Torchwood FIc; Memory and Time (7/?)

[merucha]

Title: Memory and Time (7/?)

Author: Emma

Characters: Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones, 10th Doctor, Torchwood Three, others

Rating: Starts PG, but hey, it’s got Jack and Ianto in it!

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?

Spoilers: None. This takes place in my Homecoming AU, twelve years after Invincible Summer

Summary: Something is trying to mess with Jack’s time line…

Author’s Note: Jack's pseudonym is taken from the novels by Margery Allingham. Call it my own tribute to my own beloved 5th Doctor, Peter Davison, who played the part after he left Doctor Who.

Part one is here; Part two is here; Part three is here; Part four is here; Part five is here ; Part six is here

            The Ageroi transfer point station hovered on the stable Lagrange point between the twin moons of the Ageroi home planet. It wasn’t exactly beautiful, but its stark functionality had a sort of severe elegance. Six spokes radiated from a central structure. They were all surrounded with different-sized docking platforms. Five of the spokes ended in smaller structures. The sixth one ended in a secondary cluster of platforms.

 

            “Living environments. Oxygen breathers, high-heat methane breathers, zero-gees, cold-bloodeds, crystalines or gaseous,” the Doctor pointed in turn to each of the spokes. “The Ageroi prefer to live on their ships, so no habitats for them. Very efficient. Very Ageroi.”

 

            Beyond the station, the whole of space seemed to be taken up by a glowing red dust cloud that swayed and shifted as if caught in a stiff breeze. As it moved, stars, constellations, and even whole galaxies were revealed and concealed in an ever-changing display.

 

            “The Ageroi call it Ekha’ashina’khyrea.” The Doctor told her. “The closest translation would be The Dragon’s Breath.”

 

            “It’s beautiful,” Toshi said. “You could watch for hours.”

 

            “Some people do just that. A couple of religions have sprung up around the Dragon’s Breath.”

 

            The TARDIS sat under a rocky overhang on the surface of one of the moons, hidden from view by the station’s shadow. Toshi stood by the open door, the Doctor directly behind her. He had taken to doing that right at the beginning of the trip, which had taken a few hours rather than the few minutes she had expected. When she asked him about it, he had shrugged.

 

            “I give her the place and time, she decides how. Most of the time it’s instantaneous, but sometimes not. In this case I have a hunch she’s searching for Jack’s energy signature before she sets us down. The closer we are to the weak point in Jack’s time line, the less chance we have of doing damage ourselves.”

 

            She had accepted the explanation, ignoring the faint echo of laughter in her mind. With the TARDIS’s permission she explored all the places she had heard Uncle Jack and Aunt Martha talk about. It didn’t take her long to notice that the Doctor was, somehow, everywhere she wanted to be. At first she wondered if he was following her because he didn’t trust her, but then she realized that he seemed unconscious of what he was doing. She filed that little fact away as ammunition for the conversation she was planning to have with him as soon as they took care of Uncle Jack’s problem.

 

            “The station… most of the ones I’ve studied are built either on a moon or as an orbiting satellite to one. It’s the most efficient and least expensive method. Why would the Ageroi build a space station like this?”

 

            “Besides being efficient the Ageroi are very paranoid. In this location the station has no blind spots. Hard to sneak up on it. The moons are basically weapons platforms. Even if someone managed to take the station they would be blown to smithereens before they got around to making a single demand.” A loud, insistent pinging interrupted the flow of explanations. “Sounds like she found Jack.”

 

            This time it took only a couple of seconds to rematerialize in what was obviously a storage room. As they stepped out, the Doctor made some adjustments to his sonic screwdriver then swept the air in front of him in a big semicircle, stopping only when the screwdriver emitted a high-pitched whine.

 

            “This way.”

 

            Toshi followed him down a narrow corridor that ended in a discreet opening behind a decorative glass wall. Going around it, they found themselves in another corridor. This one was as wide as a four-lane motorway and was lined with what were obviously shops and restaurants.

 

            “So, airports look the same all over the Universe,” Toshi remarked.

 

            “Pretty much, yeah.”

 

            The Doctor took another, much more inconspicuous, reading with the screwdriver, then set out across the crowded corridor. Toshi almost had to run to keep up with him; at one point he came to a sudden full stop and she crashed right into his back. He waved away her apologies and pointed down yet another side corridor that ended at an airlock.

 

            “Observation deck,” he whispered. “It’s spectacular.”

