Mitchell watched as Marley
secured the tape to the bandage around his left hand. She worked quietly but he could hear her
thoughts.
‘You know I would never hurt you.’ He said sincerely as Marley began packing
away the First Aid kit, each portion of tape, scissors and gauze neatly placed
back in the box.
‘I know.’
Marley replied, her fingers clasped around the handle of the box that
she drew towards her. ‘I have nothing
you want.’ She returned the kit to the space
above the top cupboard in the kitchen, turning she lingered in the open doorway. He watched her, felt her words in his head,
the doubt. Marley turned to face
him. ‘But you killed a man, how do I
know you wouldn’t do that again?’
‘You don’t, but I know I would never hurt
you?’
‘But what if I hurt you?’
‘But you wouldn’t.’
‘You don’t know that. Something could happen, we could be partnered
up, you could just snap.’
‘I won’t.’
Mitchell replied rubbing his thumb over the bandaged wound. ‘Look I know I did wrong, not a day goes by
that I don’t regret it. But we shared
something.’
‘Did you share something with him? I did
some digging and...’ He felt her
tension, her faltering decisions of whether to tell him what she’d
discovered. He moistened his lips and
took a step towards her, as Marley took a step back. He stopped.
She was scared of him, she didn’t need to say a word, Clark had already sown
the seed to place doubt in her mind. It
didn’t matter what they’d shared in the bathroom, that moment of fumbling, sex,
not the best thing he could have done, now sullied even more by the fact she
didn’t trust him.
Mitchell sighed, took a step back and went
up to the roof.
It was cold on the flat roof, the wind
buffeted the ledge pushing his hair back as if he were staring into a wind
machine. He squinted against the sharp icy
blast cutting in from the Atlantic and shivered.
He rubbed his sore hand and already felt
the skin pull tight and the scab begin to form.
The R.A.T. was in pieces, the information safely stored in the safe in
Jack’s office that Gwen had insisted he’d turned away from as she put in the
code. He’d found himself smiling as she
read out the sequence of digits in her head.
But his thoughts came back to Marley.
It didn’t matter to him that he’d hurt Jack’s feelings, it didn’t bother
him that Gwen couldn’t keep a secret when he was around, it didn’t bother him
either that Clark didn’t like him much, but Marley...she was different. She was lost, from another time, another
dimension and he’d found her to be the one person whom he could confide in till
now. Now it wouldn’t matter if he
spilled his guts to her, she would never trust him, and that hurt more than the
abuse he received at the hands of the man he’d killed, hurt more than the
beatings he’d received from Shepperton’s thugs, hurt more than the rejection
from Lexie or knowing that his Uncle was a wolf. He’d found a friend in Marley and thanks to
Clark, had driven a wedge right through the middle of it.
‘Penny for them?’ Gwen’s voice and her soft perfume brought
Mitchell back to earth with a clatter. Gwen’s
whipped up behind her like a cape caught in a hurricane. She turned her body at an angle and rested
her elbow on the ledge.
‘She’s scared of me.’
Gwen sighed. ‘You still have feelings for her?’ She turned her back on the wind and felt
relief and warmth returning to her cheeks.
‘Please, no lectures.’ Mitchell turned his back on the world also
and sat squat on the ground cutting the wind chill from his bones. Gwen joined him. She rubbed her hands to generate heat into
them.
‘Love is a complicated thing, that doesn’t
help when you throw another into the mix. Affairs can get messy. But you love Jack yeah?’ She asked gazing into his deep blue eyes and
for a moment felt lost in them, her thoughts only on him. He turned away and she knew in an instant
he’d read her thoughts. She cleared her
throat.
‘I hadn’t set out to hurt Jack, it hadn’t
been on my agenda to seduce Marley, that just kinda happened. And I should feel regret...but I don’t.’ Mitchell inhaled deeply and sighed. ‘Life made sense back in London. Just me and Wolf, that’s all I needed. Then I had to go and steal a card.’ He shook his head, and lowered his gaze
‘I believe in fate, and that everything
happens for a reason. And I believe that
you were meant to come here.’ Gwen
studied his features, his five o’clock shadow that was steadily creeping
towards desperately needing a shave. ‘Jack
told me once that he was on Earth for a reason, that the things that happened
to him, and why he was here was for a reason he was yet to find out, and I
suppose part of that is to protect the Earth, being with Torchwood you’re the
last line of defence. So, if Jack
brought you here, he must know your potential, must know your value to the
team...’
‘No.’
Mitchell interrupted and turned his head towards her. ‘That’s not the reason, whether it’s fate or
not, I pose a risk to the human race, and the only reason I’m here at all is
because of some stupid promise he gave my dad, that he would keep me safe. Except I don’t believe that.’ He growled, a darkness slipping over his
handsome features.
