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Reunion (3/4)
Title: Reunion
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: It's all as innocent as a summer rain... if Jack and Ianto were playing outside
Summary: After seven years, Jack and Ianto meet again
Disclaimer: Oh, please. If I owned them, would I let some of those idiots write the scripts? And if I were making any money off them, would I be where they could find me?
Author's Note: During my recent writer's brick wall (writer's block doesn't quite do it justice) I did manage to write something. This stand-alone was written for torchwood-fest.livejournal.com/. As usual, I forgot that livejournal and dreamwidth do not pick up the formatting in a .doc. My fault, I should have coded it properly, but, considering how many meds I was on, I doubt I could have been successful. Therefore, here it is. BTW, I do encourage you to go read the stories, especially the one written for me by tonjavmoore: torchwood-fest.livejournal.com/49611.htm
Part one is here; Part two is here
CHAPTER FIVE: GWEN
The black aircar glided to a neat landing in one of the parking spaces in front of the dingy arcology on the Penarth Esplanade. Gwen wasn't surprised to see Professor Jones emerge from the front passenger seat. He had changed out of the suit and into jeans, a sweatshirt, and boat shoes. She allowed herself a little drooling before bringing her mind back to the matter at hand.
“How did you find this place?” Jack asked, staring upwards. “And who thought this monstrosity was a good idea?”
“Some idiots with more money than sense decided to create an all-inclusive resort for off-worlders, like Penarth was Costa Rica or something.” Andy explained. “Went broke before it could be finished and the thing has been sitting here ever since getting uglier and uglier. And we didn't find it, Rhys did.”
“Rhys?”
“My fiancé,” Gwen said. “He manages a transport company. Last night at dinner we were talking about the case, in general terms, mind you, and he pointed out that the easiest way to fall below the official radar is to find a place with automated delivery and pickup and order everything in. As long as you don't use the same shops too often you can disappear from sight. Who could point out Mr. Jones to the coppers if they never saw him?”
“So Gwen and I went to work using a list of things the eeulinaali had ordered at their hotels and in restaurants,” Andy continued. “Things they seemed to enjoy eating or using or whatever. And this was the only place who had things on the list delivered, and nothing else.”
“Is it something in the water?” Jack asked Ianto. “Or is there a Welsh investigative gene?”
“History,” Ianto riposted. “We Welsh survived for millennia by keeping an eye on our neighbours and figuring out what the hell they were up to.”
“You know, that actually makes sense. All right. Let's go.”
Metal gates fitted with palm print scanners blocked entry to the lobby. Gwen reached for her badge, but before she could move, Jack pointed something at them; the thing looked like one of the multipurpose tools Gwen's tad used in his woodworking. A soft whine, and the gates slid open.
“What is that?” Andy asked.
“Sonic screwdriver. Only two in existence.” Jack swept through to the elevators. “Keep up, children.”
The lobby was five or six stories high. Gwen assumed that at some point there would have been restaurants and shops on the ground floor and, if she strained, she could see the empty fittings for giant chandeliers high overhead. A double colonnade on either side of the space extended backwards to a bank of glass elevators gleaming dully at the far end.
“It's too easy,” Andy opined. “I would have left guards behind.”
“He did,” Professor Jones said quietly. “Can you smell that?”
Gwen sniffed. “Yeah. Smells like a roomful of pigs.”
“We wish. You're smelling an ielos. Think of it as a cross between a bat and a one-man endoatmospheric fighter.” Jack pointed at the colonnades. “Gwen, Andy, you take the left-hand side. There will be booby traps. Just remember, eeulinaali necks don't bend backwards enough to allow them to look directly upwards, so their surprises tend to be of the drop-from-above kind. Owen, you take the right. Once you get to the elevators, wait for us. Ianto and I will take care of the ielos.” He pointed at Gwen. “Don't try to help. It will cause more trouble than it's worth. On my signal.”
