Lost and Found - Chapter Four
Unknown Time
Rhys Williams’ personal version of Hell
Every part of his body ached.
This was not, in fact, new; ever since he’d been dumped by the bloody Rift Rhys hadn’t felt quite right. However, this was different, and he groaned as he thought about all those poor bastards who’d been subjected to the mind probe before.
Then he realised who he was feeling sorry for, and stopped.
It had become standard procedure in the UK to have anyone wanting a sensitive position - be it with Torchwood, the government, SHIELD, or any number of high security offices - submit to the alien lie detector that Torchwood had had for ages. They’d learned a lesson with the fall of SHIELD, that anyone could claim to be on the side of the angels and it be a bald-faced lie. Use of the detector had started when Great Britain had opened its borders to friends, family, and agents of SHIELD; they’d needed to keep HYDRA out while helping those who really needed it. Yes, they’d gotten quite a few former SHIELD agents coming to work for Torchwood - and some went back to work for Director Coulson - but for every five innocents there had been at least one HYDRA agent trying to infiltrate some agency or another. Ninety-nine percent of HYDRA agents had been caught by using just the lie detector; but there had still been that one percent whose questioning had come out inconclusive.
Those were the ones who got to meet the mind probe. And of that one percent, Rhys thought there had only been one person who’s turned out to just be that good at defeating lie detectors, and he’d had no hard feelings about having been questioned that way if it had meant he was cleared to move on with his family.
Still, he’d taken the advice Jack had once given them all and hadn’t fought the questioning. He’d let out all of his secrets, but he wasn’t at all sure these beings even understood a thing he’d said. Maybe they’d thought he was faking being a foreigner, which Rhys supposed made sense, but certainly his performance under what could have only been construed as torture would convince them he wasn’t out to hurt anyone. That he was an innocent victim of a capricious space/time Rift that didn’t fucking care where it dropped a person.
Rhys had no idea how long he lay there, wallowing in his own misery. He would have given his left arm for a pint, and his right arm for fish and chips, he was that hungry and thirsty. He wondered if this time and place even had such things. Well, he certainly hoped so, because any time that didn’t have either he considered barbaric and a particularly terrible form of purgatory.
He continued to lie on his hammock even when he heard the door open. Not looking over, he muttered, “I hope this means it’s dinnertime, ‘cause I’m bloody starving,” knowing he wouldn’t be understood anyway.
“If you can wait until we get to our ride off this planet,” came a soft reply, “then I can guarantee it.”
Rhys sat up so suddenly he got dizzy, but that didn’t stop him from turning toward the voice. One of the natives stood there, looking very much like any other one he’d seen so far. “You can understand me?” he exclaimed, slinging his legs over the side of the hammock and almost dumping himself onto the floor.
The being put a finger to its lips then took something from a pocket in its trousers. It pointed it toward where Rhys knew the surveillance cameras were; there was a red light at its tip and it hummed, and the camera visibly shorted out.
Okay, he was either being rescued or Rhys had been drugged or something. He was really hoping for rescue.
The native reached up toward its neck, touching something there. Instantly, the being’s shape began to waver, and it vanished, revealing a human-looking girl dressed neck to foot in some sort of black, tight-fitting catsuit. She had short brown hair and blue eyes, a cleft in her chin, and she was smiling brightly. “Of course I have,” she answered. “You didn’t think we’d leave you here once we knew about you, did you?”
“And who’s ‘we’?” Rhys wanted to know.
The smile curved into a smirk as her eyes changed.
Rhys felt his mouth fall open as he found himself staring at a pair of slitted blue eyes.
Dragon eyes.
“Bloody hell,” he gasped as he tried to put it together.
“We need to get going,” the woman said, her eyes transforming back. “It won’t take them too long to notice I’ve destroyed the cameras in here.” She stepped forward, taking his hand in hers and pulling him to his feet with a strength only a dragon could have. “Here, take this.” She handed him a round disc the size of a pound coin. “This will disguise you as a native long enough to get us both out of here.”
He had so many questions to ask, but Rhys wasn’t stupid and knew he could wait for answers. Because his rescuer was obviously a dragon and as far as he was aware there was only one of those…well, two if he counted Jack, but he’d only been able to change shape the once, for that mating ceremony…
He took the disc and touched it to his neck where his rescuer showed him. “And who are you?” he managed to ask, as a warm feeling began to course from his neck to all throughout his body. He guessed the disguise was some sort of hologram or perception filter.