‘Why not?’
Gwen asked, her eyes narrowing.
Ledge dust and lichen weed fell from the block behind her, and dusted
her shoulder like a bad case of dandruff.
She casually brushed it off.
‘Because I know it’s not the truth.’ He inhaled deeply and leant back against the
wall and stared across at the open door that led back downstairs to the warmth
of the offices. His Adam’s apple bobbed
as he swallowed and Gwen felt mesmerised by his beauty and really had to stop
herself. There was something about
Mitchell that made her want to commit to him, in more ways than one
Mitchell caught her thinking and
smiled. Gwen blushed.
‘Oh God you knew what I was thinking.’
He grinned. ‘I can’t help it. You think so loudly. Not like Jack. He plays everything close to his chest,
except when he thinks I’m not listening.
Every now and then I hear him as he looks at me, speaking like a mantra, ‘Please God don’t let him change as I can’t
go through this again. Please don’t make me regret this’...then there’s a bunch
of other stuff...’ Mitchell drew up his
knees and hugged them, blinking back tears that he refused to accept.
Gwen put her hand on his shoulder and
smiled sympathetically, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze.
‘Jack has lived so many lives and lost so
many people over the years. I suppose
he’s just...hoping...I’m sure it doesn’t mean anything. And you shouldn’t listen in on people’s thoughts.’
Mitchell turned to face her, his ear
pressed against his knees. ‘It’s hard
not to when I know that if I ever step out of line, lash out that I’d be dead
before I hit the floor.’
‘Did Jack say that?’
‘Yeah.
I don’t know who I am or what I’ll become, although given that my Uncle
was a wolf I’ve got a pretty good idea.
I don’t know how I’m going to react when it happens. Jack won’t let me out because he says it’s
not safe, but who is he protecting, me or him?
I’m somebody he promised to protect.
I have no special powers, I’m not a prisoner although he did often suggest
I should be clamped in cuffs and have unspeakable things done to me.’ Gwen smirked.
‘So, I have to know how important I am to Jack, because other than
knowing a few things about me, Jack hasn’t told me shit about my heritage, my
family or what I can expect when I become another year older. Other than dead!’
Gwen smiled. ‘Jack doesn’t like talking about the past
very much, if at all. I’m sure when he
comes back, he’ll sit you down and he’ll tell you everything.’
‘If he comes back.’ Mitchell returned to face front.
‘Oh, he’ll come back. It’s what he does see, he always comes back,
eventually. Now why don’t we go back
inside, get a nice cup of coffee and find out who owns that vicious rodent, and
maybe locate just where Jack may be hiding.’
Gwen got to her feet stiffly and felt the immediate chill to her back
and shivered. She held her hand down to
Mitchell who after a moment’s thought took a hold and pulled himself up. She again looked deeply at his handsome
features, his chiselled good looks, and inhaled deeply. Mitchell grinned.
‘Yeah, Jack did suggest a threesome
possibility but he didn’t think you’d be up for it.’ Gwen’s cheeks reddened and Mitchell laughed
all the way back into the warmth.
‘
Clark stared ahead at the
blackened skies as he sat in the parked car.
It was somewhere between night and morning, the street lights were
tinged with orange glow, and a milk van’s headlights bounced along the road
towards him, as if on a rodeo bull, jumping in and out of the pot holes,
without a care for the bottles or for the axle on the vehicle. A bottle bounced out of the crate and smashed
on the roadway into the car park, it bled milk into the gutter, jolting Clark
out of his own thoughts.
When Clark sat in the Major’s office and
listened to the old man everything made sense, the plans, the instructions, the
‘what to do if she doesn’t comply’ the ‘what to do if He didn’t comply’ had
been easy to imagine in his head, but now in the cold light of almost day, convincing
Gwen and that little ‘shit’ Mitchell that he needed him and the laptop without
drawing suspicion on his actions, felt less convincing than it did
earlier. .
As the fire exit door closed with a thump
behind him he took a deep breath. As he
climbed the stairs he told himself, willed himself that it was a straight
forward in and out operation without much interference and he’d be back with
the Major in a few hours tops and his association with the old man would be
over. It was after all the only reason he’d stuck around for so long. Debts had to be paid, life as he knew it
would only reap rewards if he did as he was told.
As Clark pulled open the door to Level 17,
the familiar smells welcomed him in, the strong aroma of coffee tantalised his
senses and he almost put aside what he had to do, for a seat at his computer, a
cup of thick black coffee and an enjoyable eavesdrop of conversations. As he pushed open the doors into the office,
the chatter that had floated lightly on the air ceased as he entered. He hated that.
