking her head to the side in deep fascination. Gwen could see the cogs of her brain turning, no doubt wondering about what other effects the Rift had on living victims.
"Nothing," she replied grimly, not waiting for Jack to offer up a typically vague answer. "There's nothing we can do. We can't predict them. We can't stop them. We can only clean up afterwards." She glanced at him, and he looked down at the floor.
Muli nodded and inhaled, about to speak again, but Jack beat her to the mark. "There're some files you should read, but that's not a priority. Right now, we've got an alien ship infested with rats. What are we going to do about it?"
Surprisingly, Muli stopped pushing, some of the wind having gone out of her sails. "The aliens ingest through simple contact. Based on their biological composition, it's likely that all the commercially available poisons are as toxic to them as to the rats. If there's a way you can isolate the poison to someplace the rats would be but not the crew-"
"Not possible." Jack insistently shook his head. "The rats don't appear to be interested in going anywhere else."
Gwen rotated her chair slowly, facing them again. "And the crew can't shoo them off?"
"They're not equipped to shoo," Jack replied, his laugh hollow.
"When I was looking for options," she continued, "I found an interesting one that involves sound. High frequency sonic waves. It drives the rats away."
Jack looked interested. "Is it audible to the Qaa'aa'ajaa'aaa?"
"No," Ianto said, returning with a tray of hot beverages. "Gwen already sent me the specs, and I've been searching inventory to see if we can make a functioning unit."
"And?" Jack accepted his blue-striped mug, sliding over to make room for Ianto on the sofa's remaining cushion.
"We have what we need," he said, handing the tray off to Vy, who disappeared with it as Ianto sat down.
"How long to make it happen?"
Ianto blew on the surface of his coffee, steam curling in front of his face as he worked on an answer. "Half an hour," he said, squinting in thought. "Providing the tech I'm thinking of is actually where it's supposed to be and is still in working order."
Jack took a gulp from his mug. "Right, so, we upset the rats, then what?" He plopped the mug down on the coffee table, then moved the transponder out of harm's way and grabbed a sheaf of old printouts. A moment later, he'd sketched a rough layout of the ship. "This is what we're working with. How do we trap them?" Muli and Gwen pulled their chairs closer. "Hey, Vy," he yelled across the Hub, and ze appeared from behind the fountain. Jack switched to Galactic Standard, and Vy clasped one pair of hands, the other pair beginning to wave about excitedly.
"What is it?" Gwen asked.
"They're willing to take Vy on to the nearest trading hub if we can help them. Ze'll have to fly with them for a few weeks while they finish their research here, but that'll get hir out of range of the Rift and stop blocking the transponder signal. Increase hir chance of rescue."
"And what did ze say?"
"What do you think?" Jack replied, winking over the brim of his cup.
"Damn," Ianto said, "and ze was just learning not to burn the coffee beans."
An hour later, plan in place, gear assembled, Jack and Ianto were on the sofa, impatient for the Qaa'aa'ajaa'aaa ambassador to pick them up.
"So what do I need to know?" Ianto asked, knee bouncing. "About..." he gestured upward, making a fizzling noise.
Jack placed a hand on his knee, stilling it with a knowing grin. "It's probably better not having too much information. Just stay relaxed, and when we get there, remember to breathe."
Ianto tilted the little oxygen tank back and forth, redirecting the nervous energy to the canister. "I feel bad for Gwen," he continued, sotto voce. "She's the more experienced field agent. She's been on a spaceship, although it wasn't actually in space. She's got to be disappointed having to stay behind this time."
"I would never have let her go," Jack replied, shaking his head.
Ianto looked startled. "Why? With supplemental oxygen, we should be fine." The unspoken need for reassurance hung ever so slightly in his voice. Jack almost felt bad about not being able to give it.
"It really does take you apart, molecule by molecule. It's almost foolproof, but..." He shrugged. He didn't realise he'd placed a hand over his stomach until he felt it there. "I'm not taking the chance. One transmat trip was enough."
"Wish we could at least bring her a souvenir."
"I didn't notice a gift shop, but we could always double-check."
Ianto opened his mouth for what was no doubt a snarky retort, but shut it when they noticed the distinctive glimmer of the alien returning to the Hub. "I suppose that's our ride."
He started to stand up, but Jack grabbed his arm, tugging him down until his ear was level with his lips. "Wanna join the 22,000 Mile High Club?"
"I don't know," Ianto leaned in, the sibilant 'ess' tickling the hairs on the nape of Jack's neck, "do you have enough thrust?"
Jack beamed as they headed over to their escort. Gwen, on the other hand, paced nervously beside her workstation.
"We'll be fine," he reassured her, resting a hand on her shoulder.
"I know, I..." She bit her lip, cutting herself off before glancing nervously at Ianto.
"With a dashing hero like me on the case-"
"-what could possibly go wrong?" she finished.
"Hold down the fort while we're gone," he said, sliding his palm around her neck, thumb rubbing her cheek. "I'm counting on you."
She nodded, swallowed hard, and stepped back, forcing a smile onto her face. "Go, you two, and try not to cause an intergalactic incident!"
"Ma'am!" Jack said brusquely, snapping to attention and saluting. "The rats won't know what hit 'em, ma'am!" He didn't need to look to know that both she and Ianto were rolling their eyes, so instead, he dropped down next to the alien, opposite Ianto. "Ready?" he asked, and Ianto nodded.
His hand shook slightly before touching the alien's skin. Jack lifted the sphere, gave his own 'ready,' then settled his hand beside Ianto's. A second later, the transport device activated, and Ianto's eyes widened.
Light flooded around them, splitting their bodies into cells, cells into molecules, molecules into atoms, until all that was left was a soup of protons and electrons that was sucked into space along a nuclear filament.
They re-materialised side by side on a transport platform, in a tunnel barely large enough for them to sit up. Jack was sure of this because the first thing he'd done on both trips was whack the back of his skull on the darkened ceiling. He took a deep breath, growling and shaking his head. Somehow, that always felt better than sitting quietly while transport side-effects let up. He grabbed the torch in his pocket and flicked it on, beaming it past the Qaa'aa'ajaa'aaa and onto Ianto.