 

            When they entered the long, narrow room Toshi had to agree. The roof and walls were transparent. Beyond them, the Dragon’s Breath seemed close enough to touch. There were several small groups clustered at one end. At the other, a young man in dark trousers, boots, and a leather jacket was leaning against the glass, eyes lost in the view. His perfect profile was set in relief, outlined by the seething red mass. It was Jack, a younger, cockier, harder version, but with none of the self-assurance and gentle playfulness her beloved uncle effortlessly projected.

 

            On the other hand, he was definitely one gorgeous specimen.

 

            “Hot. The man is hot.”

 

            “Stop it!” The Doctor admonished crossly. “Let’s focus on the job here.”

 

            “I can appreciate the view, Doctor.”

 

            His face took on that long-suffering look he often wore when dealing with Uncle Jack. “You may not be his genetic descendant, but you are definitely his kid. Let’s go talk to him.”

 

            “Oh, no, Doctor. I’m going to talk to him. You are going to play tourist and keep an eye out for Reapers or whatever those things were.” She held up a hand. “Save it, Doc. That guy would probably get all hard-assed about being told what to do by another man.”

 

            She left him stewing and made her way to the other side of the room. As she approached the younger version of her uncle Jack, she tried to ignore the gnawing fear at the pit of her stomach. They were going into it blind. They had no idea what Uncle Jack had done or not done; if they pushed in the wrong direction, her reality – her family, the people she loved, herself – would vanish because it would never have existed.

 

            “Hello.”

 

            The voice, she noticed, was still the same. “Hello.”

 

            He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “Albert. Albert Campion. You can call me…”

 

            “Rudolph. Should I inquire after Lugg’s health?”

 

            He shrugged, grinning wryly. “Just my luck to run into a scholar of ancient Earth literature.”

 

            “Not really. I have an uncle who is a big fan of Allingham’s work.”

 

            “Like I said, just my luck. “His smile grew a little more twisted. “It hasn’t been my fortnight.”

 

            “It’s none of my business, but I’m a good listener.”

 

            He put his hands in his pockets as he turned to stare at the shifting red mass overhead. “That’s the Gargoyle nebula showing right now. It has a scientific name, but that’s what they called it in my world.”

 

            “I get it. So, how about going somewhere for a cup of coffee?”

 

            “Have you ever had to do something you hated doing?” The question seemed dragged out of him. “Something so wrong it makes your gut ache?”

 

            “No.”

 

            “You’re lucky.” He turned back to her. “Will your friend object violently if we go off for that cup of coffee?”

 

            “Probably. Rudolph… I said it wasn’t any of my business, but you seem really troubled by whatever you did.”

 

            “I am, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m a soldier. It’s my duty.”

 

            “My uncle, the Allingham fan? He’s a soldier too. He says that a soldier cannot afford to pack his conscience away during his service. That there are things a soldier can’t do if he wants to remain human.”

 

            “There’s nothing I can do!” he shouted. “I already did it, and I can’t stop it!”

 

            “Rudolph, what did you do?”

 

            “Planted explosives in the Ageroi crèche.” He gave a bark of laughter so unlike the joyous sound Toshi was used to that it made her heart hurt. “My ship broke down on the other side of the Breath a couple of weeks ago. An Ageroi ship rescued me. In this area they go sublight, so it took the full two weeks to get here. I made good use of the time. I figured out the one weak link in their biological chain. Most species can afford to lose most of one generation and keep going. The Ageroi can’t. Each Ageri reproduces once and only once in its lifetime. The mating pair produces two fertilized eggs which are taken to the crèche and placed in stasis. When one of the mating pair dies, one of the eggs is stimulated into growth. One-one replacement. The post-reproductive Ageroi are all sterile and there aren’t enough immature Ageroi to have a viable generation. If the crèche goes, the Ageroi will be extinct in one hundred years.”

 

            “But that’s genocide! For God’s sake, why?”

 

            “The Agency believes the Ageroi are developing temporal weapons. They’re too dangerous!”

 

            “You have them.”

 

            “It’s not the same! We wouldn’t…” He ground to a halt. “Oh God, oh God.”

 

            “There must be something you can do!”

 

            “I can’t. The explosives are set to go off in less than twenty minutes. Short of having a time machine, I can’t get there in time!”

 

            “Ah. You may not have a time machine, but we do.” They had been so engrossed in their conversation that they had missed the Doctor’s approach. The Time-Lord made an “after you, Alphonse” gesture. “Shall we?”