All eyes were upon him as he entered the
office of streamlined computer screens all depicting the swirl of the Torchwood
alien software. He saw Jack’s office
door closed, and Mitchell and Gwen together, was he getting a dressing down, or
were they conspiring?
Then he saw it, the silver metal robot, in
bits, coated in a red thick stickiness that on closer inspection looked like
blood, with the bloody fingerprints around the barbed body. He paused at the side of it. ‘What the hell’s that?’ he pushed the two split portions around with
a pen from his pocket, the contents were empty.
‘We thought you might be able to tell us
Clark, given that it has all the hallmarks of being something that a man of
your expertise might use.’ Gwen replied
taking a moment to gauge Clark’s reactions.
He seemed to be looking for something.
‘It looks like something futuristic, where
did you get it?’ Clark’s eyes connected
with Gwen’s, having realised that the data was missing from inside the cracked
machine.
‘I found it.’ Mitchell replied moving his bandaged hand so
Clark could see it. ‘In the vents
clamped to the cables that feed the data through the building that also link us
to the outside world, every portion of data including security, firewalls, your
missing computer data and maybe that game.
Asshole!’
‘Wait, are you accusing me of something
here, because let me tell you something, you’re barking up the wrong tree.’
Clark pocketed the pen and took a step towards Mitchell aiming the
sarcasm directly back to the source.
‘Enough the pair of you.’ Gwen snapped.
‘You worked in Intelligence, this kind of device would be something that
you or someone like you would use, am I correct?’ Gwen studied Clark’s face for changes in his
approach.
‘It’s possible.’ He replied.
‘But it’s not something I’d use.
I don’t need to; I left that career behind me years ago.’
‘That’s not strictly true, is it? Your coming to Torchwood was on the merits of
your Intelligence work in the field.
Jack was impressed by your credentials, although also a little wary,
given the connections with the Black Ops and what they mean for us as an
organisation.’
Mitchell listened, he was unaware of
Torchwood’s past, but this was interesting.
Clark sighed and turned
his attention to the broken device on the desk.
‘Why would I need to infiltrate Torchwood?’
‘You tell us.’ Gwen replied, aware of the tension in the
room. ‘Jack is missing presumed
kidnapped or dead, you keep disappearing.’
‘I have a sick uncle who thanks to you lot
is now in hospital.’ Clark growled. He inhaled sharply and stared up at the
ceiling a moment. ‘Alright.’ He lowered
his gaze and puffed out his cheeks. He
focused on Gwen and Mitchell, blanking Marley who unbeknown to him was running
a software programme that detected and isolated heat sources within the
room. So far Clark was measuring 8.9
bels higher than Gwen or Mitchell.
According to the manual this indicated nervous tension and
unpredictability.
‘It was Jack, he asked me to check something
out for him. I thought it was a little
odd that he didn’t trust his own team, given how long you’ve all been working
together.’
Gwen eyed the Welshman suspiciously. She’d known Jack the longest, if anything he
would have asked her to check up on something, why did he ask him, was it his
training, she’d been in the police force for Christ sake, why didn’t he ask
her?
Mitchell watched Clark edge closer to
Jack’s office and stepped closer to the closed door. Clark was keeping his thoughts to
himself. Did he know that Mitchell could
mind read?
‘There are people after Mitchell...’ Clark continued. ‘government agencies mostly. He killed a man, an influential man in the
Ministry of Defence, who although has a shady underside, he pays for sex...’ Clark added.
‘He was killed for some official secrets, a blue print I believe. Torchwood did well to cover it up, but
intelligence has it that the murderer is living and working in Cardiff after
escaping capture in London. Now you tell
me Gwen Cooper, why Jack Harkness would be holding a fugitive of the law if
there wasn’t something in it for him? And if he’s after the blueprint, why
hasn’t he accessed it yet?’
‘But how do you know it’s Mitchell, there’s
nothing in what you’ve said that indicates that it’s him?’
‘Oh, it’s him alright.’ He glared darkly at Mitchell. ‘My sources tell me that he is the son of
Jack Harkness, and he works for Torchwood.
It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to work that one out.’
‘If Jack was planning anything he would have
told me about this.’
‘Why, Gwen, why would he tell you?’
‘Because he would, we’ve known each other
long enough now.’
‘Perhaps he didn’t want to involve you.’
‘Or perhaps he wanted to test your loyalty?’ Marley interjected looking up from her
work. ‘We all know your connections with
the Intelligence Forces Clark, your credentials are on the computer for us all
to see, your data is spread across with links and associations and it’s evident
that you want to continue in that field, but using that to work for Torchwood.’ She added.
‘Question is though, are you working for us, or do you have another
agenda?’
Mitchell smiled. She may have had her doubts about him, but
she was certainly nailing it for Clark.
