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The Angel of Death (17/20)
Title: The Angel of Death (17/?)
Author: Emma
Characters: Jack Harkness, others
Rating: Starts PG. It didn't stay there
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?
Summary: Far in the future, Jack meets someone he never expected to see again
Author's Note: I don’t know where this came from. I really don’t.
Chapter sixteen is here; Chapter fifteen is here; Chapter fourteen is here; Chapter Thirteen is here; Other chapters here
Jack ran down one of the station's service tunnels with Marcus and Ianto a few steps behind. They could hear the whine of plasma rifle fire and the thudding of heavy boots as the miners fought the security forces in the corridors above them. Even louder than the human battle was the horrifying, bone-rattling sound of ships entering hyperspace much too close to each other as merchants and haulers panicked at the sight of two 456 ships looming overhead. The station rocked from the energy backwash, sending them carooming like billiard balls off the corridor walls. Someone with access to the main gyroscope controls had managed to keep the artificial gravity field from collapsing, but the sudden changes in weight made movement even more difficult.
The Toshiko had popped out of the Vortex on the Freemen side of the docks, sliding into an empty berth under cover of the mass exodus. Leaving navigation to Tosh, Jack scanned the communication channels. The whole quadrant was already buzzing. Someone had managed to send out an alarm before the 456 shut down the long-range comms. Panicked into action, the Klickshee had issued a general debt amnesty for first responders. The offer would flush a lot of rats out of the sewers, but Jack couldn't blame them; they had a lot riding on the viability of Freeman's Dream. Someone had a head on their shoulders, though, or maybe a sense of self-preservation. They had put their so-called rescue team under the command of the Lalande Habitats Armada – and the current Admiral of the Armada was one Blaidd Chesterton-Smith. Jack had a great deal of confidence on his gods-knew-how-many-greats-grandson.
It wasn’t until he made a third pass through the low-spectrum frequencies that Jack found the message: you’re needed at NavTech Main.
“Main says Lucken's got snipers at all the intersections down here. We're going to have to go up.” Marcus's low growl made the implant behind Jack's ear vibrate. The Zocalo is our best bet.”
Jack nodded and motioned him forward. As a child, Marcus had memorized the layout of the service tunnels and he had kept up with all the changes; on the other hand, Jack hadn't been on Freeman's Dream for over twenty years. A couple of sharp lefts and they were facing a blank wall with a rusty iron ladder clamped onto it. Jack looked up and grinned. He remembered this one. In fact, it had been his idea. Positioning an escape hatch right under the tailbone of the Founding Freeman's massive sculpture had amused him. Better yet, it was keyed to Jack’s own DNA, so it could be opened only by his descendants.
They clambered up the thin metal rungs. The hatch swung open at a single touch of Marcus's fingers. The opening was actually in the niche behind the statue, and the first thing one saw was a giant bronze arse. It was actually a really nice arse, firm and shapely under the tight regimental trousers.
“This was your idea, wasn't it?” Ianto asked, in the tone of voice of someone who already knows the answer. “I'm standing here ogling John Hart's arse, aren't I?”
“You are indeed, and he would have loved it. He had a thing about you.” Jack patted the curve of Ianto's right buttock. “Eye-Candy.”
“Shut it, you two.” Jack could actually hear the smirk in Marcus's voice. “We're going to have to go around that to get to the corridor leading to Main.”
Jack looked in the direction Marcus was pointing and winced. A mass of Freemen had congregated in the central square, and they were all armed to the teeth. They weren't completely disorganized; someone has posted guards at all the corridors leading to the living and working areas. Every once in a while some unwise security forces eager beaver decided to try his luck at getting past them and was picked out with a single shot.
“Not too bright, are they?” Ianto commented.
“Brains aren't necessary for security work.” Marcus replied absently as he looked about. “There.”
He was moving before Jack could say a word; shrugging, he followed, Ianto bringing up the rear. They managed to circle the outer edge of the mob, using the gaudy floor-to-ceiling banners that lined the Zocalo's outer ring as cover. Most of them were adverts for the Lower Zocalo brothels and quite, quite descriptive.
“I don't think a human body can do that,” Ianto whispered as he watched the holographic display in one of the banners. “Can it?”
“It can if it has several ribs removed and the spinal cord bone replaced with hyperflex,” Jack told him. “Some of the Outer Rim worlds go in for genetic engineering in a big way.”
A grunt of distaste was Ianto's only answer. In spite of his notoriously open mind, Jack agreed with him. Hypocrite that I am, he told himself, considering the man I love is a clone of the man I loved. Still, the idea of a human grown to serve solely as a sex machine gave him the creepy-crawlies. And Ianto was grown as an angel of vengeance for the human race. For me. After his purpose is achieved, what will happen to him?