“I’m Sabrina, but you can call me Brina, Mr Williams,” she answered, turning her own device back on and becoming one of the natives once more. “The Director sent me because I speak old Earth English and I could prove that you could trust me.”
“That’s some hell of a piece of proof,” he muttered as she led the way out of the door and into the corridor beyond.
Brina closed the door after him, reengaging the lock. “I thought so,” she answered, the smile evident in her voice even as she moved away from the cell he’d been in. Her voice had a vague Welsh accent to it, but it was distorted by a certain American-sounding twang. “When we get out of here and into space, I’ll explain everything.”
Rhys was glad of that, but he could assume some things on his own. This young woman - well, she looked young, anyway - had to be related to Jack and Ianto in some way…at least Ianto, if she really was a dragon. Which meant he was definitely sometime in the future, although there was no telling how far that was and how far away from Earth he was. She also knew his name, which also had to mean that Torchwood was still out there somewhere, if her mention of a ‘Director’ was what he hoped it was.
He would bet any amount of money that it would be Jack, still in charge.
Not that he had any money to bet with, of course.
Rhys followed Brina through a rats’ warren of corridors. She seemed to know where she was going, so he trusted her as she took him away from the cell and into the main area of the structure he’d been imprisoned in. His body still ached, but he ignored it, adrenaline blanketing most of it making it so he could keep up with his guide. He knew he’d crash once he was safe, but for now he kept up, right on Brina’s heels, trying to pretend he was a native who had every right to be there.
They passed several others on their way, but they were pretty much ignored. The only attention they drew was from this one being who narrowed its eyes at them as they went by, as if it was trying to read their minds or something. Brina simply sneered at it, and it backed off its scrutiny.
Rhys was just thinking they were going to get away with it when they were stopped by a pair of guards wearing fancy uniforms.
Brina answered them, her voice irritated as she snapped out something in whatever language they were using. Rhys wished again for some sort of translation device, because he was getting sick and tired of not being able to understand anyone.
He simply stood there, praying that whatever disguise Brina had given him looked bored, which was what he was aiming for. The two guards looked at him suspiciously, but Brina managed to bring their attention back to her as she argued with them.
Their discussion didn’t last too long, and then Brina and Rhys were on their way again. He wanted to ask her what had just happened, because judging from the pair of guard’s faces Brina had given them a severe dressing down. He wondered just how she’d gotten so good at intimidating people, and then realised that Jack Harkness’ fine touch was at work in his rescuer, which just made him even more positive that Brina had at least a connection to Torchwood’s Director.
They crossed a wide foyer with obvious gun emplacements in equidistant points along both walls. It looked more like some sort of gauntlet than the exit from the building, and Rhys was getting goosebumps from those guns all pointing toward them as they made their way through the crowd and toward what had to be the front door.
This was a plan Jack would have been proud of…act like you belong and go out the front like you’re just one more employee.
And then they were out.
Rhys found himself in a wide area, built from some form of concrete and without a plant to be seen. People scuttled through the plaza, and if he wasn’t mistaken there seemed to be actual sniper nests up on the tall wall that bordered both sides.
Brina pulled him out into the foot traffic. “We need to get to the spaceport,” she said, “they’ve just discovered you’re gone.”
Rhys decided that she must have some sort of comm unit if she’d been able to find that out. “Won’t they expect us to go there? ‘Cause that’s where escaped prisoners would go, wouldn’t they?”
Brina didn’t stop moving, but she changed their direction. “You’re right,” she admitted. “I didn’t quite expect them to find out you were gone so soon. Which is why we’re going to use Plan B.”
“I’m so glad you have a Plan B,” he said fervently.
“That’s our Director,” Brina chuckled. “He has plans for his back-up plans.”
Now that didn’t sound like Jack at all, but Rhys knew Ianto was fond of planning. “Just who is your Director?” he asked suspiciously, doubting his initial guesses about just who had sent Brina to rescue him.