‘Jack told me that Mitchell had to be kept
safe at all costs. But every day he
comes into work, in a place that sticks out like a great big neon sign across
the city. For all you know, every agency
is downstairs waiting to access this building.
How many more of these rodents do you think there are, and right now
they could be closing in on Level 17, while we’re here discussing if I’m a
loyal member of the Scooby Doo gang.’ He
roared at them, angered by their lack of trust and their misplaced loyalty for
a man who was locked in a military facility.
‘It’s difficult to feel any kind of sympathy
for a man who would sell his own sister for the secrets of an organisation
purely on the basis of a hunch?’
‘How did...?’ Clark’s stomach flipped.
‘You see working for Torchwood allows us the
same kind of access if not more, than you Intelligence boys, and one thing we
were able to glean from your information, was that you had a sister, something
you failed to tell us about in your initial interview.’ Gwen stood her ground.
‘You had no right to know that. It’s
private.’
‘In this line of business, nothing is private
for long. Mitchell stays with us. He’s part of us, and we’re a united front.’ Gwen stared hard at Clark. Sometimes in her job she hated knowing the
truth of a person. ‘Why did you keep her
a secret?’
‘It’s none of your damn business.’ Clark snapped, his voice wavering. ‘It was a long time ago, but she was killed
and everything was covered up, and if you want to know why I joined Torchwood,
it’s because of her, and because I want to know the truth and I know Torchwood
know EXACTLY what happened to her.’
For a few moments nobody spoke. Clark regained his composure, Mitchell, Gwen
and Marley watched him, warily.
Straightening his jacket and toying with
the tie that sat askew, Clark stared at each person in turn. ‘Mitchell is the reason your leader is
missing, and if we don’t move him to a more secure location, the people who
want him will stop at nothing to get him, which means going to the source of
each and every one of your families and torturing them, do you think you can
handle that?’
‘I don’t have anyone.’ Marley put in. Gwen stared at her exasperated.
‘You have a family that you keep researching
and monitoring, the other you has a mum and dad, do you not think that the
powers that operate outside of Torchwood wouldn’t have already thought of that,
given that you found one rodent, what’s to say there aren’t more and the
information isn’t already feeding back on one very large computer system?’
Marley paled. Gwen felt sick, but she swallowed it
back. She’d been in this situation
before and they’d come through it, stronger and tougher and as much as she
worried for her family, giving in now would kill them all!
A phone rang out on the desk and everyone
jumped. Gwen and the team stared at the
phone a few moments before Gwen pressed the button to the side for all to
hear.
‘Hello?’
Gwen called stepping back from the phone as if it were likely to
explode. The caller spoke. ‘Good evening.’ An oily, well groomed accentuated masculine
voice replied. There was an air of
authority about the man, military, definitely.
‘By now you’re wondering who I am, and are probably running a trace on
this call, so I’ll keep it brief.’ Gwen
raised a brow. ‘We have something you
want, and you have something we need. I suggest a trade off.’
‘What is it you have?’ Gwen didn’t like the voice
‘I’m sure you already know that answer Agent
Cooper.’
Gwen scowled. ‘So you have Jack and you’re going to give
him over just like that. What is it that
you think we have?’
The oily voice laughed. ‘I was under the impression that Torchwood
was a higher authority, and therefore had the intelligence of asking
intelligent questions. So far, I’m not
impressed. You are harbouring a murderer
Miss Cooper and unless you hand him over with the documents that he has stolen
from us, I’m afraid you won’t see your fearless leader ever again.’
‘Jack can look after himself. There’s no deal on the table.’
‘Come now Ms Cooper, do you think I don’t
know how much you love your Captain? I’m giving you the option of handing
Mitchell Harkness over for a simple trade off. If my demands aren’t met, in 60
minutes I will gain access to your building and take him by force. I would suggest you comply, because I can get
very nasty when I want.’ There was a
pause and background noise then the line went dead.
‘It’s gone. Sorry.’ Marley replied having run a trace.
‘Damn.’
Gwen cussed and turned away from the phone, biting her thumbnail. Did they not know about Jack and his Lazarus
qualities? Surely by now the military
would know he couldn’t die. She glanced
over at Mitchell before catching movement in the office. She caught sight of the backside of Clark
Goodson as he leant over the desk in search of the missing laptop.
‘Can I help you?’ Gwen called, noticing a distinct freeze of
the man’s movements. She stepped in and
flipped the clip from her gun, her hand now gripping the handle.
‘I was looking for an address book, a
location to a safe house, I thought you’d want me to move Mitchell somewhere
safe?’ Clark straightened up and eyed
Gwen with mild contempt.
‘Nobody has access to this room other than
me when Jack is away.’
‘That’s a little discriminatory don’t you
think.’
‘Given the circumstances I don’t see a
problem with it.’
