Fic: The Snocktor - Snockquel to ‘Snock Flock Reunion’
Title: The Snocktor - Snockquel to ‘ Snock Flock Reunion’
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Jack, Owen, Ianto, Tosh, Gwen, Snocks.
Rating: G
Word Count: 1607
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: One of the understairs snocks has developed worrying symptoms. Clearly it isn’t well and needs to see the snocktor…
Written For: Challenge 225: Amnesty at fan_flashworks, using Challenge 86 Health and Fitness.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Thanks to smallhobbit for inventing snocks and generously giving me permission to write about them!
Jack was playing with the understairs flock when he noticed something was wrong with his favourite snock, Patch. She seemed lethargic and uninterested in food, and when he stroked her fuzzy little head, he could feel even littler fuzzy bumps under what passed for her skin. That was worrying, so he did what any good parent would do when one of their little ones was under the weather; he took the ailing snock straight to the snocktor. Or the doctor, which in this case meant Torchwood’s resident medic, Owen Harper.
“Owen!” he called across the Hub.
“What?” Owen shouted back grouchily. He was still more than a little hung over from the night before and seriously not in the mood for… well, anything, really.
“Something’s wrong with Patch!”
“Something? That’s not exactly enlightening.”
“She’s gone all bumpy!”
Owen sighed heavily, hauled himself up from where he’d been slouched napping in his desk chair, and gestured vaguely in the direction of the medical bay. “Fine. Take your bumpy snock to my office and I’ll have a look at it.”
Wearily he trudged down the steps in Jack’s wake, stomping over to where Torchwood’s leader had laid the ailing snock on a clean cloth, so it wouldn’t get cold from the metal of the autopsy table. He looked at the small creature, but his eyes weren’t focusing properly so he plodded off to fetch his medical scanner and a magnifier so he could get a better look at the problem.
Snocks were usually lively and inquisitive creatures, but Patch just lay there, unmoving except for the occasional twitch. Owen ran the medical scanner the length of the little grey body and studied the readings, then examined the snock through his magnifier. Sure enough, all over the fuzzy body were tiny, equally fuzzy bumps. From the way Patch kept twitching, Owen deduced that the spots probably itched, which served to confirm his scanner’s diagnosis.
“Looks to me like Patch has chicken pox.”
“She’s a snock, not a chicken!” Jack sounded outraged.
“Humans get chicken pox, and they’re not chickens either.” Ianto, drawn by the commotion, leaned on the railings above the sunken medical bay, looking down at the patient, a concerned expression on his face. “For the sake of argument though, maybe we could agree she has snock pox?”
“Whatever,” Owen grumbled.
“What about the other snocks?” Tosh and Gwen joined Ianto at the railings, also looking worried. “If Patch has snock pox, at the very least the rest of her flock could be at risk of catching it as well.”
Gwen nodded, eyes wide and distressed. “Before we know it, we could have a whole flock of poorly, itchy snocks on our hands.”
That was a troubling thought. “Is there any way of preventing the other snocks catching it?” Jack asked.
Owen could see his relaxing morning slipping away from him. “I’ll take some samples from Patch and see if I can produce a vaccine. Should be easy enough.”
Thanks to some of the advanced alien medical technology he had at his disposal, creating a vaccine against simple viruses and bacteriological infections was perfectly possible. What wasn’t possible was to mass-produce sufficient quantities to do the human population any good, which grated on Owen. With enough resources he could cure the common cold, flu, and who knew what else, but aside from anything else, that would alter established timelines, which was a big no-no. Manufacturing enough pox vaccine to inoculate the relatively tiny, in numbers as well as in body size, snock population shouldn’t pose too many problems though, they wouldn’t need a big dose, and it wouldn’t cause any kind of paradox either.
“So we’re going in insnockulate all the snocks, are we?” Ianto asked, unable to resist the pun.
Despite his hangover, Owen’s lips twitched into an amused half-smile. “I suppose that’s one way of putting it.”
“Right then, if that’s the case it looks like we’d better do another snock roundup.” Ianto pushed back from the railings. “I’ll go fetch some containment boxes. Jack, I know you’re worried about Patch, we all are, but I think you’d better wash your hands and then round up the rest on the understairs snocks. They’ve been in close contact with Patch, so they’re the ones most at risk of catching the pox; you’ll need to see if any of them are displaying symptoms.”
