Risk Assessment (22 page)

‘My apologies, ma’am,’ said Bramwell, ‘but this is proving a complicated mechanism.’

George Herbert looked at Gwen’s phone. ‘It is a marvellous thing. Why, in my day, even the Torchwood Institute only had a single telephone. To think that you carry this around with you in a pocket. The uses must be endless.’

Gwen shrugged. ‘Mostly I just tell my husband I’m working late.’

‘Excuse me,’ coughed Bramwell. ‘Incoming.’

‘Are you getting a message, old chap?’

‘No sir,’ stated Bramwell. ‘I regret that there is incoming ordnance. It will impact the craft in—’

Gwen saw something hurtling towards them from the Earth and then a blinding, blinding light and the tearing of metal.

Agnes, Jack and Ianto stood on the beach, slumped in their bonds. They were very quiet and cold. zZxgbtl of the xXltttxtolxtol towered over them, heedless of the tide coming in and washing around his feet. If a tree could be said to gloat, he was gloating.

‘Now we will open the portal and destroy your world.’

XVII

THE CHIEF BUTLER RESIGNS

THE SEALS OF OFFICE

In which calling occupants of interplanetary craft becomes necessary

Gwen woke up to find she was lying on top of the Earth. It was spinning. Somehow, the rocket ship had listed alarmingly, and she was sprawled face down on the Observatory window, watching the planet rush up. She could hear the drilling of alarm bells and the crackling of flames.

Trying not to pass out from sheer vertigo, she rolled over, and hauled herself to where George Herbert lay, folded over a chair bolted to the floor. Which was now the wall.

All around her the craft shook alarmingly. We are falling, she thought. We are falling out of the sky. She wondered when it would be OK to panic. And told herself, no. Not yet.

George Herbert looked at her. There was a cut down one cheek. He used a word that Gwen thought had only been invented in the 1980s.

‘They fired on us!’ he cried. ‘We are in a lot of trouble.’

‘I’d gathered that,’ said Gwen.

‘There’s no need to shout,’ said George Herbert.

Gwen realised she had shouted.
OK,
she thought.
I have started panicking.

‘Bramwell!’ snapped George Herbert. ‘How are you?’

‘I am fine, thank you for asking, sir. I regret to inform you, however, that our engines have been destroyed and we will impact with the planet’s surface in under five minutes.’

‘Fine?’ Gwen mouthed at George Herbert.

He shrugged. ‘Any good news?’

‘Ah yes.’ The machine sounded as though it was manfully ignoring pain. ‘Now that we are considerably closer to the planet’s surface, I have obtained a signal on Mrs Cooper’s telephone. Reception is, you will be pleased to hear, getting better every second.’

Gwen had already snatched the phone out of its cradle and was dialling.

With a little effort and a hefty scratch to the wrist, Jack pulled the ringing phone from his pocket. The xXltttxtolxtol he was strapped to twitched menacingly.

‘Prayer stick,’ said Jack, quickly. ‘I’m communing with the dead.’

Mollified, the xXltttxtolxtol grunted.

‘Gwen! Great to hear your voice,’ Jack hissed, delighted. ‘Where are you?’

‘In a spaceship crashing into the Earth,’ she said. ‘Help!’

‘Ah, thought that might be the ca-case,’ Jack slurred slightly. ‘How’s space?’

‘Are you drunk?’ bellowed Gwen incredulously.

Over the phone, Jack heard an explosion. He frowned. ‘Tiny bit tipsy,’ he admitted. ‘We’re on a beach in Penarth that’s about to be overrun by an alien invasion force. We’re tied to trees and they’re pointing guns at us. Very big guns.’

‘Great,’ came the reply. ‘Well, if you’re lucky, I’ll land right on top of you.’

‘It’s shaping up to be that kind of day,’ said Jack ruefully.

Agnes snatched the phone off of him. ‘Mrs Cooper,’ she snapped. ‘Is George Herbert with you?’

‘Yes – and he’s fine. Although how much longer we’ll be able to. . . sorry? What was that? Look – I’ll call you back.’

Further down the beach, the portal had started to glow ominously.

Another explosion sent the rocket ship spinning.