‘Circumstances?’ He raised a brow. ‘You still don’t trust me? I’m on your side,
but still you have your doubts.’ He took
a step towards her as Gwen took a step back.
‘I suppose it’s difficult to know who to trust these days.’
‘I trust Jack. And I know when he tells me that Mitchell
stays with us no matter what, I find it increasingly interesting when I see
someone like you, desperate to remove him from the building. We work together as a team, yet so far, you’d
rather work solo. Which makes me think
that your agenda isn’t with us, am I right?’
Clark scoffed, and removed his pistol from
his shoulder holster in much the same speed as Gwen, and both stared down the
barrel of the other’s gun.
‘That’s the thing about trust, it often
works on hunches, and when my hunch tells me that one of the people we enlisted
has outside interests, it’s worth keeping an eye on them.’
‘So, you’ve been stalking me?’ Clark raised a brow and took a step forward,
urging Gwen to step from the office.
‘Put your gun down, let’s talk about this.’ She backed into the office, Marley had
already grabbed her gun, Mitchell, weaponless could only watch and pray nobody
started shooting.
‘If you don’t give them Mitchell, they’ll
kill Jack, is that what you want?’
‘Jack can handle himself. Mitchell is not going anywhere.’
‘You don’t know what these people are like.’
‘I have a pretty good idea. They hate Torchwood and they want to punish
Jack for something, and they think by doing that, we’ll give up what he’s been
trying to protect. So, no, Mitchell
stays with us.’
‘But I could shoot you.’
‘You could but then I would have already
fired off a shot, catching you in the chest, or your neck and you’d have as
much chance as me then in protecting Mitchell.
Or Marley would take you out and we’d still be saved.’
‘Do you value Torchwood over your own
family?’
‘Torchwood is protecting my family, and they
can handle whatever life throws at them.
I trust them, and they trust me.’
‘But do you trust Jack?’
The arm of the clock counted down the
minutes remaining.
‘I don’t want to hurt you
Gwen, but if that blue print falls into the wrong hands it could spell the end
for all of us.’ Clark said glancing
momentarily at Mitchell.
‘What’s the blueprint for?’ Gwen kept her eyes on Clark.
‘It’s important to the people who are
holding Jack, to that man on the phone, to the people of the world. If that blueprint is used, we’ll all be dead.’
‘So, then the blueprint and the laptop shall
remain the property of Torchwood.’
‘But it’s not Gwen, it’s the property of the
military.’
Mitchell sighed. He knew exactly what was on the
blueprint. ‘Son of a bitch!’ He muttered.
He sighed heavily. Gwen glanced
back for a beat.
‘Mitchell?’
Gwen turned to face him.
‘That’s why I’m here. It’s because of my heritage, because of my
family Gwen.’ Mitchell took a step
towards Clark, and into the line of fire. ‘Just give him the damn thing and
let’s end this.’ He glared at Clark and
took another few steps towards him but Goodson raised his gun. ‘Put the fucking gun down, you want me I’m
right here.’
‘No Mitchell.’ Gwen protested.
‘It’s alright Gwen, if I go and give them
what they want, you get Jack back, life continues as normal, and I get what I
what I always wanted.’
‘Which is?’
Clark was curious.
‘In the vaults, deep down in the bowels of a
military silo belonging to UNIT is a cell where they keep prisoners from other
galaxies, and in one of those cells is a woman who I have seen in my dreams
every night since I was old enough to remember.’ Mitchell looked at Gwen. ‘You get Jack back; I get to see my Mom!’
It was a long ride in
Clark’s car, he’d hoped for a seat in the front, at best even a comfy ride in
the back seat, but bound and gagged and in the boot along with the tyre lever
and the spare tyre was not something he considered for the 160 mile drive to
London. But it gave him time to think.
Gwen stared around the
mess of the office, in less than twenty five minutes of Mitchell resigning
himself to Clark, all hell had broken loose.
The phone had rung again and this time the screams of Jack Harkness
echoed around the room; whatever they were doing to him, it ended with a
sickening crunch and silence had fallen across the office. Gwen still couldn’t shake the bone crunching
pop that echoed over the speakers. It
was after that, after the initial shock that Mitchell had lunged at Clark,
Clark had fired a shot, Marley had been hit in the shoulder and Clark had used
Mitchell as a shield to exit the building.
Despite Gwen giving chase, Clark had disabled the lifts long enough to
stop Gwen from pursuing them.
‘So, what happens now?’ Marley asked biting down on two painkillers
‘Allowing for the fact that Clark may have
located the decoy tracker in Mitchell’s phone...’ Gwen told her, as Clark tossed the tracker
out of the window of the car. ‘...that
leaves us with one possibility.’
‘Which is?’
Marley asked.
