Peter Anghelides - Another Life

The Weevil’s eyes were closed now. Ianto stepped back, breathless, dazed, relieved. A bit incredulous at what he’d just done.

Toshiko clambered back to her feet and brushed the dirt from her trousers. ‘Ianto. That was very impressive, but…’

‘But what?’

Toshiko took the device from his hand. ‘I’ve not seen this thing before.’

He took it back from her. ‘Something we scavenged from the wreckage of Torchwood One. It doesn’t last for long. Look, it’s discharged already. Useless now.’

‘It could be lethal.’

‘I suppose,’ Ianto said quietly. ‘Better her than you and me, though, eh?’

‘Not what I meant.’ Toshiko’s brow was furrowed almost as much as the Weevil’s. ‘You came equipped, Ianto. We didn’t know the Weevil was loose. You brought it because you thought you might use it on Owen.’

Ianto stooped down to grab the Weevil’s ankles, and dragged her back into her cell. Something tumbled from the pocket in the Weevil’s overalls and clattered onto the floor. ‘That explains a lot.’ Ianto showed it to Toshiko. ‘Owen’s mobile phone.’

‘He must have known we’d track him down with it,’ groaned Toshiko. ‘It’s not as if he was going to need it to call any of us. And he opened the cell because he knew if anyone turned up that the Weevil might turn ugly.’

‘She has a head start on the rest of us, that’s for sure.’ Ianto clicked the transparent front of the cell securely in place.

Toshiko was looking sadly at her expensive trousers. They were covered in slime from the dungeon floor. ‘I think I may kill Owen anyway. Attacking Gwen. Releasing the Weevil on us. Plus what he did with the firewall security…’

Her voice had trailed off. She’d even stopped fussing about her trousers. Ianto recognised that distant, pensive look in her eyes. ‘What is it?’

She grinned at him. ‘I have an idea.’

The ship rattled and lurched. The corridors stretched into a misty haze ahead of them, just as Gwen remembered. The same green-tinged gloom interspersed by brilliant flashes, the same gusts of hot, sour steam from half-seen vents along their route. When she’d struggled out of here with Sandra Applegate’s body, she’d hoped that was the last she’d ever see of this place. And good riddance to it, at that. There was a tight feeling in her chest now, and it wasn’t because she’d chosen a wetsuit that was a size too small. It was the fear of not knowing the first thing about this place that was constricting her breathing. She shrugged her shoulders to detach the diving cylinder, and dropped her mask next to it.

Jack clearly had no such worries. He was already marching down the walkway, ducking to avoid catching his head on the bizarre fronds and tendrils that curled from up in the ceiling.

‘This place is alive,’ he called back to her.

‘I know. I’ve never seen anything like it.’

‘No,’ he chided, ‘I mean, you didn’t turn it off when you were last here. We have to do that first. If we can find the controls.’

‘First?’ What else did he have in mind? He was already striding away again. Gwen hurried to catch up. Jack was taking this whole alien ship thing so calmly, as though he’d seen hundreds of them in his career. That couldn’t be true, could it? He wasn’t casual about it; she could tell that from the way he handled the harpoon gun as he made careful progress down the walkway. But he was measured, assured. His whole bearing told her that he considered a walk through an underwater alien vessel as routine as she would consider a uniformed search of a Butetown flat.

‘C’mon!’ called Jack from ahead of her.

She chased after him. The ship rocked and juddered erratically around them, and she struggled to keep her balance.

She caught up with Jack in the open expanse that contained the circle of suspended cages. He was still wearing his diving cylinder, with his mask dangled over his shoulder. He wriggled out of the scuba set, and placed the harpoon gun on the floor so that it was carefully pointed away from him and Gwen.

Jack studied the cylindrical block that squatted in the exact centre of the circle. Gwen didn’t see how he did it but, with a few deft movements of his fingers, he activated the cylinder. The top spiralled apart like a time-lapse film of a flower head unfurling its petals. Two softly illuminated hemispherical panels unfolded from inside, and presented themselves like a remorseful supplicant offering his open palms to Jack.

Gwen could see a dark patch at the base of the cylinder. It was where Sandra Applegate had died, and the odd green light of the room made the blood-stain look black. Beside it, her original torch was half-immersed in the last gluey remains of the pulped starfish, which retained only the faintest outline of its original shape. She pointed it out to Jack. ‘No need for your harpoon gun, after all.’

‘We’ll see,’ he replied. He was intent on operating the two panels in front of him. He continued to manipulate them for several minutes, until he stood back and folded his arms. He grinned hugely. ‘There ya go.’ Even as he was speaking, the buffeting movements of the ship were dying down.

‘What happened?’

‘Put it into reverse gear,’ he explained. ‘Not enough power left for a secure return, so it’ll tear itself apart as it heads back through the Rift. Still, the wreckage won’t be littering the Bay. And it’ll cause less damage around it than on its journey in.’ He nodded at the harpoon gun on the floor. ‘It’s like the barbs on that spear. Goes through more easily in the right direction. At the moment, it’s like the ship’s trying to go the wrong way, and that’s what’s causing all this local trauma.’

Gwen looked more closely at the hemispherical panels that Jack had somehow manipulated to control the alien ship. She couldn’t identify any switches or dials. All she could see were softly glowing areas of colour. ‘And you can just control it? As easy as that.’

‘It’s a Bruydac battle cruiser,’ he said. ‘Nothing too tricky here.’

‘Oh right,’ she said sarcastically. ‘Lucky for us that you passed your Bruydac driving test, eh? And that your licence is still valid.’

‘Told ya before, I don’t need a driving licence.’ Jack began to examine one of the suspended cages, exploring its innards with his fingers. ‘But I remember the lessons. Nice guy. Don’t know what happened to him, but he wrote for a while. Aha!’

The largest of the suspended cages was sealed shut. The cage glowed softly with an inner radiance. Its rich, translucent blue-green surface had a glassy lustre that reminded Gwen of Chinese ornaments. Jack leaned towards it and manipulated the front with a series of hand and arm gestures that looked like t’ai chi moves. With the hissing sound of a vacuum release, the front of the cage split in two and peeled backwards.

‘Now that is ugly,’ Jack said.

The occupant was a large humanoid. If it had stood, it would have been more than seven feet tall. In the caged frame, it sat in a scooped position, its knees slightly lifted and its long, filthy claws clutched near its chest, so that it appeared like a monstrously large foetus. Its bare skull had a ridge of bony protrusions that began at the bridge of its nose and continued over the back of the head. Its mouth was a gash in the bottom of its flat, cruel face, and it sucked in air with shallow breaths. Beneath its heavy, closed lids, the creature’s eyes were moving, as though it was dreaming. Tubing and wires were connected from its scarred torso into flickering shapes of light in the side of the cage.

Gwen found that she’d wandered in front of the suspended creature. She was fascinated and repulsed by it in equal measure. A hand on her shoulder moved her to one side. She twisted her head to see that Jack was weighing the harpoon gun in his hands, aiming the wicked spike at the trapped alien.