She watched as professor Jones took something out of his pocket and strolled unconcernedly towards the elevators, whistling something that was not quite a melody. High above, she heard the flapping of wings and then the whistle of air as a massive body glided down at high speed.
“Go!”
Gwen took off, Andy right behind her. Out of the corner of her eye she could see professor Jones standing still in the middle of the room, holding up what looked like a Cadbury Dairy Milk bar. Hovering above him was something out of a sadist's worst fantasy. Gwen glimpsed huge leathery wings and sharp fangs protruding from a triangular head. Instinctively she tried to move towards the professor, only to find herself pulled back. As she slammed against the wall, something struck the ground next to her feet and burst into flame.
“Heat seeker grenades,” Andy panted. “Keep close to the wall!”
They ran at full speed down the colonnade, keeping one shoulder to the marble wall, dodging the explosions as best they could. A few bits of shrapnel reached Gwen's pants, and she blessed whichever Chief Constable it was who insisted that all officers, in or out of formal uniform, wear flame-retardant fabrics. The sounds the thing was making as it chased Professor Jones made her eardrums hurt, but she kept her eyes turned away – she didn't think she could stand to do nothing if she actually saw what was going on – and kept on running.
By the time they got to the elevators the t'Li Owen was there. He looked a little the worse for wear himself, dusty and sooty, but there didn't seem to be any physical damage. He pointed towards the battle beyond. Gwen finally allowed herself to look. Captain Harkness was caught in the animal's beak, tossed about like a puppy's toy, while professor Jones had managed to straddle its neck. He held a long knife in one hand and Gwen watched as he shifted to a two-handed grip and brought it down into the crown of the thing's head. The ielos squealed, arching its neck. Captain Harkness pushed himself out of its hold, and gripped professor Jones's outstretched hand, vaulting into place behind him. They rode the ielos's death throes to the ground, rolling away from the sickening thud and the spray of dust. They lay together for a moment, professor Jones on top of the Captain, and the look they exchanged was so intimate that Gwen looked away.
When she looked back, the two men were moving towards them. Professor Jones's face was set in what she could only describe as incandescent rage.
“They owe me. They owe my whole clan. They brought an immature ielos to Earth,” the professor's tone did not invite disagreement. “We might have lost the genetic variety in that one, and we will not forgive that.”
“I'll have someone out here to pick up enough to work from,” captain Harkness said soothingly.
“Suzie,” Gwen blurted out and then blushed under professor Jones's scrutiny, and held out her personal phone card. “She started out to be a geneticist. She would know what to do.”
He looked at her consideringly, then nodded. “Would you please call her? Give her an idea of what she'll face. She'll need at least ten sampling packs.” He handed over a credit card. “Have them charged to me. If there's a question, get my attention. I have to go help Jack with the elevators.”
Gwen watched him go, frowning. Having served as disbursement officer for the department early in her career, she had some idea of how much forensic supplies cost. Then she looked at the card and nearly swallowed her tongue. She was holding what the ficvids liked to call a 'planetary card,' a line of credit backed by massive personal or corporate holdings. There were only a few thousand in existence throughout the Alliance. The name on it was Ianto Jones, but directly below it was a line of what seemed like pictographs, and another, directly below that one, that seemed to serve as translation of the second one: ielosailai'eeali.
Ielosa. Ielos. She didn't need to be a linguist to figure out why Professor Jones looked like he could tear off the heads of a whole squadron of iil warriors without breaking a sweat.
She called Suzie and explained what was needed. The technician put her on hold, called the supplier, and together they placed the order. Suzie was her usual professional self, but Gwen could hear the excitement underneath. Order approved, she gave Suzie directions and hung up.
“Gwen!” Jack's call made her look up. “Come on!”