Gwen stared at the flashing red light on
her computer screen that moved steadily towards London. ‘He’s not found the real one.’ She tapped the screen. ‘If I’m right, he’ll be taking Mitchell to
the same location where they’re hiding Jack, and if what he says is true about
the military silo, then I think I need to make a few phone calls. I’ve a friend in UNIT that might be able to
help. Marley, keep your eye on that flashing
red light, I want to know where it’s going.’
Gwen disappeared into Jack’s office and searching through a list of
numbers on Jack’s desk, made a call to Dr. Martha Jones. UNIT’s finest.
Mitchell felt sick. He wasn’t naturally travel sick, but the
smell of exhaust fumes belching from the pipe, and bleeding back into the boot from
the rust holes in the chassis, he considered the possibility of choking to
death before they arrived. He kicked at
the back wall of the boot. The muffled
thumps could be heard from the front of the car. Mitchell felt the car slow, the familiar bump
of the cats eyes as the tyres ran over them and the steady stream of cars
passing them to his right that shook the car.
He heard the car door close and the saw
the boot lid open and blinked in the street lights as they streamed in. For a few moments Mitchell stared up at
Clark, the gag in his mouth impossible to speak clearly.
Clark wasn’t in the mood for chatter. Pulling the gun from his side holster and
appearing to check his rounds, Mitchell panicked. It sounded through the gag that he was
begging for his life, but it came through as muffled cries. Clark pulled the trigger twice before closing
the lid. He breathed a sigh of relief. They were two hours from base. Clark climbed back into the driver’s seat and
closed the door, he stowed the tranq gun under his seat, and drove to the
military base to rendezvous with the Major.
Jack’s eyes flickered
open. His vision was blurred but soon
focused. It was dark but a low hum could
be felt vibrating through the metal and chrome work of wherever they’d put
him. He could feel the nerve endings
tingle. He swallowed painfully. He was upright, semi seated. He still couldn’t feel below his waist and
that bothered him, because at some point, usually, given who and what he was,
some kind of feeling would venture back but nothing. That wasn’t normal!
He listened out for the tiniest of sounds,
the clattering of many feet as before, voices, men in uniform, scuffing their
heels as they walked. There was a
familiar smell and it wasn’t him. There
was another, somewhere in the darkness of the room – he considered it was a
room, he wasn’t out in a corridor.
Corridors had different smells also, and this wasn’t it.
Jack found that he could flex his fingers,
he could feel the hairs on his arms bristle as a cool air escaped from
somewhere. Fresh air. Where was he?
He tried to move but something was tethered to the back of his
skull. He tried to dislodge it by moving
his head but an intense burning sensation pierced through the back of his head,
between his skull and his spine. His
eyes widened. ‘You won’t need your limbs, not for what I need you for!’
‘Oh my God!’
Jack croaked.
Goodson threw open the
boot and coughed at the exhaust smell from within.
‘I wanted him alive, not dead you fool.’ The Major growled.
‘He is.
He’s just sleeping off the tranquilisers.’ Goodson replied hauling Mitchell out.
‘Did you get the laptop?’
Goodson nodded. ‘Everything present and correct, now where do
you want him?’
The Major nodded to two heavy looking
gentlemen who stepped forward, with stocky necks and short cropped haircuts and
broad shoulders. ‘Take him to the front
of the ship and secure him well.’
Clark felt a shift in the command and
watched the two men built like mastiff’s half carry half drag Mitchell along
the tarmac towards the giant hangar, where the Arakian space ship was parked.
‘What about me, sir?’
‘Oh you’ll be rewarded, come the morning
your account will look the healthiest it’s looked in years.’ The Major steered the wheelchair along the
tarmac road towards the hangar.
‘And Rachel?’ Clark swallowed.
The Major stopped in his tracks and turned
a sinister face towards the Welshman, whose striped suit was mottled by the spots
of rain that began to fall in the early morning light.
‘I’m suspecting an air of doubt in your
voice Goodson. I’m a man of my word, you
will receive everything in due course, now let’s go, before UNIT discover
what’s going on.’
‘Do you not have clearance?’
‘This laptop contains valuable information
about the ship, which will aid us in our journey. I have covered every avenue for this mission,
while you played field agent with Torchwood, I was securing your future at my
side. Now let’s discuss any further
questions on board the ship.’
Inside the hangar, of the
military base belonging to UNIT, a large alien cruise ship took up most of the
room in the giant shed. Despite its
crash landing 25 years ago, its body work was in fairly good condition, only
the left wing showed any kind of damage and questionable as to whether it would
hold in place long enough for it to be airborne. But the Major was confident that all would be
good. The cruiser in its day had housed
an army of thousands, most in the lower quarters and deployed in smaller battle
tanks that were double seated fighter planes in Earth terms, now only three
remained intact, abandoned in the hold, secured to their metal grips, pulled
back and ready for launch.