Gwen screamed as she felt them plunge into a dive. George Herbert reached out a hand, yelling something at her over the thundering sound of tearing metal. Gwen listened to him very carefully, and then made another phone call.

‘Gwen!’ The relief was clear in Rhys’s voice. ‘Where are you? Where have you been? Why haven’t you phoned? Do you know how worried I’ve been?’

‘I’m in space!’ came the slightly thrilled, slightly panicky voice. ‘Where are you?’

‘Seriously? I mean, really?’

‘Oh yes. Proper rocket ship.’

‘I’m dead jealous.’

‘Oh, I know you are. That’s why I love you. Now, listen – are you near the Penarth Road?’

‘Well, a bit. In a van, helping clear up after that monster thing of yours. I tell you, filthy it is, my clothes are soaked in diesel. I swear I’ve broken the washing machine. Oh, Gwen, it’s just amazing to hear you—’

‘Yes, right, yes. Just. . . Look, can you do something for me?’

Gwen passed out briefly. She could feel herself being shaken to pieces. The only time she’d felt acceleration like this was when she’d got lifts to work from Angela Partington, who drove her Mini at 120 on the motorway.

Books toppled from the shelves of the Observatory, flame rising from some of them as they tumbled. All around her the ship was creaking dangerously. Loosened cables swung in the air, and smoke poured through ugly cracks in the bulkhead.

She rang Jack again. ‘Listen,’ she said. ‘No. . . not so good. But look, keep the line open, whatever you do. Help is on the way. Just keep the line open.’

‘What are you doing with your prayer stick?’ demanded zZxgbtl of the xXltttxtolxtol, snatching it from Jack. ‘This looks, in fact, like technology. Is it a signalling device?’

Jack shrugged. ‘Electronic Prayer Wheel. I’m waiting for an answer from the heavens. I’m very devout. Why, Ianto and I are always on our knees—’

‘Enough music-hall vulgarity,’ snapped Agnes. ‘Just take his little thing off him, if you must, zZxgbtl. What difference can it make?’

‘Exactly,’ sneered the tree. ‘Any reinforcements will be eliminated. The Earth will be crushed like a dry twig.’

‘Absolutely,’ said Agnes. ‘Considering this is your first invasion, you’re doing very well indeed.’

zZxgbtl threw Jack’s phone into the sand.

Gwen stared at the phone. ‘He’s gone! I can’t hear his voice.’

George clasped it to his ear. ‘I can just hear the sea,’ he said, and smiled. ‘Just like a shell!’

Gwen grabbed the phone and looked at the display. It said the line was still open. She hoped it was true.

George gently took the phone back from her. ‘There’s no time, I’m afraid, my dear. And Bramwell needs all the help he can get.’ He slapped the phone into the heart of a lash-up of wires and valves. ‘How are you doing, Bramwell?’

‘I regret to say, sir, that I am now feeling somewhat indisposed. However, my navigation systems are fixed on the homing signal. I am sadly unable to impede our progress.’

‘That’s fine, Bramwell. You’ve done very well indeed. And I will miss your company.’

‘It has been a pleasure serving you, sir.’

‘Farewell, my friend.’

George Herbert took Gwen’s hand and led her from the shattered Observatory.

Their progress through the rest of the ship was erratic, hampered by having to climb the wrong way up a ladder which was hanging out of a wall that was shaking itself to pieces.

Beneath them, the Earth and the sun whirled around the portholes as the ship spun and spun. The entire rocket was rattling, the windows clouding up with a red glow as they tumbled into the atmosphere.

Gwen had never dreamt that metal could be so loud. The air howled with the noise, and she became aware that she was surrounded by shaking, melting sheets of steel, held together with little more than rivets. She might as well have been in space in a tin bath.

The ladder they were clinging to jumped, bowing out of the wall, but they held on. Gwen could feel the rungs getting hotter under her hands, and she wondered how long she could hold on for before the burning made her let go. It was insane. Her first ever driving lesson and she’d reversed Dad’s car into a dry-stone wall. First time in a spaceship and she was crashing into the planet.

A piece of burning debris flew past them, and Gwen screamed. George joined in, and then they laughed at each other.

