Torchwood 15 - Consequences by Andrew Cartmel & Joseph Lidster & David M Llewellyn & James Moran

Author:Andrew Cartmel & Joseph Lidster & David M Llewellyn & James Moran
Language: eng
Format: azw
Tags: Short Stories, High Tech, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Movie Tie-Ins, Movie, Science Fiction, TV, Literature & Fiction, Genre Fiction, Video Game Adaptations
Publisher: BBC Digital
Published: 2010-06-28T23:00:00+00:00

Virus

JAMES MORAN

‘I can see the headlines now,’ said Ianto. ‘They’ll have a field day. “Torchwood kills babies”.’

‘Hey – we didn’t kill a baby,’ said Jack. ‘It wasn’t a baby, it was an alien.’

‘Yes,’ said Ianto. ‘An alien baby.’

The team walked into the Hub, covered in dust and dirt.

‘Fine, an alien baby. But we didn’t kill it. She activated the self-destruct, there was nothing we could do.’

‘Just as well we left before the TV cameras arrived,’ said Ianto. ‘But someone’s bound to have noticed us.’

‘They won’t even know we were there,’ said Gwen. ‘It was all fairly low-key. More or less. Apart from the supermarket blowing up. How are we going to explain that one, by the way?’

‘Gas leak,’ said Jack. ‘I mentioned it to a deliciously firm-looking firefighter. Told him somebody complained about smelling gas a few hours before it happened. We can seed the story in the usual places, it won’t be a problem.’

‘Was that the one I saw you chatting to by the phone box?’ asked Gwen. ‘Ooh, he was bloody lovely, he was. When he started unravelling that hose, I thought I was going to faint.’

‘Some firefighting skills transfer very nicely to other areas,’ said Jack, grinning.

‘Hey,’ said Gwen. ‘I saw him first.’

‘And you’re taken,’ said Ianto. ‘Both of you are. Nothing wrong with window shopping, just try not to lick the glass so much.’

They walked down to the Boardroom and sat down. Ianto opened up three pizza boxes, and passed round bottles of beer. He presented the pizzas with a flourish.

‘Fine dining, Torchwood style,’ he said. ‘There’s no dessert, so make the most of it.’

Gwen smiled at him. ‘It’s perfect, thank you.’

She and Jack lifted their beer bottles as a salute to Ianto, who bowed appreciatively. ‘I do my best,’ he said. ‘Which is usually pretty damn good, if I say so myself. Which I do.’

They ate the pizzas in silence, too tired to talk. Gwen would have preferred to be having dinner with Rhys, but he was out tonight with Banana Boat and Daf. She didn’t want to be at home, eating by herself. She was glad of the company. Just another evening at Torchwood, sitting around together, with a takeaway.

Jack noticed a blinking light on the telephone screen. He raised his eyebrows. ‘Twenty-seven messages. All from the same number. Detective Kathy Swanson. That can’t be good.’

‘Don’t listen to them,’ said Gwen. ‘We already know what she’s going to say.’

‘True,’ said Ianto. ‘Blah blah blah, Torchwood are rubbish, you think you own the place, blah blah blah.’

‘I know,’ said Jack. ‘But she might need help with something. And let’s face it, we probably deserve a verbal kicking.’

The other two looked at him. He shrugged, and hit the redial button.

The police station looked like a paper bomb had hit it, and officers were frantically scrambling around trying to deal with the constant phone calls and reports. In the midst of it all, Detective Swanson was swearing spectacularly, employing some new and unusual combinations of words. A uniformed officer approached, and waited for a break in the swearing.

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