Ianto lay crumpled on his side, covering his mouth and dry heaving into the crook of his elbow. His face was flushed bright red, eyes watering and almost bulging from their sockets. Otherwise, he looked fine. All the right bits were in the right places, at least the ones that Jack could see. He flicked off the torch so their eyes could adjust.
"Hey!" He leaned over and slapped Ianto on the back to distract him. "Breathe through it. It'll pass."
Ianto made a gagging noise that only vaguely resembled a word. At that signal, their Qaa'aa'ajaa'aaa escort began to slither away. Returning to the ship had allowed it to transform from a gravity-flattened pancake into a somewhat misshapen orb. It also seemed to glow from within, an effect that wasn't visible in the brighter lights of the Hub. Its thin skin bubbled over the lip of the platform, gripping the tunnel's textured surface to pull itself forward.
Ianto coughed again, wiping his eyes on his sleeve, then attempted to sit up.
"Watch your-" The wall made a dull ringing noise when it was introduced to the top of Ianto's skull. "Head."
Ianto glowered, wincing as he rubbed the spot. He continued to breathe with unnatural precision, as if he were struggling to keep the contents of his stomach from paying a return visit.
"Here," Jack offered him an empty plastic carrier bag. "Just in case." Ianto looked even more put out. "Believe me, it beats contributing to the ambiance." He directed Ianto's attention to the air around them.
The Remains of the Date: Part Two
The Remains of the Date
by: lawsontl, lionessvalenti
Gwen reflexively wiped her nose with a tissue, tossing it into the rubbish bin beneath her workstation. It had been seven days since they'd recovered the life pod from Cardiff Bay and, though she'd been spared some of the worst effects of Xanther Syndrome, it seemed the trade-off was to be the one whose symptoms lingered longest. Her fever had yet to break, trapping her in the Hub long after Dr. Muli had let the rest of the team venture outside. But aside from Gwen's health, things were almost back to Torchwood Normal. The world had successfully avoided any kind of apocalypse, Ianto had made a token visit to his flat to grab the post, and Jack had been working with their alien guest on boosting hir transponder signal to get it past Rift interference.
"How are you feeling?" Muli asked, climbing up from the med bay, white coat juxtaposed against cargo trousers, stethoscope draped around her neck.
"Time for another checkup?" Gwen pasted on a smile she didn't feel. "Promise, I'll stay in this dimension. No disappearing to other wards. Pinky swear." She offered up a pinky for emphasis.
Muli smirked. "Current symptoms?"
"I'm leaking like an old faucet. I'm coughing up green globs that look like Jabba the Hutt's firstborn, and the highlights of my day are doing remote support for Rift alerts and trying to remember what my husband's face looks like."
"Please, Gwen, don't hold back on my account." Muli dropped a few items on Gwen's workstation and began palpating her throat. "Lymph nodes are feeling better," she said, half under her breath, before making a note on her chart.
Gwen shook her head apologetically. "I'm sorry. I know it's not your fault. I'm just going mad down here. Do you think I'll be quarantined much longer?"
Muli whipped the stethoscope from around her neck, inserting the eartips. She replied in fits and starts as she listened to Gwen's chest. "I really wish I could tell you. We have so little information about this bacterium, and everyone has responded differently."
"Even the bloody pterodactyl is allowed outside!" Gwen protested, catching herself before stamping her foot. "Sorry," she said again. "I'm being childish."
Muli gave her an understanding pat on the shoulder. "You do have Violet." She raised a hand toward the indigo-skinned alien, letting hir know the use of hir human-friendly moniker was not a request for assistance. "Vy's not Rhys," she added, switching to the Tetrabrachian's nickname. "But at least you're not the only one stuck down here."
"I know. Poor dear." Gwen gazed fondly at Vy, quietly occupied at the coffee table ze'd appropriated as a workbench. When not modifying the transponder, ze'd become a master at anticipating their needs for food and drink. When Jack had asked how ze did it, Vy had replied that since ze couldn't understand English, ze focused on the sounds their bodies were making. It had led to a day or two of self-consciousness on everyone's part. Well, except for Jack, who'd frequently quizzed Vy on what a particular grumble or gurgle suggested. Then they all just got over it and appreciated the help. "I'm still a little surprised Jack has given hir liberty of the Hub," she added.
"Not his usual modus operandi?" Muli motioned to Gwen, who lifted both arms and flipped her wrists up.
"No, and completely in violation of Torchwood policy." They were both silent a moment as pulses were counted and compared. Muli let go, and Gwen folded her arms in her lap.
"I get the feeling that hasn't hindered him in the past," Muli said, making another note on her chart.
"I think he's making an effort to loosen up."
"If Jack gets any looser, he'll fall apart."
Both women laughed as Muli turned to the items she'd dropped, lifting a Vacutainer and waving it playfully at Gwen. Gwen offered up the arm with the good vein.
"Oh, I think he's still got some wiggle room, Megan. I mean, Vy's not doing data entry. Can you imagine how much headway we could make with four arms?"
She nodded, slipping in the needle effortlessly. "It's only because the mainframe doesn't have a Galactic Standard font."
Gwen started to laugh again but replaced it with a sneeze, followed by a cough for good measure. She made a miserable face. "This got old fast."
"It'll pass." Muli popped a plaster over the puncture wound and tucked the debris into the knee pocket of her trousers. Then she dropped into the chair at her workstation. "Just take good care of yourself and the little one." She waved at Gwen's stomach using the Vacutainer. "The rest will happen on its own," she said, raising a pinky.
"I'm trying. I really am. Vy's a big help. And so are you. It's such a relief to have a team doctor again." Gwen had also felt an immediate connection with Muli. Maybe because they'd already worked together on the case at St. Jude's. Maybe because she understood what it was like to be the new girl. Gwen sipped at her tea as Muli made a few more notes on the chart and labelled the blood sample.
Finally, Muli sighed, pulling the scarf off her head and scrubbing at her closely-cropped hair to fluff it back up. "I'll let you know when I feel half as competent as I should be."
"You'll know you're doing well when Jack flirts with you," she told her.
"Jack flirts with Vy."
"He flirts with anything on two legs, so four is probably like Christmas." Gwen snorted.
"I'm not sure that's making me feel better."
"Um, misery loves company?"
Muli shrugged, half-smiling, half-smirking. "I suppose so. It is going to be just the two of us on duty tonight, what with Jack and Ianto going on a date."
