GTHW 4/10
chapter four
Whether due to the isolation, the shared but unspoken elements of their pasts that had delivered them there, or the volatile environment of the planet outside, the inhabitants of the R-133-FT base had developed their own culture. Songs, stories, many books' worth of habits and superstitions. No corner of the Empire, it seemed, was spared the mix, and so Ianto gradually developed a familiarity, if unmistakably biased, with most of the civilizations of the time period.
The only common rule seemed to be: no mentions of their life before arriving at the planet. Myths were favored, for example, the more colorful the better - but nobody spoke of learning them at school, or at a grandfather's knee.
There was rarely a time when there wasn't a drill or a mission going on somewhere on the base, but somehow the men managed to congregate in one of the common rooms at least once a week. There was no plan, no set agenda. Just talk, and stories, and singing.
Some of the songs had a depth and scope that suggested they must have been handed down for years. Ianto had expected death to be a favorite theme, and was surprised to find that most of the songs were about home. Home, and rest, and probably a lot of these were references to death. Again, no mention of a specific planet, no reminiscences about Before, just dedications to the idea of home.
The most interesting pieces, to Ianto at least, were stories about the planet. At first, this seemed at odds with the unspoken rule about not including details, but Ianto realized that the whole point of that rule would be to stop the soldiers growing hope about leaving. Obviously, none of them were native to R-133-FT, and it was hardly possible to avoid discussing it when their whole existences were wrapped in it.
"We don't know anything for sure, y'know," said Wire, after he got pulled into a discussion about one of their squad's scavenging run. "Only that the colony failed. So we like to come up with stories for the little that's been left behind."
Ianto hadn't gone out, after the first time. The Captain still hadn't explicitly banned him either.
"Some of them are pretty good," said Varys. "Remember when Dree found that mask? Almost wanted to hide it in my bag. Most beautiful thing I've ever seen, even when covered with muck and scratched along the edges."
Alcohol was good for getting soldiers to talk, but it was often in short supply. There'd been newcomers, and new soldiers meant fresh supplies. If Ianto slipped his friends a touch more than they'd been rationed to have, he justified it to himself that it was for the cause of gaining more information, and it wasn't as if a little more alcohol was going to hurt them.
"The first time I heard about the Wake," Rum-Tum said, already beginning to droop, "I didn't believe it, you know?"
Varys made a small noise from the corner, where she presently had her tongue in Sera's mouth and one hand under the other woman's shirt. Next to them, Wire frowned in Ianto's direction, as if trying to remember something.
Ianto topped up his cup. He was nearly gone, anyway.
"Soldiers make up the craziest stories, it's part of the life," continued Rum-Tum. "It's usually the second time out, 's when it gets you. But sometimes it can take a few months. It's like, the Wake waits to see if you'll even live that long. Some don't. Remember that kid, Eyrie? Sweet kid. Rich family, but the parents died and the guardians didn't care. Burned him myself, after he took a bolt right in the head."
"How about you? Bet you took it better," prodded Ianto gently. Wire began to snore.
Rum-Tum snorted. "Almost had a meltdown. Everyone takes it different. I got kill-happy. The Captain understands, tolerates it to a point. Whatever they say about him, he's got a good man in there somewhere. Third time out, it stopped bothering me. It's either that, or you go mad. They say it's a disease, but I think it's the body's way of goin' mad, when folks can't cope with what they see. What the Wake shows them."
- - -
After Jack's explanation, Ianto understood better. Why the others would give him looks, sometimes, or the way they kept trying to make their excursions off-base sound harmless and fun, even though Ianto was the one who collected their bloodied suits and scratched weapons.
He had no idea how to bring it up. That he'd seen worse things, done worse, and likely paying for it now. There was no easy, or even comprehensible, way of saying, hello, I nearly destroyed the world a thousand years ago, and if it weren't for the heartless bastard that is your Captain now, I very likely would have condemned all of you to life as Cybermen.
(He wasn't an innocent, wrongly trapped on this planet, but a traitor among thieves.)
But he couldn't say all that, not in any way that would make sense. So he went and made coffee for everybody in Commons B instead.
- - -
"Yes?"
Ianto was fairly sure that the Captain could see who was outside his door; there were at least three security cameras covering the area, since command central warranted the highest level of security. But Jack had always preferred to be old-fashioned, and Ianto didn't doubt that some things could be deeper than memory.
"It's Knight, Captain. I've something to ask."
The door slid open. The Captain's expression was polite, mildly interested. Several screens floated around him, and the area of desktop under his hand had a virtual notepad.
"Yes?" prompted the Captain.
"The Wake," said Ianto. The Captain tensed. "I want to know what it is."
Ianto had prepared for an argument, if not a shouting-match. But perhaps the Captain had been expecting the request. He asked, only, "You're sure?" and then told Ianto to meet him outside the armory in four hours.