CHAPTER SIX: JACK
The elevator door opened on an alien landscape. The interior, which had obviously meant to be a suite of rooms, had been gutted. Glass bricks had been stacked to resemble crumbling towers. Air vines and other genetically altered greenery had been artistically draped to increase the feeling of a ruin. The curving wall that had once provided panoramic views of the bay had been covered with tapestries showing a view of a high plateau whose ocher slopes ran down to a sparkling green river. Beyond the plateau loomed high, forbidding mountains that seemed to smoke as the wind blew the snow off the peaks.
It took only a second for Jack to realize what he was looking at, but he was still a little slower than Owen. The t'Li wrapped his wings around Ianto, cocooning him and whistling what sounded even to human ears like a lullaby.
“What's wrong?” Gwen whispered.
“You two, come with me.” He stalked away to the other end of the room, where two large “ruined” walls blocked off a corner of the room. “This is a fairly accurate reproduction of a section of the ruins of the city of ieienaal. It belonged to a small clan collaterally related to the ielosa. About three hundred years ago, the city was overrun by troops not wearing a house sigil. The females past child bearing and all the males were slaughtered. The females in estrus were raped and impregnated. Traditionally that meant the clan and its holdings had become the property of the invaders, but the females refused to play by the rules. They tricked the men into leaving the city for one night, then, at sunrise the next morning, they blew up the city with themselves inside it. It was the first time in eeulinaali history that females took a public stance on political matters.”
“Political!” Gwen was about to explode. 'What is so damned political about gang rape?”
Andy put a hand on her shoulder. “Gwen, think. When you can tilt the balance of power in a whole planet with a single act, every act is potentially political.” He looked at Jack. “Life among the eeulinaali must be very nervous.”
“Indeed. The important thing to remember is that what happened at ieienaal had not happened for millennia. The Great Clan Accords kept the coup game within strict limits. The ielosa still have a bounty on the guilty clan.”
Gwen nodded towards Ianto, who was standing next to Owen, face pale and set. “There's more to it than that for him.”
“When Ianto was ten,” Jack said, “he traveled with his parents to ieienaal for his adoption ceremony. His mother was an archaeologist and she pointed out some things about the ruins that the ielosa hadn't known. There had been an official investigation at the time of the city's destruction but it hadn't identified any perpetrators. They were curious to see how much she could find out, so they hired her to excavate. She stayed behind with a bodyguard and Ianto and his father went back to the capital. Three days later the camp was attacked. Ianto's mother was killed and her body placed in a ceremonial nest of defilement, which is exactly what it sounds like. That's the kind of insult that will never be forgotten or forgiven.”
Andy gave a low whistle. “All right, then. We need evidence, the sort that'll stand up in court.” Jack watched as he meandered away, stopping here and there to peer at something and take notes. He needed someone like that. In fact, Torchwood needed both these Welsh cops.
“Do you think that the iil murdered professor Jones's mother?” Gwen asked quietly.
Jack pointed to the tapestries. “That plateau is the winter home of the ielosa. The name, by the way, means High Places Flyer. Those mountains are their true home. Anyone trying to take the plateau would spend every minute trying to look upwards. Even so, many have tried. It's one of the two most fertile places in the planet and harvests are excellent, year in and year out. The ielosa are not a large clan, but they are wealthy and powerful, and the basis for their wealth and power is that plateau. The iil, on the other hand, are also powerful and wealthy but they are land poor. All their wealth comes from making war on the other clans, and they have a history of finding quasi-legal ways of breaking treaties and taking what they want. Interestingly enough, it’s the ielosa who are more willing to adapt to the larger Universe. The iil want to return their culture to what they see as a perfect past.”
“Sounds like the earthfirsters,” Gwen muttered.
Jack laughed. “Exactly. Now, I need your eyes and your mind. Tell me what you see.”
“I don’t know much about the eeulinaali as a Culture. I could be way off.”
“So you could. Go ahead anyway.”
He watched as she took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. “It’s more than a hiding place. It’s where he can play out a fantasy. He wants to think of himself as a great warrior, swooping down on his inferiors and taking what he thinks is his by right of force. He might even have role-played here. See the scorch marks on those bricks over there? Those are new.” She bent over and touched her fingertips to a irregular splotch on the floor, sniffed them, then held them out to Jack. “Blood?”