"Trying, at least. Seems like something always interrupts them."
"They are boyfriends, right?"
"It's hard to label them," Gwen replied, waving her tea cup for emphasis. "Why do you ask?"
"Well, if they've never been on an actual date, when have they had time to get to know each other? It seems like all they ever do is work. That doesn't leave much time for romance."
"Give it a few more weeks. You'll understand."
Muli made a noncommittal noise then leaned back in her chair, pulling a bottle of water out of one of her many pockets and taking a drink. "I hear they're going to that new nightclub that's moored at the quayside."
"Club Remedy." Gwen smothered a laugh. "Can you imagine? Ianto hovering over Jack's coat so no one spills anything on it. Jack trying to get the DJ to play Glenn Miller. They'll probably be looking for an excuse to leave before Ianto finishes his drink."
"At least it's age-appropriate for Ianto. He's too young to be so serious about his job."
Gwen nodded. "Who knows? Maybe the music will take its course, all those pheromones will cut loose, and Jack will get Ianto to loosen up."
Just as she was finishing, the door rolled open, and Ianto walked in. Gwen and Muli gaped in unison.
"What?" Ianto asked, peeling off his black denim jacket and tossing it on the coat rack. He twisted around and examined his rear end. A rear that had been squeezed into dangerously tight blue jeans. Worn thin in all the right places. As if he'd owned them for a very long time. Or spent a lot of money at an excessively trendy shop. "Did I sit on something?" He twisted in the other direction then shot them a confused look.
"Um, no," Gwen replied, attempting not to stammer. It wasn't as if she hadn't seen him in casual clothing before. But this wasn't the drab, practical gear he'd sported for the Brecon Beacons fiasco; this was the sort of wardrobe that invited hasty removal. She tapped her throat, indicating the patch of Ianto's chest bared by his open shirt. He was wearing a strand of chunky beads, and it drew attention to the dark tufts of hair curling around it.
"Oh, this?" He stepped closer, leaning in to show her as he lifted the strand from his throat. "Lisa made it."
"Oh."
He interrupted before she could say anything else. "He ready yet?" he asked, nodding at Jack's office. "Thank you, Vy," he added, raising the mug of tea Vy had placed in his hands. Gwen hadn't even noticed hir getting up. It would've been spooky if Ianto hadn't frequently done the same thing.
"You are well come," Vy replied, the accent flawless but with emphasis on the wrong syllables. Ze settled on the sofa cushion ze had placed on the floor, then returned hir attention to the transponder.
"He's been down there over half an hour, so I'd hope," Gwen said, and almost as if he'd been waiting for an introduction, Jack strutted out of his office. Gwen snorted. Muli bit her lip.
"No," Ianto said, shaking his head and rather pointedly setting his mug on a workstation before heading over to Jack. "Just, no."
Jack said nothing, smirking as he lifted his arms to allow Ianto to flip down his braces and yank the hem of his shirt from his jeans.
'The captain owns denims?' Muli mouthed at Gwen. Gwen shrugged, equally bewildered.
"And they say office relationships lead to one person being favoured over the others," Jack said, beaming as Ianto began unbuttoning his shirt.
"How's that?" Muli asked, even as Gwen tried to wave her off, knowing they were being baited.
"We go out, you two get the mental image of Ianto undressing me to keep you warm while we're gone."
"You spend so much time thinking of others, Jack, it's a wonder you get anything else done," Ianto replied sardonically. He stepped back, resting his chin in his hand. "Do you really intend to wear that shirt?"
"Not really," Jack said, removing it with a flourish. The tee he wore beneath was not the usual undershirt. This one was thick cotton, brilliantly white, and tight enough to show off his pectoral muscles.
Gwen wolf-whistled. Muli appeared unsure how to react, still new to Jack's 'sexual-harassment-as-team-building' approach. Vy seemed far more interested in the transponder. Jack said something cheeky-sounding in Galactic Standard, to which Vy replied, eyes still on hir work.
"What?" Ianto asked over his shoulder, carrying the superfluous clothing to Jack's office.
"Ze doesn't understand why we bother with clothes. I like how ze thinks."
"You would," Ianto muttered, returning with Jack's greatcoat. "Shall we? It's early enough that we could probably still get a table at-" An alert sounded from the computers, and they bolted for the workstations.
"Oh, no!" Gwen shouted, standing up and putting her arms out to block the men. "We've got it. You go."
"I know you do. I just want to know what it is," Jack protested. As he said it, he was stepping backwards so Ianto could help him into his greatcoat.
Gwen tapped at her keyboard. "Some kind of signal." Her eyes flicked back and forth, interpreting readouts. She paused long enough to explain one particular string to Muli. "Not Earth-based, so not our jurisdiction. Go."
"I think they're trying to get rid of us," Ianto stage-whispered. He leaned in, reading over Gwen's shoulder.
"Maybe they have plans of their own," Jack said, all teeth and flashing eyes. "That, um, CCTV diagnostic finished?" he asked with a nudge that translated from Jack-to-English as 'make sure you copy anything good to my computer.'
"Boys!" Gwen snapped. "Out!" She pointed to the invisible lift. "Date!"
"Well, that's us told," Ianto said, and Jack smirked in agreement. He touched his fingertips to the small of Ianto's back, escorting him to the paving stone. After Ianto stepped on, Jack whirled into place at his side, coattails adding the requisite flourish.
"We're available if-"
Muli had finally had enough. "Are you trying to get out of being alone together?" They looked at each other, shaking their heads, apparently perplexed. She jumped out of her chair and joined them at the base of the Rift fountain. "Which button?" she asked, pointing to the control stand.
"This one," Jack replied, flipping open his vortex manipulator. A second later, the lift jerked to life.
"That's better," she said, folding her arms over her chest.
"It's a distress call," Gwen sighed from her computer. Muli turned in unison with the two men.
"From Vy's people?" Jack was already reopening his strap.
"Doesn't match," Gwen said, sounding rather distracted. "But it's not..." She paused, looking up. "It's a repeating loop, but the translation matrix is having problems parsing it."
"Not recognised?" Jack leaned over as the lift continued to rise, one finger poised to interrupt their departure.
"No, an error. I've never quite got the hang of this thing." She started typing again, trying a different command.