There was a kit waiting for him, and the Captain was already suited up. He was aware of the Captain watching him as he put it on, but whether it was simply to make sure that he was doing everything correctly or if he was watching for something else, Ianto couldn't know without asking. He was grudgingly allowed one plasma blaster, on the condition that he wouldn't try use it unless he had no other choice, and instructed to leave any fighting to the Captain.
The looks the soldiers at the wall sent their way gave Ianto the impression that the Captain did not normally provide personal escort to individuals on the outside. Instead of the large deployment area, they went to a small airlock.
"We will just be walking," the Captain's voice drifted over the comm device.
"That's fine," replied Ianto, more to test that the other man could hear him. He remembered the low visibility through the dust and wind, the sudden storms, the unsteady ground. "The Wake is not far?"
The Captain looked at him, the outline of his face barely visible through the visor. "The Wake is everywhere."
The airlock allowed for a more gradual transition, between the still coolness of the inside of the base and the insanity of the winds and dust outside. than riding the skater out of general deployment. At first, the side of the rock mountain buffeted the winds a little, so Ianto had time to remember the wide, even strides that Dree had once demonstrated to him.
"Good," said the Captain with grudging approval, only a few feet away but an indistinct blur already.
They walked for about an hour, just getting beyond the innermost ring of defenses. "We've taken what measures we can to lessen the effect of the Wake," explained the Captain, "I don't know if any of them really work, but it's best to go a little further out."
Eventually, they stopped. Ianto could just about make out the outline of the rock-mountain through the screen of dust and sand, looming over the landscape behind them.
The Captain only said, "Wait and watch" to Ianto's questions. Fine, but for what? Ianto was still not entirely sure what the Wake was. Something that frightened even grizzled veterans, drove people mad, made them sick. He entirely wasn't sure why he was willingly exposing himself to it; only, there had been a note of inevitability in Rum-Tum's voice, and he was the longest survivor, so Ianto had wanted to pre-empt it, to face at his own choosing the open secret that the others had been keeping from him.
Dust and sand and assorted debris made a sound like hard rain against his headgear. Soldiers' stories flooded his mind, always glorious with all the gory details that the life made one used to. He thought of the men who'd come out and lost their suits, their visors, their air purifiers. Slow and painful deaths, even when they were brought back to the base if the exposure had been long enough. And if not, they were burned, never just buried but burned, everyone said so like it was law-
Ianto flinched, stepped backwards. For a moment, there'd been a face- a shape moving towards him, lines in the dust- were they being attack? The Kriida, he couldn't remember what they looked like. But no, the Captain hadn't moved. The thought came- something's gotten to him, why is he standing still?- and bubbling up with it, a rising panic- but the Captain, Jack, couldn't die, though he wouldn't know that Ianto knew- panic, don't panic-
He forced his eyes closed, against every instinct screaming against it. He'd plug his ears, too, if he could, because the thunder of dust, sand, and wind, and the rumble of a distant storm, now carried something more, shrill high voices- Deep breaths. In, out, in, in, out.
"Does everybody see the same thing?" the sound of his own voice surprised him. He hadn't intended to speak.
"No," replied Jack. Well, it was Jack's voice. Jack, remember Jack. No harm pretending, if it'd keep Ianto from hearing the sounds. Like screams. "It's different from person to person. Worse in some areas than others." He sounded far away, at first, but Ianto focused on him and ignored everything else, and he slowly returned to normal volume, while the hissing and roaring brought by the winds abated. "It's the most dangerous when you're alone, so until they're touched by the Wake, newbies are never left alone when they go off-base. It's almost as dangerous in a crowd, because you often can't tell what's real, and soldiers are armed. Pairs are best, but give the watcher a strong, fully-powered shield, in case. Even then, sometimes the watcher forgets themselves, or they haven't been out for a long while and it's like the first time all over again."
"So that's why you do the scavenge runs?"
"Partly. It's dangerous either way, a fine line between too much exposure and too little."
Ianto assayed a look out of one eye. Dust, sand, and beneath that a bare rocky plateau. He opened the other eye, and looked around.
"Can't see anything anymore," he reported.
"That was fast," said the Captain, sounding surprised. "Are you sure?"
Are you sure?
Please, Jack. Need you, now, please.
Slow down, I've got you. Shhh. We have all night.
"Knight? Knight?"
Ianto realized that he was breathing hard into the comm. Embarrassment flashed like fire across his face and neck. "I'm okay! Um. Still not seeing anything I shouldn't, but I just heard- one of my memories."
"It's not uncommon. Is it over?"
"I think so." Even as he said it, the wind picked up. Over? Over? Calling to base. Power failure in Rose. Yegods, there are still people in there. Failure in Marigold. In Lily. Dahlia. Over. Over. Rose. Overoveroverover-
Ianto shook his head, then groaned. "Seeing things again."
"Take your time. I'm here with you. Just listen to the sound of my voice."
But these figures weren't dissipating, or fading in and out, like the first. "Just to check, could you look over due northwest? Right by the little flat outcropping."
"Ah." He didn't see the Captain approaching, and started when he felt the other man right against his back. "Those? Not hallucinations."
"Kriida?"
"Yup."