He took a good whiff. “Yes.”
“So he has a partner or partners who play the game. But why? Humans play for so many reasons. Relaxation, companionship, obsession… and we usually put limits on the amount of physical danger we’re exposed to, well, except for those idiots who love climbing the Brecons in winter and such…” she turned to find the professor watching her, a slight smile on his lips. She blushed. “And you could probably do this much better than I could.”
“You’re doing fine,” he said. “eeulinaali play is actually very similar, both in kind and motivation, to human. Ambassador iilaaila'inali was well known for his interest in historical reenactment, although he was more likely to finance them than to participate.” He took out his phone and pressed one number. “Tosh? Can you get some work done or did my demons get you?... Angels? Please don’t lie to a father… Could you find out what the Ambassador was up to in the last three or four years? I’m especially interested in historical reenactments and female companions… yes, thanks.”
“So what is this all about, then?” Gwen asked him.
“You forgot one of the great motivators. Sex.”
Jack valiantly refrained from laughing at Gwen’s look. He kept out of Ianto’s way; the man was a born teacher.
“You mean this,” Gwen swept her arm in a wide circle, taking in the whole room, “is all so he could impress some female?”
“For millennia, the only certain way for a eeulinaal to get a mate was to win her in battle. What do you think?”
“But from what Jack said, this place was conquered and the females…” Her huge eyes grew even bigger. ‘Rape fantasy?”
He shrugged. “Why not? It’s a human kink too.”
“Ugh.” She looked around again, clearly trying to get herself under control. “So, he’s doing this to impress a female that wants to live out a rape fantasy? Or is it his fantasy and the female unwilling? Is it consensual or not?”
A low cough interrupted her. Everyone turned to look at Andy, who was leaning against one of the ruined walls. He looked, Jack thought, slightly green around the gills.
“Sirs? I have a question.”
“Brace yourselves,” Gwen said. “Andy’s questions tend to rattle the windows.”
“Go ahead, Andy,” Jack said.
“I understand how coloration works among the t’Li,” he nodded towards Own shyly. “But how does it work with the eeulinaali? Do all members of a clan share the same feather colors?”
“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” the professor said. “Families within clans share coloration, but a clan can have a large variety of colors within certain environmental limits. For example, the ielosa have a tendency to very pale hues across the color spectrum…” He stopped, looking at Andy.
“Better camouflage in the mountain snows?” the policeman asked.
“Very good. The iil tend to deep browns and reds…”
Andy held up a hand. “That’s what I thought. And if I were to see, say, a handful of deep brown-and-gold feathers with a pattern like veins?”
“You could confidently say that a member of the aaila family of the iil clan has been around.” His phone rang and he held up a hand, “Yes, Tosh?” As he listened his face shifted into what Jack had long ago christened the Ianto is going to happen to someone and not in a good way look. ‘Thanks, Tosh. That needs to be included in the file. Yes.” He smiled at Jack, a humourless smile filled with teeth. “The Ambassador has been traveling with his father’s widow, who is nominally chaperoning the Ambassador’s two nieces. If we can find any…”
“Sir,” Andy interrupted. “I don’t think you understand yet.”
He held out his right hand. Lying on the palm were three brown and gold feathers. “Maybe the t’Li Owen can tell us if they are those of an adult, but I don’t think so. Too… soft, feathery, if that makes any sense.”
Owen took a scanner out of his thorax-pouch and ran it over Andy’s hand. “Immature. No older than fifteen or sixteen eeulinaali years.” He stepped back, his wings folding tightly against his thorax in disgust. “Ianto…”
“Where did you find those, Andy?” Jack asked, even though he had a sick premonition that he already knew.
“In that little room behind the wall. It’s a… nest, I guess.” The Welshman suddenly looked like an avenging angel. “No wonder someone wanted to kill the bastard.”