"Did you-" Ianto began.
"No. Go!" Gwen shouted back. "I'm sorting it." Text rolled past the screen this time, but it was illegible. She added a switch to the command and hit enter, then looked up to check the lift's progress to the Plass. It had stopped. "Jack, honestly!"
"It'll only take a minute," he replied. He punched in another code, and it began to lower. "Like you said, it's off-world. We'll just help with that, and then we'll go. There's plenty of time." Ianto's eyes met Jack's, and they nodded agreement.
Gwen bolted from her chair. "I know you're tetchy about leaving while the rest of us are working, but I promise you, I will call if we really need you." Her lips curled into a smile. "Or, more importantly, if anything fun happens."
"Does that count as fun?" Ianto pointed behind her. She spun around just in time to see something materialising outside Jack's office. It was an ovoid form of a particularly unattractive shade of opaque brown. As soon as the materialisation appeared to be complete, two things happened: the internal alarms in the Hub began to wail, and the form shivered. As quickly as it had materialised, it collapsed into a pancake of goo about the size of a tyre.
Muli immediately ran for the medical bay, returning a split-second later wearing her respirator mask and bearing the Bekaran scanner. She'd grown a bit fonder of it after Jack had initiated a training protocol that involved having her demonstrate how the various equipment worked by using it on herself.
"No lockdown this time, Doc," Jack chuckled as the lift shuddered to a stop. "That's just an alert letting us know that our defences have been breached."
"Then go!" Gwen replied, shooing them with one hand as she disabled the alarm with the other. Muli shucked her mask then aimed the scanner at the thing on the floor.
"Are you kidding?" Jack asked. "And miss first contact?"
Ianto paused mid-stride, one foot still on the lift. "Are you sure this is first contact? Perhaps we should be getting a mop?" He gestured to Vy, putting two fists on top of one another and waving them side to side in what was apparently universal butler sign language for 'mop.' Vy nodded once and stood up.
"No, wait!" Jack put out a hand, stopping hir. Vy looked confused. Ianto looked annoyed. "It's moving." Everyone's eyes returned to the mass. It was shifting, trying to reshape itself. It also appeared to have two distinct viscosities, one quite firm and substantive, the other a ring of thin liquid at its circumference, making it look like a rather unwholesome egg. "I could be wrong," Jack continued, stepping closer and pointing to the ring, "but I think this is... Gwen, did we respond to the hail?"
"Yes," she replied. "But just a generic 'Hi, you've reached Torchwood. We're unable to take your call.' I'm going to send something more specific once I get a translation."
"Oh, baby." Jack grinned. He flicked his coattails out of the way and knelt by the creature. "Whatever this is, it uses micturition."
"What?" Muli asked, looking to Ianto for an answer. He shrugged.
"Micturition. They speak through fluid exchange." He leaned forward, pressing his lips to the surface of the thinner liquid, and began to speak strangely, each word plosive and breathy.
"Sometimes, it's just too easy to bother making a joke." Ianto sighed. He slipped off his jacket and joined Jack beside their surprise guest. "So, are you two going to snog or get into a pissing contest?"
"If humans could actually think into a liquid stream, absolutely, that would be perfect, however-"
"Scanner shows something's materialising inside it!" Muli interrupted, her voice raising in alarm.
"That's what I was hoping for," Jack replied. A moment later, the creature extruded a sphere about four centimetres in diameter. Once it reached the surface, it seemed to float there, begging to be picked up. Without waiting to see if Jack was actually going to do so, Ianto put an arm out to stop him.
"It's okay. I know exactly what this is," Jack replied, almost fondly. "Haven't seen one in decades," he added, still grinning as he plucked it from the gooey surface. "But..." With a flick of his wrist, it illuminated on one side, and he began speaking to that hemisphere. After a quick pass through the alphabet and a nursery rhyme, he proceeded to introduce himself, then he placed it back on the surface of the alien, bright side down. The light dimmed slowly, and the alien melted beneath it. A moment later, the dark half brightened, and Jack held the sphere up to his temple.
"What?" Ianto leaned closer, eyes widening in fascination.
"Translator," Jack replied, so distracted by what he was hearing that he didn't seem to notice the viscous fluid leaking down his fingers. Ianto dug out a handkerchief and dangled it on a fingertip, waiting patiently, until Jack laughed like a little kid. He opened his eyes, staring at the sphere with unchecked amazement before sobering up.
"Well, it was definitely a distress call," he said, grabbing the handkerchief and wiping himself clean. He handed the square back to Ianto and turned.
"Confirmed," Gwen replied. "I got the translation matrix sorted, and I've identified the species. It's the... kwah... ah..." She frowned and pointed to her monitor. "That!"
The rest of the team gathered around, looking where her finger rested.
Qaa'aa'ajaa'aaa
Jack attempted to sound it out. "Kah... ah... aga..." As he did so, it appeared to be jogging his memory, because he turned his head, examining the creature on the floor like he'd never seen it before. Before he could make another pronunciation attempt, Vy began to wave all four of hir arms excitedly.
Once everyone was looking at hir, ze exclaimed, "Qaa'aa'ajaa'aaa!"
Something in the way ze said it led Jack to exclaim, "Yes! I should have recognised it sooner. We studied them at the Time Agency."
"Time Agency?" Muli asked.
Gwen waved her off as Jack ran back to their alien intruder. He settled cross-legged on the floor next to it, snatched up the sphere, and began talking into it again. "Torchwood sends greetings to your aggregate. What is the source of your distress?"
As Jack waited for the alien to respond, Ianto took up a post at Tosh's old workstation, typing furiously. "Spelling?" he asked Gwen, and she read off the string of characters to him.
"No organs," Muli said, still carefully scanning their visitor. "Not even a circulatory system or brain, at least as I know it. It's just a blob."
Jack glowered at her, returning the sphere to his temple.
"What's wrong?" she asked, backing away.
"Their ship has been invaded." He'd already put the sphere back on the puddle and was bouncing impatiently while the light shifted sides.
"The Qaa... aj..." Ianto said, breaking the brief silence. "The Gooliens are researchers. They go from planet to planet, studying life forms without interacting."
"Signal source is a ship in geosynchronous orbit. Why didn't we get an alert?" Gwen asked no one in particular. "Even the Siiu Anto Mala left traces."