“I suppose you’re right, but I can’t just leave Patch lying on the autopsy table. It’s such a long way up for a snock; what if she starts moving around and falls off the edge? She could get badly hurt, or even killed!”
Since the poorly snock hadn’t moved from where she’d been placed, that seemed unlikely, but nonetheless Owen fetched a small box lined with a sterile cloth. “Put Patch in here and I’ll keep an eye on her while I work on the vaccine.”
Hangover or not, Owen was first and foremost a doctor, and anyway, he had a soft spot for the Hub snocks; they were engaging little creatures and he wouldn’t want any harm to come to any of them, least of all one that was already suffering. He sympathised; he’d had chicken snocks, um, chicken pox as a kid and it wasn’t fun. Snocks couldn’t even scratch themselves to relieve the itching. Maybe calamine lotion would help. He’d have to check whether it would agree with snock physiology before trying it though. He input samples of snock tissue and calamine into one of his devices and set it working while Jack settled Patch as comfortably as he could in her quarantine box and left her to rest under Owen’s care.
Soon Owen was alone in the medical bay aside from one ailing snock, and except for the noises coming from the various pieces of medical tech he had running, everything nearby was peace and quiet, a relief considering the way his head was pounding. There were distant sounds from the rest of the team as they rounded up their flocks of snocks, but he paid them no mind, instead concentrating on what he needed to do in order to create a vaccine and prevent the spread of the pox among the rest of the Hub’s snock population.
Each flock of snocks was left in a containment box near its home territory to await insnockulation, as Ianto called it. The team washed their hands thoroughly after rounding up each flock, so there was no chance of spreading the pox between flocks in the event that any were already infected but not yet showing symptoms. They checked each snock for telltale bumpiness, but aside from two more members on the understairs flock, ironically the two Jack had named Itchy and Scratchy, the rest of the snocks appeared bright-eyed and healthy. Jack put the other two infected snocks into separate boxes and took them down to the autopsy bay, well away from the rest of their flock, where Owen handed him a bottle of calamine and some cotton buds and directed him to anoint the itchy snocks with it. That kept Jack busy for quite some time, there were a lot of tiny spots to treat, but at least the spotty snocks seemed more comfortable when he was done.
By early afternoon, Owen had what he hoped would prove an effective vaccine for snock pox, and the rest of his afternoon was spent giving every one of the snocks an injection. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone through so many needles; he’d have to order some more.
Even seemingly endless tasks had to come to end at some point, and several hours later he was done, the last snock put back in the containment box with the rest of its flock.
“Okay, that’s that. They’ll all have to be checked every day and any that develop spots will have to be segregated for treatment, but it looks like we caught it before it developed into an epidemic.” Owen flopped wearily into the chair at his workstation. “What a day! I just hope none of us get chicken pox now.”
“But haven’t we all had it?” Tosh asked. “I mean, once you’ve had it you can’t get it again, right?”
“In most cases,” Owen agreed, “but in rare cases it has been known to happen. Or if we’re really unlucky, we might develop shingles.”
“That would be just what we need.” Ianto’s tone was drenched in sarcasm.
“Not to worry, I’ve got a vaccine brewing that should protect us. Be ready in about an hour. Meanwhile, coffee? I’m parched.”
“We could all use one by now,” Ianto agreed, getting to his feet. “Should I order pizza as well since we skipped lunch?”
“God, yes!” Owen suddenly realised he was starving. His hangover had completely vanished at some point during the afternoon without him noticing.
Ianto pulled out his phone and they could all hear him ordering their late lunch as he made his way over to the coffee machine.
Jack disappeared down to the medical bay to check on the trio of quarantined snocks, while Owen logged on to his computer and began to type up his notes on the snock pox outbreak, treatment, vaccine preparation and administration. He’d update all the snocks’ medical records next, noting the vaccination date, which snocks had contracted the disease, and their symptoms. After everybody had eaten, he’d round up the team and get all of them insnockulated too.
Owen smiled to himself. Another string to his bow! Owen Harper, MD, Doctor of Alien Medicine, and Snocktor in Residence. It had quite a good ring to it!