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: It's all as innocent as a summer rain... if Jack and Ianto were playing outside
Summary: After seven years, Jack and Ianto meet again
Disclaimer: Oh, please. If I owned them, would I let some of those idiots write the scripts? And if I were making any money off them, would I be where they could find me?
Author's Note: During my recent writer's brick wall (writer's block doesn't quite do it justice) I did manage to write something. This stand-alone was written for torchwood-fest.livejournal.com/. As usual, I forgot that livejournal and dreamwidth do not pick up the formatting in a .doc. My fault, I should have coded it properly, but, considering how many meds I was on, I doubt I could have been successful. Therefore, here it is. BTW, I do encourage you to go read the stories, especially the one written for me by tonjavmoore: torchwood-fest.livejournal.com/49611.htm
Part one is here; Part two is here
CHAPTER FIVE: GWEN
The black aircar glided to a neat landing in one of the parking spaces in front of the dingy arcology on the Penarth Esplanade. Gwen wasn't surprised to see Professor Jones emerge from the front passenger seat. He had changed out of the suit and into jeans, a sweatshirt, and boat shoes. She allowed herself a little drooling before bringing her mind back to the matter at hand.
“How did you find this place?” Jack asked, staring upwards. “And who thought this monstrosity was a good idea?”
“Some idiots with more money than sense decided to create an all-inclusive resort for off-worlders, like Penarth was Costa Rica or something.” Andy explained. “Went broke before it could be finished and the thing has been sitting here ever since getting uglier and uglier. And we didn't find it, Rhys did.”
“Rhys?”
“My fiancé,” Gwen said. “He manages a transport company. Last night at dinner we were talking about the case, in general terms, mind you, and he pointed out that the easiest way to fall below the official radar is to find a place with automated delivery and pickup and order everything in. As long as you don't use the same shops too often you can disappear from sight. Who could point out Mr. Jones to the coppers if they never saw him?”
“So Gwen and I went to work using a list of things the eeulinaali had ordered at their hotels and in restaurants,” Andy continued. “Things they seemed to enjoy eating or using or whatever. And this was the only place who had things on the list delivered, and nothing else.”
“Is it something in the water?” Jack asked Ianto. “Or is there a Welsh investigative gene?”
“History,” Ianto riposted. “We Welsh survived for millennia by keeping an eye on our neighbours and figuring out what the hell they were up to.”
“You know, that actually makes sense. All right. Let's go.”
Metal gates fitted with palm print scanners blocked entry to the lobby. Gwen reached for her badge, but before she could move, Jack pointed something at them; the thing looked like one of the multipurpose tools Gwen's tad used in his woodworking. A soft whine, and the gates slid open.
“What is that?” Andy asked.
“Sonic screwdriver. Only two in existence.” Jack swept through to the elevators. “Keep up, children.”
The lobby was five or six stories high. Gwen assumed that at some point there would have been restaurants and shops on the ground floor and, if she strained, she could see the empty fittings for giant chandeliers high overhead. A double colonnade on either side of the space extended backwards to a bank of glass elevators gleaming dully at the far end.
“It's too easy,” Andy opined. “I would have left guards behind.”
“He did,” Professor Jones said quietly. “Can you smell that?”
Gwen sniffed. “Yeah. Smells like a roomful of pigs.”
“We wish. You're smelling an ielos. Think of it as a cross between a bat and a one-man endoatmospheric fighter.” Jack pointed at the colonnades. “Gwen, Andy, you take the left-hand side. There will be booby traps. Just remember, eeulinaali necks don't bend backwards enough to allow them to look directly upwards, so their surprises tend to be of the drop-from-above kind. Owen, you take the right. Once you get to the elevators, wait for us. Ianto and I will take care of the ielos.” He pointed at Gwen. “Don't try to help. It will cause more trouble than it's worth. On my signal.”