Ianto answered, reading from his screen, "The Goolien ships have an incredibly sophisticated camouflage system. They can mimic just about anything, including debris, to avoid detection." He paused to scroll down. "They are also incredibly private."
"So why is one in the Hub?" Muli asked.
Jack replied, translation sphere in hand. "Two days ago," he snarled, "something from Earth got sucked up to their ship. And now it's attacking them."
"Attacking?" Gwen asked, glancing at the Goolien. "How do you attack jelly?"
Jack was silent, literally absorbing more information as the pace of the back and forth communication increased. "You eat it," he said, sounding sick. "The Big Gun." He turned to Ianto. "Get it."
"Yes, sir." Ianto nodded, abandoning his workstation.
"Jack, are we loaning them the gun for defence?" Gwen asked. "Because, if so, I'm not sure that they can shoot it. Aside from the fact it's bigger than they are, the profile also indicates they aren't able to manipulate tools or clutch anything other than small objects."
"Gimme a minute," he replied, extending a palm into the air at his side. "Repeat that description," he said to the alien. Everyone watched while the sphere reloaded. Jack groaned as he listened to the answer.
"Well?" Muli asked, shutting off the scanner.
"Rats." Jack let out a dry, bitter laugh.
"Excuse me?"
"Rats," he repeated. "They're infested with them. And they've just asked us to board their ship to help get rid of 'em."
Ianto bounded back into the work area despite being laden with what looked like a bloated guitar case. "I'll just nip off to Tesco for some rat poison then, shall I?"
"Hold up," Muli interjected. "How do we know rat poison won't poison the Gooliens?"
"The what?" Jack looked at Ianto, who raised both brows and shrugged.
"So, when do we go?" Gwen asked, spinning away from her keyboard with a mad grin on her face.
"Tesco?" Ianto left one brow up, telegraphing his confusion.
"No, the ship, silly!" Gwen replied with a laugh.
"Absolutely out of the question!" Muli snapped.
"But..."
"Wait, wait!" Jack waved his arms, stopping the chatter and focusing on Muli. "We're going. We've responded to the SOS, so we're duty-bound to provide whatever assistance we can."
"I'm not suggesting we shouldn't help, Captain, but why not beam something helpful up to them instead of putting the team at risk?"
"We're dealing with a translation. I don't know how accurate it is. We can put together half a plan and hope it works, or we can do some recon and fix it the first time."
Chastened, she nodded.
"Use the information you got from the scanner. See if you're right about the poison. That'll limit our options. Gwen, start researching alternatives, especially ones that are portable. Ianto, with me. We'll go up to the ship to see how bad this infestation is."
Ianto nodded, but he'd only barely put down the gun case when Dr. Muli interrupted again. "Also absolutely out of the question."
"But I'm not..." Ianto protested, hedging his bets by pointing to his stomach instead of saying it aloud.
Gwen glowered at him anyhow. "Just because I'm pregnant-"
"Xanther crosses species. You're still under quarantine," Muli broke in.
"Two pairs of eyes, Doc. We'll get a plan together faster. And that way we can still have that date." Jack waved Ianto over next to him. "We need to crouch down. Their ships have low ceilings." Ianto started to settle beside him.
"This is reckless and irresponsible!" Muli said.
Jack, who had just lifted the sphere to his lips, looked over it at her and replied icily, "Noted."
She wasn't deterred. "Do you have any idea if their transportation system is compatible with human physiology?"
Ianto looked over at him expectantly, and Jack's face paled the slightest bit. He seemed to be at a loss for words.
"You don't," Gwen said, half a statement, half a question.
"I don't understand why you would ask your boyf- your team to go into a situation without being aware of the risks."
Jack cleared his throat. "They've been studying us. It goes against Qaa'aa'ajaa'aaa philosophy to put us in danger. It's my job to know that, and your job to patch us up if something goes wrong."
Muli swallowed hard, but she didn't back down. "All I'm suggesting is that you don't endanger two team members unless it's absolutely necessary. Yes, the aliens are in a crisis situation, but it's a rodent infestation. That doesn't strike me as life-or-death." She appeared to be holding her breath as she awaited his response.
Jack looked between Ianto and Gwen. Ianto's face bore the calm expression that said he'd go along with whatever Jack decided. Gwen nodded, knowing her agreement wasn't always a given.
Jack weighed the sphere in his palm for a moment, then clasped it and raised it back to his lips. "One human to investigate." He put the sphere back down on the alien. "Ianto, help Gwen."
Ianto stood up and finger-pressed the collar of Jack's greatcoat, lingering a bit longer than necessary before returning to Tosh's workstation.
"Thank you, Captain," Muli said.
Jack stared at her for an uncomfortably long time, the silence heavy between them. Then he blinked, sat down next to the alien, and flattened a palm on the surface of its skin. He inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, and within seconds, began to dissolve.
Ianto stared, eyes wide. Muli gasped, crossing herself. Gwen turned back to her workstation and said, "Right then. Rodent control."
Dr. Muli leaned over the metal table in the med bay and exhaled slowly. If St. Jude's had been a fresh start, then Torchwood was practically a new identity. Yet she'd been harping on Captain Harkness like he was some kind of duffer, and she could no longer blame it on Xanther Syndrome. Something about him just rubbed her the wrong way. He hadn't turned out to be the militaristic prat she'd been expecting. On the contrary, his methods were anything but regimented. So why did his loose management style grate on her even more? It didn't matter. Torchwood was her chance to get it right: defend her methods, find solutions without being hobbled by politics and protocols. She might never be able to publish her work, but she'd mentally cock a snook at the WHO with every little victory. That was worth learning to deal with the man's quirks.
"Okay," she said, straightening up and staring at the subway tiles lining the walls, counting them off in Swahili - moja, mbili, tatu, nne, tano - as her grandmother had taught her. Visions of their home, a riot of colour and comfort, flooded her mind, and the adrenalin began to dissipate. "He hasn't fired you. Do your job before you give him a reason to change his mind." She pulled the stool over with the toe of her trainer and dropped onto it. "Or erase yours," she added with a shudder.