"Was afraid you'd say that."
No way of knowing if they'd been spotted yet, but the line of shapeless shadows appeared to be moving at a regular, if determined, pace. If they were heading for the base, the two men were directly in their way.
Ianto obeyed the sharp tug on his sleeve, orienting himself using his compass and making for the base as quickly as his heavily booted feet and the uncertain ground would let him. The Captain stayed a step back, catching Ianto when he stumbled, his presence a silent but persistent reminder to keep moving, faster.
Even so, they had barely passed the inner perimeter when the Captain suddenly shoved Ianto down onto the ground. Ianto, caught by surprise, couldn't quite catch himself. Pain flamed out from his left wrist, eliciting a sharp gasp. Shouting came from somewhere behind him. A series of plasma bolts zipped overhead, one landing close enough for Ianto to feel the heat as it melted a blob of barren ground.
He was not a natural fighter. He still remembered the helplessness he'd felt at Brecon Beacons, the breakdown that had been averted by Tosh's calm strength. That had been before he'd realized that there were other ways to fight and defend than the physical, and before he'd believed that there were people who'd come back for him.
It still irked, though, to lie down with his face in the dry dusty dirt while somebody else fought, took hurt, for him. Maybe he should try a few shots. Keep to the ground and crawl wide of the Captain...
He was yanked up to standing, as roughly as he'd been pushed down. The Captain shoved him in the direction of the base. Ianto managed a handful of steps before he realized that the Captain was not with him. Of course, the man's plan would be to hold off the enemy alone while Ianto got to safety.
Muttering curses under his breath, Ianto stomped back. His legs and back were on fire, from the uncommon exertion, but he thought he was getting the hang of the heavy wide boots and the constricting gear.
Later, he would not be sure why he did it that way. It had simply felt like the thing to do, and unexpected enough in the scope of their interactions so far that the initial surprise would give Ianto the upper hand, as it were.
The Captain was using his antiquated Webley. Ianto wasn't sure if this meant his blasters had run out or if centuries of using it had made the gun his weapon of first choice. Regardless, it left the Captain with one hand free, clenched into a fist down his side.
Ianto wrapped his fingers around the Captain's hand, and was surprised when the hand relaxed, his grip returned. He intertwined their fingers - because the ground was treacherous, that's all - and just ran.
He wasn't sure what he would have done if the Captain had not followed his lead, but there was one certainty that arose from the churning slush of fear and adrenaline: he would not have left him behind.
The base and its mountain seemed to appear all at once. One minute, all Ianto could see was dust and sand, the landscape a blur, and the next it was as if a screen had parted and the great mass of rock and camouflaged metal were in front of them. Ianto was dimly aware of shapes moving in the opposite direction, speeding past them, but he'd put too much into getting himself and the Captain to safety, and everything else seemed like unnecessary details.
He heard the Captain say something about the deployment doors, but Ianto headed for the airlock they'd used earlier.
The quiet inside the airlock was nearly overwhelming after the constant high winds and the unexpected attack. Ianto pulled off his headgear and took deep breaths, resisted the urge to crumple and sleep right there.
"Knight?"
Oh right, the Captain. Ianto turned his head and met clear blue eyes. Familiar, so familiar, especially now that they held a glint of... amusement?
"Quite a grip you have there," continued the Captain, conversationally. "Good running, too. Guess you're not just a civilian, after all."
It took several long minutes for Ianto to figure out what the Captain was alluding to. He looked down at their joined hands. His crushing grip must hurt, he was glad for the gloves. The Captain's returning grip was solid and sure, and he did not appear to be in pain. Ianto tried to release him at once, but his muscles had cramped; it took more deep breaths and Ianto forcing his body to relax before he could pry his fingers off, one by one.
- - -
Days and nights ran together, it was hard to tell them apart to begin with, and Ianto easily lost track. Many times he couldn't remember if a certain thing had happened recently or many sleep-wake cycles ago, or in what order.
A new batch of soldiers arrived - three men and two women. They were smoothly appropriated into the social structure of the base, but in a slightly different manner than Ianto, who'd come in as a civilian.
One of them, a nervous young man, was taken in by another group that frequented Commons B, and given the name River. Ianto had taken one look at him and thought, this one shouldn't be here. But he didn't ask for the man's story, since there was nothing he could do about it.
They were all in the Commons, and Ianto was in the middle of a conversation with Dree, when on the other side of the room came Oakland's booming laugh. It sounded mocking, and Ianto turned to see him sneering at River.
"You think you're goin' to be a hero now, kid?" River flinched. "There are no heroes here. You weren't sent here to get a second chance, redeem your soul, whatever it was they told you. Newsmen don't know what they're talking about, these days."
"Why are we here, then?" retorted River, face red. He suddenly looked young, far too young.
Silence greeted him; but the answer could be read on every face.
In the past, this had been the point where the newcomer would break down, launch into hysterics. To his credit, River did neither; he ducked his head, hiding his face, and went still. Then he gave a deep, shuddering sigh, and said nothing else for the rest of the night.
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