She watched as professor Jones took something out of his pocket and strolled unconcernedly towards the elevators, whistling something that was not quite a melody. High above, she heard the flapping of wings and then the whistle of air as a massive body glided down at high speed.
“Go!”
Gwen took off, Andy right behind her. Out of the corner of her eye she could see professor Jones standing still in the middle of the room, holding up what looked like a Cadbury Dairy Milk bar. Hovering above him was something out of a sadist's worst fantasy. Gwen glimpsed huge leathery wings and sharp fangs protruding from a triangular head. Instinctively she tried to move towards the professor, only to find herself pulled back. As she slammed against the wall, something struck the ground next to her feet and burst into flame.
“Heat seeker grenades,” Andy panted. “Keep close to the wall!”
They ran at full speed down the colonnade, keeping one shoulder to the marble wall, dodging the explosions as best they could. A few bits of shrapnel reached Gwen's pants, and she blessed whichever Chief Constable it was who insisted that all officers, in or out of formal uniform, wear flame-retardant fabrics. The sounds the thing was making as it chased Professor Jones made her eardrums hurt, but she kept her eyes turned away – she didn't think she could stand to do nothing if she actually saw what was going on – and kept on running.
By the time they got to the elevators the t'Li Owen was there. He looked a little the worse for wear himself, dusty and sooty, but there didn't seem to be any physical damage. He pointed towards the battle beyond. Gwen finally allowed herself to look. Captain Harkness was caught in the animal's beak, tossed about like a puppy's toy, while professor Jones had managed to straddle its neck. He held a long knife in one hand and Gwen watched as he shifted to a two-handed grip and brought it down into the crown of the thing's head. The ielos squealed, arching its neck. Captain Harkness pushed himself out of its hold, and gripped professor Jones's outstretched hand, vaulting into place behind him. They rode the ielos's death throes to the ground, rolling away from the sickening thud and the spray of dust. They lay together for a moment, professor Jones on top of the Captain, and the look they exchanged was so intimate that Gwen looked away.
When she looked back, the two men were moving towards them. Professor Jones's face was set in what she could only describe as incandescent rage.
“They owe me. They owe my whole clan. They brought an immature ielos to Earth,” the professor's tone did not invite disagreement. “We might have lost the genetic variety in that one, and we will not forgive that.”
“I'll have someone out here to pick up enough to work from,” captain Harkness said soothingly.
“Suzie,” Gwen blurted out and then blushed under professor Jones's scrutiny, and held out her personal phone card. “She started out to be a geneticist. She would know what to do.”
He looked at her consideringly, then nodded. “Would you please call her? Give her an idea of what she'll face. She'll need at least ten sampling packs.” He handed over a credit card. “Have them charged to me. If there's a question, get my attention. I have to go help Jack with the elevators.”
Gwen watched him go, frowning. Having served as disbursement officer for the department early in her career, she had some idea of how much forensic supplies cost. Then she looked at the card and nearly swallowed her tongue. She was holding what the ficvids liked to call a 'planetary card,' a line of credit backed by massive personal or corporate holdings. There were only a few thousand in existence throughout the Alliance. The name on it was Ianto Jones, but directly below it was a line of what seemed like pictographs, and another, directly below that one, that seemed to serve as translation of the second one: ielosailai'eeali.
Ielosa. Ielos. She didn't need to be a linguist to figure out why Professor Jones looked like he could tear off the heads of a whole squadron of iil warriors without breaking a sweat.
She called Suzie and explained what was needed. The technician put her on hold, called the supplier, and together they placed the order. Suzie was her usual professional self, but Gwen could hear the excitement underneath. Order approved, she gave Suzie directions and hung up.
“Gwen!” Jack's call made her look up. “Come on!”