The End
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Jack, Owen, Ianto, Tosh, Gwen, Snocks.
Rating: G
Word Count: 1607
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: One of the understairs snocks has developed worrying symptoms. Clearly it isn’t well and needs to see the snocktor…
Written For: Challenge 225: Amnesty at fan_flashworks, using Challenge 86 Health and Fitness.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Thanks to smallhobbit for inventing snocks and generously giving me permission to write about them!
Jack was playing with the understairs flock when he noticed something was wrong with his favourite snock, Patch. She seemed lethargic and uninterested in food, and when he stroked her fuzzy little head, he could feel even littler fuzzy bumps under what passed for her skin. That was worrying, so he did what any good parent would do when one of their little ones was under the weather; he took the ailing snock straight to the snocktor. Or the doctor, which in this case meant Torchwood’s resident medic, Owen Harper.
“Owen!” he called across the Hub.
“What?” Owen shouted back grouchily. He was still more than a little hung over from the night before and seriously not in the mood for… well, anything, really.
“Something’s wrong with Patch!”
“Something? That’s not exactly enlightening.”
“She’s gone all bumpy!”
Owen sighed heavily, hauled himself up from where he’d been slouched napping in his desk chair, and gestured vaguely in the direction of the medical bay. “Fine. Take your bumpy snock to my office and I’ll have a look at it.”
Wearily he trudged down the steps in Jack’s wake, stomping over to where Torchwood’s leader had laid the ailing snock on a clean cloth, so it wouldn’t get cold from the metal of the autopsy table. He looked at the small creature, but his eyes weren’t focusing properly so he plodded off to fetch his medical scanner and a magnifier so he could get a better look at the problem.
Snocks were usually lively and inquisitive creatures, but Patch just lay there, unmoving except for the occasional twitch. Owen ran the medical scanner the length of the little grey body and studied the readings, then examined the snock through his magnifier. Sure enough, all over the fuzzy body were tiny, equally fuzzy bumps. From the way Patch kept twitching, Owen deduced that the spots probably itched, which served to confirm his scanner’s diagnosis.
“Looks to me like Patch has chicken pox.”
“She’s a snock, not a chicken!” Jack sounded outraged.
“Humans get chicken pox, and they’re not chickens either.” Ianto, drawn by the commotion, leaned on the railings above the sunken medical bay, looking down at the patient, a concerned expression on his face. “For the sake of argument though, maybe we could agree she has snock pox?”
“Whatever,” Owen grumbled.
“What about the other snocks?” Tosh and Gwen joined Ianto at the railings, also looking worried. “If Patch has snock pox, at the very least the rest of her flock could be at risk of catching it as well.”
Gwen nodded, eyes wide and distressed. “Before we know it, we could have a whole flock of poorly, itchy snocks on our hands.”
That was a troubling thought. “Is there any way of preventing the other snocks catching it?” Jack asked.
Owen could see his relaxing morning slipping away from him. “I’ll take some samples from Patch and see if I can produce a vaccine. Should be easy enough.”
Thanks to some of the advanced alien medical technology he had at his disposal, creating a vaccine against simple viruses and bacteriological infections was perfectly possible. What wasn’t possible was to mass-produce sufficient quantities to do the human population any good, which grated on Owen. With enough resources he could cure the common cold, flu, and who knew what else, but aside from anything else, that would alter established timelines, which was a big no-no. Manufacturing enough pox vaccine to inoculate the relatively tiny, in numbers as well as in body size, snock population shouldn’t pose too many problems though, they wouldn’t need a big dose, and it wouldn’t cause any kind of paradox either.
“So we’re going in insnockulate all the snocks, are we?” Ianto asked, unable to resist the pun.
Despite his hangover, Owen’s lips twitched into an amused half-smile. “I suppose that’s one way of putting it.”
“Right then, if that’s the case it looks like we’d better do another snock roundup.” Ianto pushed back from the railings. “I’ll go fetch some containment boxes. Jack, I know you’re worried about Patch, we all are, but I think you’d better wash your hands and then round up the rest on the understairs snocks. They’ve been in close contact with Patch, so they’re the ones most at risk of catching the pox; you’ll need to see if any of them are displaying symptoms.”