Clark stared in awe at the alien space
craft he was now walking inside of. The
shiny chrome platforms led off into separate compartments, along corridors that
lead off into a labyrinth of levels.
Clark had to remind himself that often things weren’t all that they
seemed and alien life forms were often more advanced. The metal surrounds inside the ship smelt
new, as if he were walking around a car factory, where nothing had disturbed
the paintwork of a new model, everything had been polished, bright and
clean. Noises below him could be felt
and heard through the vents along the top level of the walls, feeding out along
the corridors. They sounded
animalistic. He wondered what they were
but before he could ask, they had reached the front of the ship. It was half the size of a football pitch and
along the walls on either side were compartments with wires and cables that fed
through to the main power source beneath them.
Screens were set along each individual wall panel for the various rooms
on the ship, so that whoever was piloting the ship could see everything his
crew were doing, no room for error, or was there more to it than that? To Clark it seemed more like an air of
mistrust for the crew.
He caught sight of a
beautiful woman with flowing dark hair who was incarcerated in a cell. She smiled at him and he felt a surge of
unrequited love for her, without even knowing why. He wanted to know more about her and found
himself smiling back, he also felt a stirring in his loins.
‘Don’t even think about it, she’s out of
your league.’ The old man said as Clark
made steps towards her.
Clark paused. ‘Who is she?’
‘All in good time, just don’t listen to her,
don’t let her out, and don’t have sex with her.’
Clark scoffed. ‘As if I would. Not on a first date.’
‘Not on any date. Keep your mind on the job and your dick in
your pants. This is important and I’ve
not spent the last 20 odd years working towards this moment to have a human
wreck it for me. Now go and take a seat
at the controls, it’s a two man operation to get this ship off the ground, and I
need you to listen and do everything that I say.’ The Major snarled, and for the first time
since he’d met him, Clark felt uneasy.
Mitchell felt sick. He felt his new confines to be different. He was out of the car, he was upright, two
soft supports held him up under his arms, a bar prevented him from falling
forward and his hands were secured in clamps rather like oversized cuffs. He couldn’t see much through the black cover
over his head but he could hear voices, one familiar – Clark, and one older
voice, the voice from the telephone. He
opened his eyes and blinked several times.
He strained his ears to hear anything from the noises the other side of
the hood. His head swam with nausea. If he was with Clark and they were now with
the guy who held Jack hostage, had the exchange happened?
Gwen slammed down the
phone and Marley jumped.
‘We have to go – NOW!’ She said, snatching up her jacket from behind
her chair. Marley did as she was told,
grabbing her bag and equipment for the journey.
Gwen filled her in on the way to the car. ‘Jack has been suspicious of Clark’s
involvement with Torchwood since he joined.
So, he did a bit of digging, and it seems that the ‘Uncle’ he had us
feel sorry for, is in fact some old disabled Major who according to UNIT
doesn’t actually have any military credentials.
He’s connected with the crash of that space ship 25 years ago.’ Gwen unlocked the car and slid into the
driver’s seat. Marley stowed her kit and
bag into the back seat and took her position in the passenger seat. ‘When Mitchell was in London he stole a
blueprint of the ship housed in S17 hangar at the UNIT military base in Sussex.’ Gwen reversed the car then drove forwards out
onto the road for London.
Marley glanced at the PDA, the red blip
was static and bleeping. She broadened
the area to locate exactly where the blip was.
‘They’re at the hangar already.
If they’re in that ship, they won’t be there long. If you’ve got a ship like that you don’t hang
around.’
Gwen shot her a look. She was right. She tore the car across the lanes of the
bypass amidst a screech of tyres and angry car horns and sped towards the small
airport, she needed a plane, helicopter, anything to reach them before they
left.
Clark sat the controls, a
series of buttons and levers, dials and knobs he’d never seen before on any
control, anywhere on Earth. ‘What do I
press?’ He heard a clatter behind him
and the side arm of the wheelchair was lying to the left side of the
chair. The Major was on his feet, and
what a lot of feet that was. Clark’s
mouth fell open. Standing on his six
pointed feet or toes, or pincers, was the Major. The man himself seemed grateful to be out of
the metallic contraption that had hidden his alien self.
‘I...I...what are you?’ Clark stammered.
‘In charge is what I am. I am Major Skelagh of the Confederate Fleet of Arakia, and I am
going home.’
‘He’s a traitor is what he is.’ The voice came
from the cage, the woman Clark had noticed as he’d entered. ‘A dirty rotten traitor who used the royal
family to secure his status within the government and had the queen executed to
cover up his crimes against the State.’
She spat vehemently and grasped the metal bars of her confinement tightly.