CHAPTER SIX: JACK
The elevator door opened on an alien landscape. The interior, which had obviously meant to be a suite of rooms, had been gutted. Glass bricks had been stacked to resemble crumbling towers. Air vines and other genetically altered greenery had been artistically draped to increase the feeling of a ruin. The curving wall that had once provided panoramic views of the bay had been covered with tapestries showing a view of a high plateau whose ocher slopes ran down to a sparkling green river. Beyond the plateau loomed high, forbidding mountains that seemed to smoke as the wind blew the snow off the peaks.
It took only a second for Jack to realize what he was looking at, but he was still a little slower than Owen. The t'Li wrapped his wings around Ianto, cocooning him and whistling what sounded even to human ears like a lullaby.
“What's wrong?” Gwen whispered.
“You two, come with me.” He stalked away to the other end of the room, where two large “ruined” walls blocked off a corner of the room. “This is a fairly accurate reproduction of a section of the ruins of the city of ieienaal. It belonged to a small clan collaterally related to the ielosa. About three hundred years ago, the city was overrun by troops not wearing a house sigil. The females past child bearing and all the males were slaughtered. The females in estrus were raped and impregnated. Traditionally that meant the clan and its holdings had become the property of the invaders, but the females refused to play by the rules. They tricked the men into leaving the city for one night, then, at sunrise the next morning, they blew up the city with themselves inside it. It was the first time in eeulinaali history that females took a public stance on political matters.”
“Political!” Gwen was about to explode. 'What is so damned political about gang rape?”
Andy put a hand on her shoulder. “Gwen, think. When you can tilt the balance of power in a whole planet with a single act, every act is potentially political.” He looked at Jack. “Life among the eeulinaali must be very nervous.”
“Indeed. The important thing to remember is that what happened at ieienaal had not happened for millennia. The Great Clan Accords kept the coup game within strict limits. The ielosa still have a bounty on the guilty clan.”
Gwen nodded towards Ianto, who was standing next to Owen, face pale and set. “There's more to it than that for him.”
“When Ianto was ten,” Jack said, “he traveled with his parents to ieienaal for his adoption ceremony. His mother was an archaeologist and she pointed out some things about the ruins that the ielosa hadn't known. There had been an official investigation at the time of the city's destruction but it hadn't identified any perpetrators. They were curious to see how much she could find out, so they hired her to excavate. She stayed behind with a bodyguard and Ianto and his father went back to the capital. Three days later the camp was attacked. Ianto's mother was killed and her body placed in a ceremonial nest of defilement, which is exactly what it sounds like. That's the kind of insult that will never be forgotten or forgiven.”
Andy gave a low whistle. “All right, then. We need evidence, the sort that'll stand up in court.” Jack watched as he meandered away, stopping here and there to peer at something and take notes. He needed someone like that. In fact, Torchwood needed both these Welsh cops.
“Do you think that the iil murdered professor Jones's mother?” Gwen asked quietly.
Jack pointed to the tapestries. “That plateau is the winter home of the ielosa. The name, by the way, means High Places Flyer. Those mountains are their true home. Anyone trying to take the plateau would spend every minute trying to look upwards. Even so, many have tried. It's one of the two most fertile places in the planet and harvests are excellent, year in and year out. The ielosa are not a large clan, but they are wealthy and powerful, and the basis for their wealth and power is that plateau. The iil, on the other hand, are also powerful and wealthy but they are land poor. All their wealth comes from making war on the other clans, and they have a history of finding quasi-legal ways of breaking treaties and taking what they want. Interestingly enough, it’s the ielosa who are more willing to adapt to the larger Universe. The iil want to return their culture to what they see as a perfect past.”
“Sounds like the earthfirsters,” Gwen muttered.
Jack laughed. “Exactly. Now, I need your eyes and your mind. Tell me what you see.”
“I don’t know much about the eeulinaali as a Culture. I could be way off.”
“So you could. Go ahead anyway.”
He watched as she took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. “It’s more than a hiding place. It’s where he can play out a fantasy. He wants to think of himself as a great warrior, swooping down on his inferiors and taking what he thinks is his by right of force. He might even have role-played here. See the scorch marks on those bricks over there? Those are new.” She bent over and touched her fingertips to a irregular splotch on the floor, sniffed them, then held them out to Jack. “Blood?”