Sidling up to the table, she grabbed the Cleverness Guide and flipped to the back. The encyclopaedia of all things alien had become her favourite reading material, when she actually had a moment to read, but she'd gotten nowhere near the letter "Q." This time, she flipped straight to the section on the Gooliens, put the scanner on the spine to hold the pages open, then logged in to the Torchwood mainframe.
"So," she said, glancing at the book, "how do you absorb substances and which ones are deadly to you?"
"Google, huh?" Ianto asked Gwen, leaning away from the computer.
"Trade secret," she replied, then laughed at herself. "Dirty secret, more like. It's frightening how much I've found with it, even as a copper."
"Whatever works," he said, shrugging and returning his attention to his own screen.
"So what are you doing?" she asked, no longer looking at him, either. The sound of clicking keys filled the space around trickles of water and the hum of equipment fans.
"Digging into the archives for the source of Torchwood's proprietary rat elimination technology." He chewed on the words with a sort of relish.
"Elimination?" she asked, alarmed enough to stop typing. "Who said anything about killing?"
"They're eating the Gooliens. I think we might be past having them round for tea." He immediately shook his head at Vy. Vy offered a four-armed shrug, then turned to Gwen, giving her the Tetrabrachian equivalent of a smile.
"No, dear," Gwen said, also shaking her head. "Thank you." Vy shrugged again.
Gwen looked back to Ianto, hands now folded in her lap. "I wasn't suggesting we make friends, but there's no reason to kill them. They're trapped in a spaceship and need food. That makes them desperate, not dangerous."
Ianto didn't look convinced. "Feral rats carry disease."
"The Plague? That was fleas."
He shook his head and counted off on his fingers as he said, "Hantavirus, murine typhus, rat-bite fever, salmonella, leptospirosis, a variant of meningitis-"
"Okay, I get it," she interrupted, raising her hands in surrender.
"Possessed by Owen for a moment." He smirked in lieu of an apology.
Gwen laughed again, returning to her search. "Why rats? Did you grow up in the country?"
"The Hub's infested with them."
"I've never seen so much as one."
"That's because I do my job well," he replied, stabbing a key with his index finger. He flashed her a grin.
"You..." She glanced around the Hub. "You do that?"
"Should've seen what this place was like before you joined up, especially the way they left rubbish everywhere. Even the cat was intimidated by our thriving rat population."
"Cat? We had a cat? What happened to it?" She felt the blood draining from her face. "Oh, God, not the rats!"
"No. She just disappeared." He said this last bit fondly, as if he didn't quite mourn her absence.
Suddenly, Gwen had visions of tufts of cat fur in the eyrie, a belled collar in tatters... "Myfanwy?"
"Myfanwy learnt the hard way not to tangle with her. Still has a scar on her beak. I believe having a pterodactyl competing for attention was too much. Jack spotted her catting about near the docks."
Gwen pursed her lips, holding back a smile. She followed another link from her search results, then sat up straight. "Oh, hey, this is an interesting no-kill option."
Ianto didn't even blink, the blue background of his monitor casting shadows on his face. "Glue traps are pretty horrid, actually."
"Not glue traps." She pasted the link into an IM session.
Ianto followed the URL and raised an eyebrow. "You have my undivided attention."
She dragged her chair next to his, propping her chin on his shoulder. She liked how he no longer stiffened when she did it. It wasn't exactly a bear hug, but it was progress. "No one around here sells them, though," she added, disappointed.
He scrolled down the page, eyes darting back and forth as he reviewed the specs. "I could probably rig one up with equipment we have to hand."
"Really?"
He gave her a wink, knocking her skull with his in a gesture that might have been affectionate. "I've been told I'm good at improvising."
"Where's Jack?" Muli called. Gwen watched her reflection in the monitor as the doctor climbed up from the medical bay. She was making notes in the margins of the Cleverness Guide as she walked, paying no attention to the space around her.
"Still on the ship," Ianto replied, nodding to where Jack had dematerialised.
"Really?"
Ianto continued typing. "No. Sorry. You caught us. I've locked him in the cells with Janet. It's Friday. We always mutiny on Friday. Tradition."
Muli looked up at last. "Should I have dressed smarter?" she asked, pointing to her clothes.
Gwen glanced over her shoulder as she replied, "Mutiny is casual. We save the formal gear for end of the world scenarios." Furtively, she swapped to the program monitoring the orbiting ship. Still there, still in one piece. She exhaled. The only thing she liked less than being forced to listen to a mission on comms was having no comms at all.
"So why does Ianto wear a waistcoat and tie every day?" Muli asked, clapping the book shut and tucking it under her arm.
The noise seemed to break Ianto's concentration enough that he spun in his chair to face them both. "Because, when you work for Torchwood, every day is quite possibly the end of the world as we know it."
"Except Friday," Gwen added cheerily.
"Except Friday," he agreed, nodding in her direction. He slouched down a bit, long legs sprawling and underlining his uncharacteristic dress. "And Third Thursdays."
Muli dropped into her chair, letting the book and other items she was carrying tumble onto the surface of her workstation. She leaned forward, elbows on knees. "What are Third Thursdays?"
Ianto cleared his throat. "On the third Thursday of each month, we run disaster recovery tests and see how we do."
"And how have we done?"
"No idea," he told her with a shrug. "So far, there's been a disaster every time we've scheduled a test." Gwen gave a commiserating laugh as he finished.
Muli didn't seem to get it. "So the DR plan works, then?"
Gwen waved a hand. "Provided the Hub doesn't get destroyed."
The doctor glanced around the lofty ceilings; the Victorian décor spoke of age and permanence despite the generally rundown appearance. "What would happen if the Hub got destroyed?"
"That's what Ianto's trying to document with the tests so we can get the Crown to cough up for another work site."
"You mean there's nowhere else to go?" she asked, eyes widening.
"There used to be four Torchwood locations in the United Kingdom," Ianto replied, but he was no longer looking at them. He swallowed once, very precisely. Too precisely.
"Used to be?"
Gwen jumped in, sparing him the explanation. "Now there's just us and Two, but Two-"
"Is really not the best place to go in the event of a disaster." Ianto smirked, quickly regaining a foothold.
"But it's still operational?" Muli looked increasingly confused, eyes darting back and forth between Gwen and Ianto's rapid-fire exchange. Gwen empathised. She still felt like she was catching up, and she had two years of experience to her advantage.
