Peter Anghelides - Another Life

— we’ve seen that in the services, of course. “The invisible injury”, it’s called. Not a mark on you physically. But PTSD isn’t something the Army likes to admit to.

‘We spent the rest of the weekend at Guy’s apartment, out in Splott. Tony explained to us that we escaped because the alien ship was failing. Its crew was dying, and couldn’t stop us from escaping. And that’s when Guy Wildman had this crazy idea. That we could go back. Reactivate it, maybe. Or cannibalise it, at least.’

Owen was surprised to hear Megan laughing. ‘And that was the crazy thing, was it?’ She stared at Owen and Sandra, wide-eyed, mouth open, daring them to contradict her. ‘You are talking about alien ships as though they’re real. And you Owen, you’re just encouraging her! I don’t think she needs our medical attention, I think I should be calling the psychiatric nurse!’

‘Listen to what Sandra has to say.’

‘Going back there? Cannibalising this alien ship? Just popping back underwater to grab some extraterrestrial spare parts?’

There was a note of frustration in Sandra’s voice now. ‘With Guy Wildman’s professional contacts in the international scientific community, who knows what he could do? He certainly knew all about Torchwood, and didn’t want to involve them. He’d have found some way of selling the stuff on.’

‘Well,’ said Megan, ‘it doesn’t sound like the kind of thing you could stick on eBay, does it?’

‘You’d be surprised,’ muttered Owen, and waggled the Bekaran scanner at her. ‘It was only because Tosh was checking online for a pair of shoes that we first came across this thing.’

Sandra had sunk back into her propped pillow, like she’d received a physical blow. Owen reached out to touch her arm, a human touch to restore her confidence. ‘I understand, Sandra. Now trust me for a moment. I need to show Megan this. Lean forward, if you can.’

Sandra levered herself forward carefully. She started to part her hospital gown at the rear, but Owen stopped her. He beckoned Megan to watch while he passed the Bekaran scanner between Sandra’s shoulder blades.

‘Look at this.’

The screen image revealed the vertebrae in Sandra’s spine. But it wasn’t the grey murk of an X-ray that needed close study to properly decipher its contents. Not even the artificial colours of an enhanced MRI scan. This was eerily like a post-mortem image, but the vertebrae and discs were still moving naturally as Sandra stooped forward and breathed in and out. From the sides, the vertebrae looked like white cubes in the red surrounding flesh. From the rear, the bones resolved into the familiar saddle-shaped structures that straddled the off-white intervertebral discs. ‘See,’ urged Owen, ‘between T3 and T4, just to one side. Attached to the spinal column, but not within it.’

It was almost shocking to see. A sphere of metal, like burnished chrome, with a soft inner light somehow pulsing within it.

‘Not a bullet,’ he said quietly. ‘You’ve seen it for yourself, Megan. What is there not to believe any more?’

She looked like she might be about to cry. Seemed to shake herself a little, rolled her shoulders. Looked directly at him. ‘What do I do, Owen? I don’t know what to do any more. I don’t think I even know how to feel.’ She let him hold her close, and he felt her shiver against his chest. ‘Shouldn’t we take this to someone? Shouldn’t you have gone to the authorities, Sandra?’

Sandra settled into her pillow again. ‘You’re the one who said I needed a psychiatric nurse. What do you think the army would have said? PTSD, combat neurosis. And then kept me out of the way. The end of my career, whatever happened.’ She watched them both cautiously. ‘So I’ve come to you. To Torchwood. And I know what happened to Guy and… and Tony…’

She covered her face with both hands, and began to weep silently. Dry sobs heaved her shoulders. Owen put a hand gently on her arm, calming her, while he quietly explained to Megan about the deaths of Bee and Wildman.

‘So it’s over, then,’ Megan said. ‘They won’t be going back to this alien ship… I can hardly believe I’m just saying that…’

‘Neither can I,’ said Owen, jerking his head in the direction of Sandra, who he was still comforting as best he could. ‘Bedside manner?’ he hissed.

‘We have to go back to that ship,’ Sandra blurted out. There was a fresh urgency in her voice.

‘Steady,’ Megan warned her, and rose to check the monitors. ‘I’m amazed by your resilience, Sandra. You’ve had a gunshot wound, you’ve been in a pedestrian RTA that would normally result in major trauma. I know you’re a very fit soldier, but for anyone else I’d have been arranging a bed in ITU at best, and maybe a visit from the chaplain at worst.’ She was considering the evidence of the monitors in wonder. ‘Owen, could this thing in her spine be helping her, do you think?’

‘That’s why I have to go back,’ Sandra interrupted. ‘I want to get this tracer thing out of my back. And I can’t do that with conventional surgery here in the hospital, I could be paralysed. But you’re doctors. If you return with me to that ship, you could use the machine that inserted this thing to remove it again.’

Owen studied her thoughtfully. ‘That’s a thought.’

Megan was infuriated. ‘She’s still in no condition to travel. You heard how traumatic she said it was the last time.’

‘I have nothing to fear from capture now. I’m a trained soldier, I’ve recced the area already. And besides the aliens are all dead.’

‘And in this weather…?’ protested Megan.

‘It’s the alien vessel that’s causing these freakish weather conditions.’ Sandra grasped at Owen’s hand, the one that he had laid on her arm to reassure her. ‘Surely you could stop the ship? Save the Bay? I can take Torchwood there! Dr Harper, I’m at your mercy in so many ways here. But I want to help. You should contact your Torchwood colleagues.’

‘I think we can handle this.’ Owen patted her hand and released it. He looked at Megan and grinned. That familiar adrenalin buzz was kicking in, it was like his head was fizzing with an exhilaration that he thought had been gone for too long. ‘Megan, this is it. Your chance to see what Torchwood is all about. First-hand!’

‘It’s insane — crazy!’ squealed Megan. But he saw she was laughing too.

‘Crazy is what makes me feel alive ! C’mon! What’s keeping you here?’ He made a wild gesture that encompassed the room, the department, the hospital. That implied her whole life. ‘Why accept just this?’

‘Look at the weather,’ she protested feebly.

‘That’s my whole point. You’ve got to put up with the rain to get the rainbow.’

‘Oh, that’s lovely, Owen,’ said Megan sarcastically. ‘Now you’re quoting poetry at me?’

‘I’m quoting something I heard on Trisha , actually,’ admitted Owen. ‘But my point stands.’ He stood and watched her intently, his eyes urging her to decide.

Sandra made a decision first. ‘If you won’t help me, then I’ll have to do it for myself.’ She started to pluck the sensors from her body. As each sharp tug removed another one, the ECG machine flatlined and began to ping a warning. ‘I won’t stay here,’ insisted Sandra. ‘And you can’t make me. I’ll take my chances on my own.’

‘All right, all right.’ Megan hurried to Sandra’s side, trying to calm her at the same time as helping her with the sensors and wiping away the remaining conductive gel beneath them.

The examination-room door burst open as a nurse barged her way in. It was the short, thin girl, Roberta Nottingham. She was looking less eager now and more panicked. When she saw two doctors in the room, she slumped back against the wall in relief. ‘Sorry, Dr Tegg,’ she said to Megan. ‘I heard the ECG alarm went off.’