‘The only traitor is you my dear, and if the
crew hadn’t declared mutiny on the ship, no thanks to you, we would have been
home and you would have stood trial for your crimes.’
‘My only crime was trusting you Skelagh.’ The woman shook the bars but they remained
secure. She was young, in Clark’s eyes
only in her early 40’s, with olive skin and dark brown hair that bounced
against her shoulders as she shook the bars.
She was slim, but there was a bitterness to her features, perhaps the
incarceration had taken its toll on her after all this time.
‘Who is she?’ Clark asked gazing into her eyes as he walked
over to her cage.
‘Dangerous, now step away before she seduces
you.’
Clark looked back at the Major. ‘I worked for you for four years and in all
that time I never saw evidence of that.’
He pointed at the Major’s legs.
‘Why would you? Your world is full of
judgemental civilians who would sooner lock me in a cell and dissect me to see
how I work. I was injured in battle, and
during those war years, there was little in the way of replacements, we had to
take what we could get, and fallen comrades from the Free Nations meant there
was an abundance of these crablike pins.
They work just the same, and it means I can move faster with six than
with two.’ He replied, proving the fact
as he scuttled over and physically yanked Clark back to the controls. ‘Onboard are people who will be returning to
Arakia to be tried and executed for their crimes and associations to the royal
family, and I can’t wait to claim my reward for that.’ He pushed Clark into his seat and edged with
chattering feet towards the secured man wearing the hood, that Clark instantly
recognised as Mitchell.
Mitchell blinked and winced at the sudden
glare of light hit his eyes. He stared
directly at the old man who with his six pins was a little short of 6ft. The old man laughed. Clark looked questionably at the Major and
Mitchell. ‘I don’t understand, what has
Mitchell got to do with this?’
Major Skelagh released Mitchell from his
bonds and clasping a hand against the back of his shirt forcibly walked him
towards the woman. ‘Because this boy is
the new Prince of Arakia. She is his
mother, the new Queen. Both of whom will
be executed when we touch down on Arakia.
Then I will take up my appointed position as governor of all, and
introduce my new army, and they will be an unstoppable force.’
For the first time in his life, Mitchell
came face to face with the woman from his dreams. She was shorter than he imagined but there
was a familiar feel about her. He’d
never known her in childhood, having been taken from her moments after birth,
but she still registered in his memories earlier than those of human childhood
memories.
Shalai glanced at the young man before
her. She smiled lightly, not recognising
him for a moment but for the dark blue eyes and the dark hair, the matinee look
of a man she’d shared a few nights of passion with. ‘You look like your father.’ She said at last, holding a hand out to
him.
Mitchell stared down at her olive skin
hand and held out his, slipping his fingers into hers, feeling the warmth and a
gentle tingle as their senses connected.
He inhaled sharply as the bond sealed itself between them and he learnt
of his heritage and the life away from Earth.
Gwen drew up alongside the
large padlocked gates of the small runway and swore, thumping her fists against
the steering wheel. ‘Damn! Damn! Damn!’ she cursed.
She bit her lower lip, toying with a piece of loose skin and proceeded
to chew it off as she weighed up the situation.
‘Right.’ Shifting the gears into
reverse Gwen steered herself back out onto the road, and doubled back until
they reached the road to London.
‘We won’t have time Gwen, look.’ Marley held the PDA that showed the red blip
moving, albeit slowly at first. ‘We’ve over a hundred miles to cover by car
Gwen, we’ll never make it.’ Gwen took
the road back to Cardiff. ‘Where are we
going?’
‘If I know Jack, then the best course of
action is to return to base and monitor from there.’ Gwen wasn’t completely convinced given the
last cry from Jack earlier that Jack would be in any condition to do anything,
but she couldn’t give up on him. She
hoped that whoever did have him wouldn’t know him like she did, wouldn’t know
that no matter how much he was hurt, he’d come back and he’d return. She really hoped that this was one of those
moments but the closer to the city of Cardiff she reached, the less she felt
convinced that she was right.
Light began to filter into
the room Jack was secured in. He was
able to see for himself just how incapacitated he really was. He was seated upright, his arms supported by
soft rests similar to that of Mitchell’s status earlier. He was semi naked. No longer did he feel the soft cotton shirt
against his back. Inserted into his
chest were long pins that as he breathed felt them rub against the vital organs
that pumped oxygen and blood through his body.
He knew automatically what he was and it made him sick. He was wired into the main frame; he operated
the electrics, the computerised system, the body of the entire cruiser rested
with him. If he stopped working, the
entire crew would be dead. He could live
with that. When he died, so would the
ship. The needle that was inserted into
his cerebral cortex meant that he was the controller and an evil smile spread
over his matinee idol face.
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