“I’ll be glad to explain once we shake the planet’s dirt from our boots,” she deflected. “Right now, two Andralan speaking an unknown language would be enough to draw attention to ourselves. The Andralan are one of the most paranoid races in the Empire, and the last thing we need is to make anyone suspicious of us.”
At least Rhys now knew the name of the race that had captured him.
Still, he wanted more answers, and Brina did have a point…drawing attention to themselves by speaking another language in public wasn’t going to get them off world. So, he bit his tongue and went along with her as she walked along the sidewalk, letting the crowd swallow them as they headed away from the building Rhys had just been liberated from.
He took a chance to get more of a look at his first ever alien world. The buildings around him were all shaped like Earth-type bunkers, with small windows and many with gun emplacements on their roofs or surrounding walls. They were all short as well, none that he could see were more than three storeys tall. There were no artworks or billboards or anything that would have relieved the monochromatic stone of the structures and from the uniformed and armed guards posted on every street corner Rhys could understand why Brina had called the Andralan paranoid.
It was so completely different from the field that he’d landed in Rhys wondered if he hadn’t been transported to another world while he’d been unconscious.
He glanced up at the sky, which was more purple than blue and had fluffy pale clouds scudding across. The sun was also bluer than Earth’s own sun and a bit glary as well. As he watched, a flying ship passed by overhead, with some sort of logo on it that he couldn’t read.
“Quit acting like a tourist,” Brina reprimanded, although it sounded more teasing than annoyed. “You’ll draw attention to us.”
She had a point. Rhys really wanted to rubberneck though; after all, it was his first time off Earth! He’d only ever seen another planet once, and that had been from a distance, back when the Earth had been stolen by the Daleks. This was so completely new to him that, even though he’d been put through hell ever since he’d arrived, he couldn’t help but be in awe of everything he was seeing.
Brina led him through town, and into an area that didn’t look quite as bustling and clean. Rhys figured this was one of the rougher sides of the city, and he stayed close to her as she headed deeper and deeper into the shadows. He trusted that she knew where she was going; she moved with purpose, and if there really was a Plan B then she had a destination in mind.
As they walked farther, the people they passed looked more and more dangerous, some bristling with weapons and even a sort of body armour. Rhys wondered where the guards were that had been so prevalent in the better parts of the city. Certainly they’d be on patrol around, wouldn’t they? If only to keep crime under control?
He really wanted to ask Brina where they were, but didn’t simply because he wasn’t in the mood to get gutted by one of those long knives several of the beings around them were carrying. The last thing he wanted to do was be murdered on a world far from his home before he could get the explanations Brina had promised. He really didn’t want to die ignorant.
They were stopped once, but Brina snarled at the Andralan aggressively, and that seemed to make the being back off. Maybe it was some sort of Alpha display, or maybe Brina was just that bad arse, Rhys didn’t know, but he was glad they weren’t blocked again.
Finally, Brina entered a grimy shop that stank of must and rot. Rhys followed, because he didn’t have a choice.
It was some sort of junk shop, as far as he could tell. It was dingy and dusty, unknown items on shelves that lined both walls along the narrow aisle. Brina strode toward the back and past a short counter, nodding once at the Andralan sitting there who was looking horribly bored.
There was a curtain across the back of the shop, and Brina pushed it aside, ushering Rhys into the back as if she’d been there before. Maybe she had; it made sense since she seemed to know her way around so well. The back room was cluttered and, if possible, even more dusty than the front, and she shimmied through the spaces between boxes and stacks of merchandise. Rhys followed, trying really hard to avoid knocking anything over. He might look like an Andralan at the moment, but the disguise only hid his natural bulk. He wasn’t fat; the life he’d led with Torchwood prevented anyone from getting into bad shape, but he’d still managed to keep the stockiness he’d had before he’d joined the team.
Brina left the store by the rear door, cutting down an alley that had Rhys fighting a bout of homesickness. Apparently dingy alleys were all the same galaxy-wide; all stinking and filthy and dark even during daylight hours. He halfway expected a Weevil to poke itself out from one of the rubbish bins that lined the slimy walls.
She ducked between two bins and entered another door, this one leading into what looked like a warehouse of some sort. There were literally walls of crates lining wide walkways, and Brina turned toward one singular stack that sat near the far corner.