‘Ours isn’t a normal life, is it?’ he shouted.

‘Nope,’ yelled back Gwen.

And they carried on climbing.

A long way below them and on a beach a few hundred miles to the left, the xXltttxtolxtol had gathered themselves in front of the portal, and were beginning a strange victory chant.

The portal began to spill out a rippling light and tendrils of Rift energy speared out, each one latching onto a xXltttxtolxtol, rooting it to the ground. The bridgehead was established.

Through the portal could be glimpsed shapes, rank after rank of sinister, spiky shadows.

Gwen glanced out of a porthole. All she could see outside was fire and clouds, which meant that they were getting closer and closer to the Earth. She really wondered how this was going to work out. And what it would feel like if it went wrong.

George turned to her, offering her a hand into the egg-shaped shuttlecraft. ‘Come along, Gwen, dear,’ he yelled. ‘I think we’re cutting it a little tight.’

Gwen leapt, hearing the door slam shut behind her. It was a snug fit on the inside of the egg, all button-upholstered velvet. George hurriedly pulled a lever, and the egg spun away from the doomed rocket ship.

As they tumbled over and over, Gwen noticed that gravity had pinned a fresh plate and a neat pile of cucumber sandwiches to the floor.

Up on the deck of the doomed ship, Bramwell’s sensors noticed the departure of the shuttle with a sad regret, and then concentrated its dwindling resources on holding the rocket ship on a steady course to the planet below.

‘I don’t feel so good,’ groaned Ianto. ‘That rum. . .’

‘You drank it?’ laughed Agnes.

‘Why?’ murmured Ianto. ‘What was I supposed to do?’

‘Oh,’ said Jack loudly. ‘What with your head for spirits, I was just assuming you were pretending. We don’t want a repeat of the Christmas party. The poor lamb threw up over a Weevil. Waste of a great single malt.’

‘That was ninety per cent proof pure Bermudian,’ laughed Agnes. ‘I’m only sorry it’s gone. Warms the heart magnificently.’

The dawn sky was spreading swiftly over the beach, an Athena poster spread of peaches and cherry reds.

‘Shepherd’s warning,’ Agnes shook her head.

‘I know,’ sighed Jack. ‘I always knew it would rain on the last day.’

Then they all noticed one star still in the sky, a star that was moving towards the beach very, very quickly.

‘What?’ murmured Ianto, blinking.

They heard a roaring noise and the blaring of a horn. And there, tearing across the beach towards them was a white van.

Jack looked up at the sky, and then at the van, and then at the xXltttxtolxtol. ‘Gwen Cooper,’ he said, quietly and appreciatively.

‘Agreed,’ nodded Agnes and stepped away from her bonds, followed by Jack.

Ianto stared at them. ‘How?’ he gasped.

Agnes rolled her eyes. ‘Jack and I dissolved the tree sap with the alcohol whilst pretending to drink it. It also appears to have poisoned our captors. Harkness, free your Ganymede.’

The two of them reached over and started to prise Ianto away from his bonds.

The xXltttxtolxtol were just beginning to notice the approaching van when the air itself started to shake. They twisted around, trying to work out if it was the portal or not.

‘Look up!’ yelled Jack.

The xXltttxtolxtol looked up and saw the burning star hurtling towards the beach.

‘No!’ screamed zZxgbtl. ‘The portal!’ He and his troops twisted with indecision, but did not, could not move.

The van tore up to Agnes, Jack and Ianto. The side door was already open, and it didn’t even stop. Rhys’s face appeared at the window, yelling, ‘Get in, get bloody in!’

The van roared away, with its passengers folded in an untidy heap of suit, greatcoat and hooped skirt. As it reached the edge of the beach and the wheels began to spin hopelessly on the pebbled gradient soaked with diesel, the Torchwood Institute’s first ever rocket ship smashed down very neatly on top of Jack’s phone.

The resulting explosion ignited the beach, the xXltttxtolxtol, their portal, and the highly flammable remains of the Vam.

‘Howabout that then?’ boomed Rhys, delightedly. ‘That was some very nifty driving, even if I do say so myself.’