“I suppose you’re right, but I can’t just leave Patch lying on the autopsy table. It’s such a long way up for a snock; what if she starts moving around and falls off the edge? She could get badly hurt, or even killed!”
Since the poorly snock hadn’t moved from where she’d been placed, that seemed unlikely, but nonetheless Owen fetched a small box lined with a sterile cloth. “Put Patch in here and I’ll keep an eye on her while I work on the vaccine.”
Hangover or not, Owen was first and foremost a doctor, and anyway, he had a soft spot for the Hub snocks; they were engaging little creatures and he wouldn’t want any harm to come to any of them, least of all one that was already suffering. He sympathised; he’d had chicken snocks, um, chicken pox as a kid and it wasn’t fun. Snocks couldn’t even scratch themselves to relieve the itching. Maybe calamine lotion would help. He’d have to check whether it would agree with snock physiology before trying it though. He input samples of snock tissue and calamine into one of his devices and set it working while Jack settled Patch as comfortably as he could in her quarantine box and left her to rest under Owen’s care.
Soon Owen was alone in the medical bay aside from one ailing snock, and except for the noises coming from the various pieces of medical tech he had running, everything nearby was peace and quiet, a relief considering the way his head was pounding. There were distant sounds from the rest of the team as they rounded up their flocks of snocks, but he paid them no mind, instead concentrating on what he needed to do in order to create a vaccine and prevent the spread of the pox among the rest of the Hub’s snock population.
Each flock of snocks was left in a containment box near its home territory to await insnockulation, as Ianto called it. The team washed their hands thoroughly after rounding up each flock, so there was no chance of spreading the pox between flocks in the event that any were already infected but not yet showing symptoms. They checked each snock for telltale bumpiness, but aside from two more members on the understairs flock, ironically the two Jack had named Itchy and Scratchy, the rest of the snocks appeared bright-eyed and healthy. Jack put the other two infected snocks into separate boxes and took them down to the autopsy bay, well away from the rest of their flock, where Owen handed him a bottle of calamine and some cotton buds and directed him to anoint the itchy snocks with it. That kept Jack busy for quite some time, there were a lot of tiny spots to treat, but at least the spotty snocks seemed more comfortable when he was done.
By early afternoon, Owen had what he hoped would prove an effective vaccine for snock pox, and the rest of his afternoon was spent giving every one of the snocks an injection. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone through so many needles; he’d have to order some more.
Even seemingly endless tasks had to come to end at some point, and several hours later he was done, the last snock put back in the containment box with the rest of its flock.
“Okay, that’s that. They’ll all have to be checked every day and any that develop spots will have to be segregated for treatment, but it looks like we caught it before it developed into an epidemic.” Owen flopped wearily into the chair at his workstation. “What a day! I just hope none of us get chicken pox now.”
“But haven’t we all had it?” Tosh asked. “I mean, once you’ve had it you can’t get it again, right?”
“In most cases,” Owen agreed, “but in rare cases it has been known to happen. Or if we’re really unlucky, we might develop shingles.”
“That would be just what we need.” Ianto’s tone was drenched in sarcasm.
“Not to worry, I’ve got a vaccine brewing that should protect us. Be ready in about an hour. Meanwhile, coffee? I’m parched.”
“We could all use one by now,” Ianto agreed, getting to his feet. “Should I order pizza as well since we skipped lunch?”
“God, yes!” Owen suddenly realised he was starving. His hangover had completely vanished at some point during the afternoon without him noticing.
Ianto pulled out his phone and they could all hear him ordering their late lunch as he made his way over to the coffee machine.
Jack disappeared down to the medical bay to check on the trio of quarantined snocks, while Owen logged on to his computer and began to type up his notes on the snock pox outbreak, treatment, vaccine preparation and administration. He’d update all the snocks’ medical records next, noting the vaccination date, which snocks had contracted the disease, and their symptoms. After everybody had eaten, he’d round up the team and get all of them insnockulated too.
Owen smiled to himself. Another string to his bow! Owen Harper, MD, Doctor of Alien Medicine, and Snocktor in Residence. It had quite a good ring to it!
The End