Brina’s disguise faded away. “We’re fairly safe for the moment,” she said as she examined one of the crates.
Rhys turned his own disguise off, watching as his companion pushed her sleeve up, revealing what looked very much like Jack’s own wrist strap, only slightly smaller and newer. She flipped up the front, revealing a set of controls. Brina played around with a couple of very tiny buttons.
There was a beep, and the side of the large box opened, revealing a nearly empty interior. “Get in,” she urged.
“Bloody good thing I’m not claustrophobic,” he muttered as he did as she bid, almost stumbling over a pack of something he hadn’t been able to see in the near-darkness inside. He picked it up and slid down to sit, his knees up to his chest and the bag pressed up beside him.
Brina also got in, sitting opposite him as she closed them inside, her feet tucked up under the pack. “Plan B,” she whispered. “Hand me the pack, yeah?”
Rhys did so, and he could hear her rummaging around inside. “Here,” she pressed something into his hand. It felt like a bulb of some kind, made of a material that felt like a sort of plastic. “It’s water. You might need it.”
He felt along the bulb until he found the cap. Untwisting it, he took a drink of what was inside…and it was water, tasting better than anything he’d ever drunk before, even that local brew down at the pub near Harwood’s.
Rhys sipped at it slowly, not wanting to make himself sick by gulping it down. He also didn’t want to risk having to take a piss at just the wrong moment. “So, what’s next?” he asked, keeping his own voice down.
“My ride will come and pick us up,” she answered. “It might take a while, so drink up and try to get some rest. It’s not really safe to talk yet, but I do promise to explain everything once we’re off planet.”
It wasn’t the most comfortable place he’d ever been in, but Brina did have a point. Rhys was exhausted from his escape, and he was still sore from the mind probe and his forced trip through the Rift. All he really wanted to do was sleep and hope that the effects would be gone after a good nap. “You don’t happen to have some pain killers in there?” he took the chance to ask.
He heard more rustling, and a packet was handed over. “Then get some sleep.”
It was the best advice so far today. Rhys took the offered medication, washed the pill down with another sip of water, and then maneuvered himself into the best position he could.
Rhys was asleep before he even knew it.
Chapter Five
Rhys Williams’ personal version of Hell
Every part of his body ached.
This was not, in fact, new; ever since he’d been dumped by the bloody Rift Rhys hadn’t felt quite right. However, this was different, and he groaned as he thought about all those poor bastards who’d been subjected to the mind probe before.
Then he realised who he was feeling sorry for, and stopped.
It had become standard procedure in the UK to have anyone wanting a sensitive position - be it with Torchwood, the government, SHIELD, or any number of high security offices - submit to the alien lie detector that Torchwood had had for ages. They’d learned a lesson with the fall of SHIELD, that anyone could claim to be on the side of the angels and it be a bald-faced lie. Use of the detector had started when Great Britain had opened its borders to friends, family, and agents of SHIELD; they’d needed to keep HYDRA out while helping those who really needed it. Yes, they’d gotten quite a few former SHIELD agents coming to work for Torchwood - and some went back to work for Director Coulson - but for every five innocents there had been at least one HYDRA agent trying to infiltrate some agency or another. Ninety-nine percent of HYDRA agents had been caught by using just the lie detector; but there had still been that one percent whose questioning had come out inconclusive.
Those were the ones who got to meet the mind probe. And of that one percent, Rhys thought there had only been one person who’s turned out to just be that good at defeating lie detectors, and he’d had no hard feelings about having been questioned that way if it had meant he was cleared to move on with his family.
Still, he’d taken the advice Jack had once given them all and hadn’t fought the questioning. He’d let out all of his secrets, but he wasn’t at all sure these beings even understood a thing he’d said. Maybe they’d thought he was faking being a foreigner, which Rhys supposed made sense, but certainly his performance under what could have only been construed as torture would convince them he wasn’t out to hurt anyone. That he was an innocent victim of a capricious space/time Rift that didn’t fucking care where it dropped a person.
Rhys had no idea how long he lay there, wallowing in his own misery. He would have given his left arm for a pint, and his right arm for fish and chips, he was that hungry and thirsty. He wondered if this time and place even had such things. Well, he certainly hoped so, because any time that didn’t have either he considered barbaric and a particularly terrible form of purgatory.