He shook his head. First things first, and the first thing was to survive this mess.
They were almost to the other side when their luck ran out. “Harkness!”
Jack sighed. “It’s never simple.” He turned around slowly, keeping his hands limp at his side. “Hello, Hoyner.”
The miner twirled his baton. “You know what’s going on, Harkness?”
“Yeah. The Espinosas have sold Freeman’s Dream to the 456.”
Hoyner laughed. “For once, you’re the one behind the eight ball, Harkness.”
Jack felt more than saw Ianto start to move forward. He held out his hand. “Not this time, Ianto. See, I think somewhere inside all that hatred, there’s still a real freeman. Someone who wouldn’t think of selling babies to monsters, or steal the retirement funds of friends.”
“What are you talking about, Harkness?”
“I thought you knew. The Espinosas handed over Retirement to the 456. They’re going to use it as a breeding farm for humans.”
“You’re crazy!”
“One hundred and ten men,” Marcus said, his voice wiped of emotion. “Ninety-eight women, sixty-six of which are of childbearing age. Twenty of them are pregnant, by the way. Forty-three children, the oldest fourteen, the youngest two.”
Hoyner glanced at him briefly before turning back to Jack. “What’s he talking about?”
“He’s talking about the immigrants the Espinosas supposedly sold McPierce's Folly to. They received the co-ordinates to Retirement instead.”
“It has taken a long time,” Ianto moved to stand directly behind and to the left of Jack, “but the 456 are on the run. My people have chivvied them from one side of the galaxy to the other. They…”
“Your people?” Hoyner snorted. “Those fat, lazy fucks back in Lalande?”
Ianto smiled gently. “Jack lies sometimes. I’m not from Lalande.”
He stepped forward, hands held out to his side, palms up. Jack felt it before he saw it. Ianto changed. The beautiful young man fell away to be replaced by an incandescent being that could be nothing else than what he seemed to be. Heads turned as the mob realized there was a Power in their midst. Jack knew it was a projection of some sort, but he couldn’t even begin to calculate the energy levels needed to sustain it.
“You’re an angel,” the miner whispered.
“I am.”
Gantry hesitated for a moment and then stepped aside. “Go. We’ll keep the sec pigs off you as much as we can.”
Author: Emma
Characters: Jack Harkness, others
Rating: Starts PG. It didn't stay there
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?
Summary: Far in the future, Jack meets someone he never expected to see again
Author's Note: I don’t know where this came from. I really don’t.
Chapter sixteen is here; Chapter fifteen is here; Chapter fourteen is here; Chapter Thirteen is here; Other chapters here
Jack ran down one of the station's service tunnels with Marcus and Ianto a few steps behind. They could hear the whine of plasma rifle fire and the thudding of heavy boots as the miners fought the security forces in the corridors above them. Even louder than the human battle was the horrifying, bone-rattling sound of ships entering hyperspace much too close to each other as merchants and haulers panicked at the sight of two 456 ships looming overhead. The station rocked from the energy backwash, sending them carooming like billiard balls off the corridor walls. Someone with access to the main gyroscope controls had managed to keep the artificial gravity field from collapsing, but the sudden changes in weight made movement even more difficult.
The Toshiko had popped out of the Vortex on the Freemen side of the docks, sliding into an empty berth under cover of the mass exodus. Leaving navigation to Tosh, Jack scanned the communication channels. The whole quadrant was already buzzing. Someone had managed to send out an alarm before the 456 shut down the long-range comms. Panicked into action, the Klickshee had issued a general debt amnesty for first responders. The offer would flush a lot of rats out of the sewers, but Jack couldn't blame them; they had a lot riding on the viability of Freeman's Dream. Someone had a head on their shoulders, though, or maybe a sense of self-preservation. They had put their so-called rescue team under the command of the Lalande Habitats Armada – and the current Admiral of the Armada was one Blaidd Chesterton-Smith. Jack had a great deal of confidence on his gods-knew-how-many-greats-grandson.
It wasn’t until he made a third pass through the low-spectrum frequencies that Jack found the message: you’re needed at NavTech Main.
“Main says Lucken's got snipers at all the intersections down here. We're going to have to go up.” Marcus's low growl made the implant behind Jack's ear vibrate. The Zocalo is our best bet.”