He took a good whiff. “Yes.”
“So he has a partner or partners who play the game. But why? Humans play for so many reasons. Relaxation, companionship, obsession… and we usually put limits on the amount of physical danger we’re exposed to, well, except for those idiots who love climbing the Brecons in winter and such…” she turned to find the professor watching her, a slight smile on his lips. She blushed. “And you could probably do this much better than I could.”
“You’re doing fine,” he said. “eeulinaali play is actually very similar, both in kind and motivation, to human. Ambassador iilaaila'inali was well known for his interest in historical reenactment, although he was more likely to finance them than to participate.” He took out his phone and pressed one number. “Tosh? Can you get some work done or did my demons get you?... Angels? Please don’t lie to a father… Could you find out what the Ambassador was up to in the last three or four years? I’m especially interested in historical reenactments and female companions… yes, thanks.”
“So what is this all about, then?” Gwen asked him.
“You forgot one of the great motivators. Sex.”
Jack valiantly refrained from laughing at Gwen’s look. He kept out of Ianto’s way; the man was a born teacher.
“You mean this,” Gwen swept her arm in a wide circle, taking in the whole room, “is all so he could impress some female?”
“For millennia, the only certain way for a eeulinaal to get a mate was to win her in battle. What do you think?”
“But from what Jack said, this place was conquered and the females…” Her huge eyes grew even bigger. ‘Rape fantasy?”
He shrugged. “Why not? It’s a human kink too.”
“Ugh.” She looked around again, clearly trying to get herself under control. “So, he’s doing this to impress a female that wants to live out a rape fantasy? Or is it his fantasy and the female unwilling? Is it consensual or not?”
A low cough interrupted her. Everyone turned to look at Andy, who was leaning against one of the ruined walls. He looked, Jack thought, slightly green around the gills.
“Sirs? I have a question.”
“Brace yourselves,” Gwen said. “Andy’s questions tend to rattle the windows.”
“Go ahead, Andy,” Jack said.
“I understand how coloration works among the t’Li,” he nodded towards Own shyly. “But how does it work with the eeulinaali? Do all members of a clan share the same feather colors?”
“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” the professor said. “Families within clans share coloration, but a clan can have a large variety of colors within certain environmental limits. For example, the ielosa have a tendency to very pale hues across the color spectrum…” He stopped, looking at Andy.
“Better camouflage in the mountain snows?” the policeman asked.
“Very good. The iil tend to deep browns and reds…”
Andy held up a hand. “That’s what I thought. And if I were to see, say, a handful of deep brown-and-gold feathers with a pattern like veins?”
“You could confidently say that a member of the aaila family of the iil clan has been around.” His phone rang and he held up a hand, “Yes, Tosh?” As he listened his face shifted into what Jack had long ago christened the Ianto is going to happen to someone and not in a good way look. ‘Thanks, Tosh. That needs to be included in the file. Yes.” He smiled at Jack, a humourless smile filled with teeth. “The Ambassador has been traveling with his father’s widow, who is nominally chaperoning the Ambassador’s two nieces. If we can find any…”
“Sir,” Andy interrupted. “I don’t think you understand yet.”
He held out his right hand. Lying on the palm were three brown and gold feathers. “Maybe the t’Li Owen can tell us if they are those of an adult, but I don’t think so. Too… soft, feathery, if that makes any sense.”
Owen took a scanner out of his thorax-pouch and ran it over Andy’s hand. “Immature. No older than fifteen or sixteen eeulinaali years.” He stepped back, his wings folding tightly against his thorax in disgust. “Ianto…”
“Where did you find those, Andy?” Jack asked, even though he had a sick premonition that he already knew.
“In that little room behind the wall. It’s a… nest, I guess.” The Welshman suddenly looked like an avenging angel. “No wonder someone wanted to kill the bastard.”