He continued to lie on his hammock even when he heard the door open. Not looking over, he muttered, “I hope this means it’s dinnertime, ‘cause I’m bloody starving,” knowing he wouldn’t be understood anyway.
“If you can wait until we get to our ride off this planet,” came a soft reply, “then I can guarantee it.”
Rhys sat up so suddenly he got dizzy, but that didn’t stop him from turning toward the voice. One of the natives stood there, looking very much like any other one he’d seen so far. “You can understand me?” he exclaimed, slinging his legs over the side of the hammock and almost dumping himself onto the floor.
The being put a finger to its lips then took something from a pocket in its trousers. It pointed it toward where Rhys knew the surveillance cameras were; there was a red light at its tip and it hummed, and the camera visibly shorted out.
Okay, he was either being rescued or Rhys had been drugged or something. He was really hoping for rescue.
The native reached up toward its neck, touching something there. Instantly, the being’s shape began to waver, and it vanished, revealing a human-looking girl dressed neck to foot in some sort of black, tight-fitting catsuit. She had short brown hair and blue eyes, a cleft in her chin, and she was smiling brightly. “Of course I have,” she answered. “You didn’t think we’d leave you here once we knew about you, did you?”
“And who’s ‘we’?” Rhys wanted to know.
The smile curved into a smirk as her eyes changed.
Rhys felt his mouth fall open as he found himself staring at a pair of slitted blue eyes.
Dragon eyes.
“Bloody hell,” he gasped as he tried to put it together.
“We need to get going,” the woman said, her eyes transforming back. “It won’t take them too long to notice I’ve destroyed the cameras in here.” She stepped forward, taking his hand in hers and pulling him to his feet with a strength only a dragon could have. “Here, take this.” She handed him a round disc the size of a pound coin. “This will disguise you as a native long enough to get us both out of here.”
He had so many questions to ask, but Rhys wasn’t stupid and knew he could wait for answers. Because his rescuer was obviously a dragon and as far as he was aware there was only one of those…well, two if he counted Jack, but he’d only been able to change shape the once, for that mating ceremony…
He took the disc and touched it to his neck where his rescuer showed him. “And who are you?” he managed to ask, as a warm feeling began to course from his neck to all throughout his body. He guessed the disguise was some sort of hologram or perception filter.
“I’m Sabrina, but you can call me Brina, Mr Williams,” she answered, turning her own device back on and becoming one of the natives once more. “The Director sent me because I speak old Earth English and I could prove that you could trust me.”
“That’s some hell of a piece of proof,” he muttered as she led the way out of the door and into the corridor beyond.
Brina closed the door after him, reengaging the lock. “I thought so,” she answered, the smile evident in her voice even as she moved away from the cell he’d been in. Her voice had a vague Welsh accent to it, but it was distorted by a certain American-sounding twang. “When we get out of here and into space, I’ll explain everything.”
Rhys was glad of that, but he could assume some things on his own. This young woman - well, she looked young, anyway - had to be related to Jack and Ianto in some way…at least Ianto, if she really was a dragon. Which meant he was definitely sometime in the future, although there was no telling how far that was and how far away from Earth he was. She also knew his name, which also had to mean that Torchwood was still out there somewhere, if her mention of a ‘Director’ was what he hoped it was.
He would bet any amount of money that it would be Jack, still in charge.
Not that he had any money to bet with, of course.
Rhys followed Brina through a rats’ warren of corridors. She seemed to know where she was going, so he trusted her as she took him away from the cell and into the main area of the structure he’d been imprisoned in. His body still ached, but he ignored it, adrenaline blanketing most of it making it so he could keep up with his guide. He knew he’d crash once he was safe, but for now he kept up, right on Brina’s heels, trying to pretend he was a native who had every right to be there.
They passed several others on their way, but they were pretty much ignored. The only attention they drew was from this one being who narrowed its eyes at them as they went by, as if it was trying to read their minds or something. Brina simply sneered at it, and it backed off its scrutiny.
Rhys was just thinking they were going to get away with it when they were stopped by a pair of guards wearing fancy uniforms.
Brina answered them, her voice irritated as she snapped out something in whatever language they were using. Rhys wished again for some sort of translation device, because he was getting sick and tired of not being able to understand anyone.