Jack nodded and motioned him forward. As a child, Marcus had memorized the layout of the service tunnels and he had kept up with all the changes; on the other hand, Jack hadn't been on Freeman's Dream for over twenty years. A couple of sharp lefts and they were facing a blank wall with a rusty iron ladder clamped onto it. Jack looked up and grinned. He remembered this one. In fact, it had been his idea. Positioning an escape hatch right under the tailbone of the Founding Freeman's massive sculpture had amused him. Better yet, it was keyed to Jack’s own DNA, so it could be opened only by his descendants.
They clambered up the thin metal rungs. The hatch swung open at a single touch of Marcus's fingers. The opening was actually in the niche behind the statue, and the first thing one saw was a giant bronze arse. It was actually a really nice arse, firm and shapely under the tight regimental trousers.
“This was your idea, wasn't it?” Ianto asked, in the tone of voice of someone who already knows the answer. “I'm standing here ogling John Hart's arse, aren't I?”
“You are indeed, and he would have loved it. He had a thing about you.” Jack patted the curve of Ianto's right buttock. “Eye-Candy.”
“Shut it, you two.” Jack could actually hear the smirk in Marcus's voice. “We're going to have to go around that to get to the corridor leading to Main.”
Jack looked in the direction Marcus was pointing and winced. A mass of Freemen had congregated in the central square, and they were all armed to the teeth. They weren't completely disorganized; someone has posted guards at all the corridors leading to the living and working areas. Every once in a while some unwise security forces eager beaver decided to try his luck at getting past them and was picked out with a single shot.
“Not too bright, are they?” Ianto commented.
“Brains aren't necessary for security work.” Marcus replied absently as he looked about. “There.”
He was moving before Jack could say a word; shrugging, he followed, Ianto bringing up the rear. They managed to circle the outer edge of the mob, using the gaudy floor-to-ceiling banners that lined the Zocalo's outer ring as cover. Most of them were adverts for the Lower Zocalo brothels and quite, quite descriptive.
“I don't think a human body can do that,” Ianto whispered as he watched the holographic display in one of the banners. “Can it?”
“It can if it has several ribs removed and the spinal cord bone replaced with hyperflex,” Jack told him. “Some of the Outer Rim worlds go in for genetic engineering in a big way.”
A grunt of distaste was Ianto's only answer. In spite of his notoriously open mind, Jack agreed with him. Hypocrite that I am, he told himself, considering the man I love is a clone of the man I loved. Still, the idea of a human grown to serve solely as a sex machine gave him the creepy-crawlies. And Ianto was grown as an angel of vengeance for the human race. For me. After his purpose is achieved, what will happen to him?
He shook his head. First things first, and the first thing was to survive this mess.
They were almost to the other side when their luck ran out. “Harkness!”
Jack sighed. “It’s never simple.” He turned around slowly, keeping his hands limp at his side. “Hello, Hoyner.”
The miner twirled his baton. “You know what’s going on, Harkness?”
“Yeah. The Espinosas have sold Freeman’s Dream to the 456.”
Hoyner laughed. “For once, you’re the one behind the eight ball, Harkness.”
Jack felt more than saw Ianto start to move forward. He held out his hand. “Not this time, Ianto. See, I think somewhere inside all that hatred, there’s still a real freeman. Someone who wouldn’t think of selling babies to monsters, or steal the retirement funds of friends.”
“What are you talking about, Harkness?”
“I thought you knew. The Espinosas handed over Retirement to the 456. They’re going to use it as a breeding farm for humans.”
“You’re crazy!”
“One hundred and ten men,” Marcus said, his voice wiped of emotion. “Ninety-eight women, sixty-six of which are of childbearing age. Twenty of them are pregnant, by the way. Forty-three children, the oldest fourteen, the youngest two.”
Hoyner glanced at him briefly before turning back to Jack. “What’s he talking about?”
“He’s talking about the immigrants the Espinosas supposedly sold McPierce's Folly to. They received the co-ordinates to Retirement instead.”
“It has taken a long time,” Ianto moved to stand directly behind and to the left of Jack, “but the 456 are on the run. My people have chivvied them from one side of the galaxy to the other. They…”
“Your people?” Hoyner snorted. “Those fat, lazy fucks back in Lalande?”
Ianto smiled gently. “Jack lies sometimes. I’m not from Lalande.”
He stepped forward, hands held out to his side, palms up. Jack felt it before he saw it. Ianto changed. The beautiful young man fell away to be replaced by an incandescent being that could be nothing else than what he seemed to be. Heads turned as the mob realized there was a Power in their midst. Jack knew it was a projection of some sort, but he couldn’t even begin to calculate the energy levels needed to sustain it.
“You’re an angel,” the miner whispered.
“I am.”
Gantry hesitated for a moment and then stepped aside. “Go. We’ll keep the sec pigs off you as much as we can.”