"Operational is a generous choice of words," Ianto mumbled, thoroughly examining a thumbnail before deciding to straighten it with his teeth.
Gwen snorted, causing Vy to look up. Ze glanced around for a second before realising the noise wasn't important to hir. Hir eyes lingered on Gwen, and Gwen returned a quick smile. It was flattering hosting an alien with a crush on you. When it wasn't incredibly awkward.
"So," Ianto continued, "that's why we're trying to get a hotsite."
"What's our current backup plan?" Muli asked, and her eyes narrowed. At first Gwen thought she was showing concern, then realised her gaze was squarely on Ianto's throat. Is that a love bite? The two women exchanged a look.
"Don't let the Hub get destroyed," Ianto was saying, still giving himself an ad hoc manicure.
Muli's eyes boggled slightly. "And Jack... Oh, never mind." She pointed towards the roof of the Hub. "Speaking of, provided there were no surprises with the transport system, he, or any other human, should be safe on the ship. The..." she paused, made another attempt to use their proper name, mangled it, then relented. "The Goolien ships have a pressurised environment, lower than ours but compatible. Similar atmosphere. CO2 levels are high enough to give Al Gore an aneurysm, but I've been in office buildings that are worse. The one problem I can see is the lower oxygen levels, but so long as you're not gone more than..." She checked her watch, and her expression shifted to concern. "He really should have had supplemental oxygen if he was going to stay away this long."
"What's the risk?" Gwen asked, glad to be off the subject of Torchwood's failings. Jack's derring-do usually had fewer consequences.
Muli thought for a moment, hand on her chin, which she then pulled away to demonstrate. "It'll be like getting dropped off at the top of Kilimanjaro without having had any time to acclimate." She swooped her hand up an imaginary slope, then underlined her point by clutching her throat, as if gasping for air.
"Altitude sickness, then?"
"Yes." She bobbed her head once. "Dizziness, fainting, weakness and malaise, impaired judgement, cyanosis, headaches. Classic signs of diffuse cerebral hypoxia."
Almost the same moment as she finished describing the symptoms, Jack began to materialise in a crouch on the floor. As soon as he became solid, he gasped - not quite as desperately as when he resurrected, but close enough for discomfort. Then he collapsed to his side, looking like he was willing to pass out but hadn't found a convenient break in his schedule.
"Much," Muli said, plucking an oxygen tank from the items she'd dropped on her workstation, "like that."
She went to Jack and immediately pressed the mask to his mouth. He clung to it, and in the space of just a few deep breaths, began to relax, his skin returning to its normal colour.
"Better?" She removed the mask. He nodded. "Keep it," she added, tapping the tank against his chest. "You'll need it when you go back."
"How was the transport?" Ianto crouched at Jack's side.
"Smooth," Jack replied, a huge grin plastered across his face. "At least, as smooth as it ever is when your body is disassembled and put back together again." He put out a hand, and Ianto hauled him up. Jack stumbled a little until he got his legs under him, but Ianto caught him, which only made Jack's grin broaden. Ianto rolled his eyes, spreading his palm on Jack's chest and pushing him down to the sofa.
"You shouldn't have stayed so long, Captain," Muli scolded, but in a gentler tone than she'd used before he'd left. "Even with the difference in oxygen concentration, you have a fair amount of time before it becomes problematic, and there are a few simple steps you can take to prolong time of-"
"TUC was about ten minutes, but it was bad up there." He waved off her concern like a cloud of flies. "I needed to stay."
"How bad?" Ianto asked, his hands on his hips. Gwen noted, with some amusement, that he flicked an invisible suit jacket out of the way before they came to rest. Jack gave him a dark look but said nothing, which seemed to be a sufficient answer. "Coffee, then?" Jack nodded enthusiastically.
Ianto took Vy and headed over to the coffee machine while Jack leaned back, sighing something about gravity as he sunk deeper into the battered cushions. He took a few long, slow breaths before he spoke again. "They're infested. The rats have adapted to space, no problem. Whether that's Darwin or the Rift energy all over them, I don't know. Gwen, have we had any negative spikes in the last 72 hours?"
"What's a negative spike?" Muli asked. Gwen remained silent, tensing as she anticipated Jack's answer. She forced herself to stay focused on her screen as she tabbed over to the Rift reports.
Jack hesitated, but only barely. "The night at the hospital, the girl-"
"The trifurcated young woman. Sian?" Muli interrupted.
Jack nodded. "The Rift doesn't just drop things here. Sometimes it takes them, changes them."
Gwen absently tidied a stack of papers on her workstation, trying not to feel jealous as Jack skated over the details with Muli. No mention of Flat Holm, but it was more than he'd given her when she'd first asked. They'd both learnt from their mistakes, but that didn't make the sting any less painful.
"Jack, down by the docks," Gwen interrupted, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. She lowered her volume a bit. "Small enough that it almost didn't register."
"Well, it must've hit a nest."
"What do we do for negative spikes?" Muli asked, cocking her head to the side in deep fascination. Gwen could see the cogs of her brain turning, no doubt wondering about what other effects the Rift had on living victims.
"Nothing," she replied grimly, not waiting for Jack to offer up a typically vague answer. "There's nothing we can do. We can't predict them. We can't stop them. We can only clean up afterwards." She glanced at him, and he looked down at the floor.
Muli nodded and inhaled, about to speak again, but Jack beat her to the mark. "There're some files you should read, but that's not a priority. Right now, we've got an alien ship infested with rats. What are we going to do about it?"
Surprisingly, Muli stopped pushing, some of the wind having gone out of her sails. "The aliens ingest through simple contact. Based on their biological composition, it's likely that all the commercially available poisons are as toxic to them as to the rats. If there's a way you can isolate the poison to someplace the rats would be but not the crew-"
"Not possible." Jack insistently shook his head. "The rats don't appear to be interested in going anywhere else."
Gwen rotated her chair slowly, facing them again. "And the crew can't shoo them off?"
"They're not equipped to shoo," Jack replied, his laugh hollow.
"When I was looking for options," she continued, "I found an interesting one that involves sound. High frequency sonic waves. It drives the rats away."
Jack looked interested. "Is it audible to the Qaa'aa'ajaa'aaa?"