He simply stood there, praying that whatever disguise Brina had given him looked bored, which was what he was aiming for. The two guards looked at him suspiciously, but Brina managed to bring their attention back to her as she argued with them.
Their discussion didn’t last too long, and then Brina and Rhys were on their way again. He wanted to ask her what had just happened, because judging from the pair of guard’s faces Brina had given them a severe dressing down. He wondered just how she’d gotten so good at intimidating people, and then realised that Jack Harkness’ fine touch was at work in his rescuer, which just made him even more positive that Brina had at least a connection to Torchwood’s Director.
They crossed a wide foyer with obvious gun emplacements in equidistant points along both walls. It looked more like some sort of gauntlet than the exit from the building, and Rhys was getting goosebumps from those guns all pointing toward them as they made their way through the crowd and toward what had to be the front door.
This was a plan Jack would have been proud of…act like you belong and go out the front like you’re just one more employee.
And then they were out.
Rhys found himself in a wide area, built from some form of concrete and without a plant to be seen. People scuttled through the plaza, and if he wasn’t mistaken there seemed to be actual sniper nests up on the tall wall that bordered both sides.
Brina pulled him out into the foot traffic. “We need to get to the spaceport,” she said, “they’ve just discovered you’re gone.”
Rhys decided that she must have some sort of comm unit if she’d been able to find that out. “Won’t they expect us to go there? ‘Cause that’s where escaped prisoners would go, wouldn’t they?”
Brina didn’t stop moving, but she changed their direction. “You’re right,” she admitted. “I didn’t quite expect them to find out you were gone so soon. Which is why we’re going to use Plan B.”
“I’m so glad you have a Plan B,” he said fervently.
“That’s our Director,” Brina chuckled. “He has plans for his back-up plans.”
Now that didn’t sound like Jack at all, but Rhys knew Ianto was fond of planning. “Just who is your Director?” he asked suspiciously, doubting his initial guesses about just who had sent Brina to rescue him.
“I’ll be glad to explain once we shake the planet’s dirt from our boots,” she deflected. “Right now, two Andralan speaking an unknown language would be enough to draw attention to ourselves. The Andralan are one of the most paranoid races in the Empire, and the last thing we need is to make anyone suspicious of us.”
At least Rhys now knew the name of the race that had captured him.
Still, he wanted more answers, and Brina did have a point…drawing attention to themselves by speaking another language in public wasn’t going to get them off world. So, he bit his tongue and went along with her as she walked along the sidewalk, letting the crowd swallow them as they headed away from the building Rhys had just been liberated from.
He took a chance to get more of a look at his first ever alien world. The buildings around him were all shaped like Earth-type bunkers, with small windows and many with gun emplacements on their roofs or surrounding walls. They were all short as well, none that he could see were more than three storeys tall. There were no artworks or billboards or anything that would have relieved the monochromatic stone of the structures and from the uniformed and armed guards posted on every street corner Rhys could understand why Brina had called the Andralan paranoid.
It was so completely different from the field that he’d landed in Rhys wondered if he hadn’t been transported to another world while he’d been unconscious.
He glanced up at the sky, which was more purple than blue and had fluffy pale clouds scudding across. The sun was also bluer than Earth’s own sun and a bit glary as well. As he watched, a flying ship passed by overhead, with some sort of logo on it that he couldn’t read.
“Quit acting like a tourist,” Brina reprimanded, although it sounded more teasing than annoyed. “You’ll draw attention to us.”
She had a point. Rhys really wanted to rubberneck though; after all, it was his first time off Earth! He’d only ever seen another planet once, and that had been from a distance, back when the Earth had been stolen by the Daleks. This was so completely new to him that, even though he’d been put through hell ever since he’d arrived, he couldn’t help but be in awe of everything he was seeing.
Brina led him through town, and into an area that didn’t look quite as bustling and clean. Rhys figured this was one of the rougher sides of the city, and he stayed close to her as she headed deeper and deeper into the shadows. He trusted that she knew where she was going; she moved with purpose, and if there really was a Plan B then she had a destination in mind.
As they walked farther, the people they passed looked more and more dangerous, some bristling with weapons and even a sort of body armour. Rhys wondered where the guards were that had been so prevalent in the better parts of the city. Certainly they’d be on patrol around, wouldn’t they? If only to keep crime under control?
He really wanted to ask Brina where they were, but didn’t simply because he wasn’t in the mood to get gutted by one of those long knives several of the beings around them were carrying. The last thing he wanted to do was be murdered on a world far from his home before he could get the explanations Brina had promised. He really didn’t want to die ignorant.
They were stopped once, but Brina snarled at the Andralan aggressively, and that seemed to make the being back off. Maybe it was some sort of Alpha display, or maybe Brina was just that bad arse, Rhys didn’t know, but he was glad they weren’t blocked again.
Finally, Brina entered a grimy shop that stank of must and rot. Rhys followed, because he didn’t have a choice.
It was some sort of junk shop, as far as he could tell. It was dingy and dusty, unknown items on shelves that lined both walls along the narrow aisle. Brina strode toward the back and past a short counter, nodding once at the Andralan sitting there who was looking horribly bored.
There was a curtain across the back of the shop, and Brina pushed it aside, ushering Rhys into the back as if she’d been there before. Maybe she had; it made sense since she seemed to know her way around so well. The back room was cluttered and, if possible, even more dusty than the front, and she shimmied through the spaces between boxes and stacks of merchandise. Rhys followed, trying really hard to avoid knocking anything over. He might look like an Andralan at the moment, but the disguise only hid his natural bulk. He wasn’t fat; the life he’d led with Torchwood prevented anyone from getting into bad shape, but he’d still managed to keep the stockiness he’d had before he’d joined the team.
Brina left the store by the rear door, cutting down an alley that had Rhys fighting a bout of homesickness. Apparently dingy alleys were all the same galaxy-wide; all stinking and filthy and dark even during daylight hours. He halfway expected a Weevil to poke itself out from one of the rubbish bins that lined the slimy walls.
She ducked between two bins and entered another door, this one leading into what looked like a warehouse of some sort. There were literally walls of crates lining wide walkways, and Brina turned toward one singular stack that sat near the far corner.
Brina’s disguise faded away. “We’re fairly safe for the moment,” she said as she examined one of the crates.
Rhys turned his own disguise off, watching as his companion pushed her sleeve up, revealing what looked very much like Jack’s own wrist strap, only slightly smaller and newer. She flipped up the front, revealing a set of controls. Brina played around with a couple of very tiny buttons.
There was a beep, and the side of the large box opened, revealing a nearly empty interior. “Get in,” she urged.
“Bloody good thing I’m not claustrophobic,” he muttered as he did as she bid, almost stumbling over a pack of something he hadn’t been able to see in the near-darkness inside. He picked it up and slid down to sit, his knees up to his chest and the bag pressed up beside him.
Brina also got in, sitting opposite him as she closed them inside, her feet tucked up under the pack. “Plan B,” she whispered. “Hand me the pack, yeah?”
Rhys did so, and he could hear her rummaging around inside. “Here,” she pressed something into his hand. It felt like a bulb of some kind, made of a material that felt like a sort of plastic. “It’s water. You might need it.”
He felt along the bulb until he found the cap. Untwisting it, he took a drink of what was inside…and it was water, tasting better than anything he’d ever drunk before, even that local brew down at the pub near Harwood’s.
Rhys sipped at it slowly, not wanting to make himself sick by gulping it down. He also didn’t want to risk having to take a piss at just the wrong moment. “So, what’s next?” he asked, keeping his own voice down.
“My ride will come and pick us up,” she answered. “It might take a while, so drink up and try to get some rest. It’s not really safe to talk yet, but I do promise to explain everything once we’re off planet.”
It wasn’t the most comfortable place he’d ever been in, but Brina did have a point. Rhys was exhausted from his escape, and he was still sore from the mind probe and his forced trip through the Rift. All he really wanted to do was sleep and hope that the effects would be gone after a good nap. “You don’t happen to have some pain killers in there?” he took the chance to ask.
He heard more rustling, and a packet was handed over. “Then get some sleep.”
It was the best advice so far today. Rhys took the offered medication, washed the pill down with another sip of water, and then maneuvered himself into the best position he could.
Rhys was asleep before he even knew it.
Chapter Five