"No," Ianto said, returning with a tray of hot beverages. "Gwen already sent me the specs, and I've been searching inventory to see if we can make a functioning unit."
"And?" Jack accepted his blue-striped mug, sliding over to make room for Ianto on the sofa's remaining cushion.
"We have what we need," he said, handing the tray off to Vy, who disappeared with it as Ianto sat down.
"How long to make it happen?"
Ianto blew on the surface of his coffee, steam curling in front of his face as he worked on an answer. "Half an hour," he said, squinting in thought. "Providing the tech I'm thinking of is actually where it's supposed to be and is still in working order."
Jack took a gulp from his mug. "Right, so, we upset the rats, then what?" He plopped the mug down on the coffee table, then moved the transponder out of harm's way and grabbed a sheaf of old printouts. A moment later, he'd sketched a rough layout of the ship. "This is what we're working with. How do we trap them?" Muli and Gwen pulled their chairs closer. "Hey, Vy," he yelled across the Hub, and ze appeared from behind the fountain. Jack switched to Galactic Standard, and Vy clasped one pair of hands, the other pair beginning to wave about excitedly.
"What is it?" Gwen asked.
"They're willing to take Vy on to the nearest trading hub if we can help them. Ze'll have to fly with them for a few weeks while they finish their research here, but that'll get hir out of range of the Rift and stop blocking the transponder signal. Increase hir chance of rescue."
"And what did ze say?"
"What do you think?" Jack replied, winking over the brim of his cup.
"Damn," Ianto said, "and ze was just learning not to burn the coffee beans."
An hour later, plan in place, gear assembled, Jack and Ianto were on the sofa, impatient for the Qaa'aa'ajaa'aaa ambassador to pick them up.
"So what do I need to know?" Ianto asked, knee bouncing. "About..." he gestured upward, making a fizzling noise.
Jack placed a hand on his knee, stilling it with a knowing grin. "It's probably better not having too much information. Just stay relaxed, and when we get there, remember to breathe."
Ianto tilted the little oxygen tank back and forth, redirecting the nervous energy to the canister. "I feel bad for Gwen," he continued, sotto voce. "She's the more experienced field agent. She's been on a spaceship, although it wasn't actually in space. She's got to be disappointed having to stay behind this time."
"I would never have let her go," Jack replied, shaking his head.
Ianto looked startled. "Why? With supplemental oxygen, we should be fine." The unspoken need for reassurance hung ever so slightly in his voice. Jack almost felt bad about not being able to give it.
"It really does take you apart, molecule by molecule. It's almost foolproof, but..." He shrugged. He didn't realise he'd placed a hand over his stomach until he felt it there. "I'm not taking the chance. One transmat trip was enough."
"Wish we could at least bring her a souvenir."
"I didn't notice a gift shop, but we could always double-check."
Ianto opened his mouth for what was no doubt a snarky retort, but shut it when they noticed the distinctive glimmer of the alien returning to the Hub. "I suppose that's our ride."
He started to stand up, but Jack grabbed his arm, tugging him down until his ear was level with his lips. "Wanna join the 22,000 Mile High Club?"
"I don't know," Ianto leaned in, the sibilant 'ess' tickling the hairs on the nape of Jack's neck, "do you have enough thrust?"
Jack beamed as they headed over to their escort. Gwen, on the other hand, paced nervously beside her workstation.
"We'll be fine," he reassured her, resting a hand on her shoulder.
"I know, I..." She bit her lip, cutting herself off before glancing nervously at Ianto.
"With a dashing hero like me on the case-"
"-what could possibly go wrong?" she finished.
"Hold down the fort while we're gone," he said, sliding his palm around her neck, thumb rubbing her cheek. "I'm counting on you."
She nodded, swallowed hard, and stepped back, forcing a smile onto her face. "Go, you two, and try not to cause an intergalactic incident!"
"Ma'am!" Jack said brusquely, snapping to attention and saluting. "The rats won't know what hit 'em, ma'am!" He didn't need to look to know that both she and Ianto were rolling their eyes, so instead, he dropped down next to the alien, opposite Ianto. "Ready?" he asked, and Ianto nodded.
His hand shook slightly before touching the alien's skin. Jack lifted the sphere, gave his own 'ready,' then settled his hand beside Ianto's. A second later, the transport device activated, and Ianto's eyes widened.
Light flooded around them, splitting their bodies into cells, cells into molecules, molecules into atoms, until all that was left was a soup of protons and electrons that was sucked into space along a nuclear filament.
They re-materialised side by side on a transport platform, in a tunnel barely large enough for them to sit up. Jack was sure of this because the first thing he'd done on both trips was whack the back of his skull on the darkened ceiling. He took a deep breath, growling and shaking his head. Somehow, that always felt better than sitting quietly while transport side-effects let up. He grabbed the torch in his pocket and flicked it on, beaming it past the Qaa'aa'ajaa'aaa and onto Ianto.
Ianto lay crumpled on his side, covering his mouth and dry heaving into the crook of his elbow. His face was flushed bright red, eyes watering and almost bulging from their sockets. Otherwise, he looked fine. All the right bits were in the right places, at least the ones that Jack could see. He flicked off the torch so their eyes could adjust.
"Hey!" He leaned over and slapped Ianto on the back to distract him. "Breathe through it. It'll pass."
Ianto made a gagging noise that only vaguely resembled a word. At that signal, their Qaa'aa'ajaa'aaa escort began to slither away. Returning to the ship had allowed it to transform from a gravity-flattened pancake into a somewhat misshapen orb. It also seemed to glow from within, an effect that wasn't visible in the brighter lights of the Hub. Its thin skin bubbled over the lip of the platform, gripping the tunnel's textured surface to pull itself forward.
Ianto coughed again, wiping his eyes on his sleeve, then attempted to sit up.
"Watch your-" The wall made a dull ringing noise when it was introduced to the top of Ianto's skull. "Head."
Ianto glowered, wincing as he rubbed the spot. He continued to breathe with unnatural precision, as if he were struggling to keep the contents of his stomach from paying a return visit.
"Here," Jack offered him an empty plastic carrier bag. "Just in case." Ianto looked even more put out. "Believe me, it beats contributing to the ambiance." He directed Ianto's attention to the air around them.
The Remains of the Date: Part Two