Human Rights 13
A game of cards started up between the other as Sam and Jack stood at the bar, but they declined an invitation to join in for the moment. “So what kind of aliens were they?” Sam asked. He was afraid what he would find out when he asked the important questions, and so kept to more general enquiries for the time being.
“We don’t know so much about the Thirsolanians, apart from what I told you. We suspect the humanoid form is a cover for their real shape.”
“Is that why they all look the same?”
Jack shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know for sure. Every individual seems like a clone of every other. But I’m hoping we’ll find out more when we question those two.” Then he leaned closer to Sam and spoke more softly. “But that isn’t what you want to know about really, though, is it?”
Sam shook his head, but didn’t meet Jack’s eye. “Can you tell me why I’m here?”
---
It seemed a good idea to get a table to themselves, despite the sniggers of Chris, who was clearly whispering something to Ray about them. Ray burst out laughing, but Sam hardly noticed their derision.
“Jack, you promised. Tell me!”
“OK!” Jack said indignantly, holding his hands in the air. “Have you ever heard that patience is a virtue?”
“Jack...”
“Alright, alright. I made some enquiries - my colleagues have equipment that measures Rift activity. Sam, did you have any enemies in 2006?”
Sam blinked. “Enemies? What are you saying?”
“You know, people who didn’t like you. Especially anyone you might have thought had access to suspicious levels of technology.”
“I... I don’t think so,” Sam said. “Are you saying someone is behind this? Am I... am I dead?”
“No, no, you’re alive!” Jack exclaimed, taking Sam’s hand as if it proved the fact. “You’re in the wrong time, but you’re completely alive. But yes, someone is behind this. It looks very much as though the Rift was manipulated - it was an anomalous pattern that we’d never seen before. And there isn’t usually much Rift activity in Manchester, that was why my colleagues looked into it.”
“So wait,” Sam said, trying to get his head round it. “You’re saying that there’s a... ‘rift’... that connects different times with each other, and people can be sent through it? And someone did this to me deliberately?”
“Exactly!” Jack smiled, but not unkindly. He liked Sam, a lot. And what he had to say to him was going to be devastating, so he was trying to find a way to delay it.
“But why? And... how?”
“There are no easy answers there. I’m sorry, I really am.” Jack paused. “I have an idea - why don’t you let me tell you a story?” He didn’t wait for Sam to consent, but went on. “There was this man, and he lived in the fifty-first century. He joined an organisation known as the Time Agency, and they issued him with a Vortex Manipulator, so that he could travel in time using only a wrist strap.”
“Is that true?” Sam put in. He was more or less willing to believe anything now.
“Every word,” Jack said. “So this man worked with the Time Agency for a while, but they double-crossed him, so he took the wrist strap and set up on his own. He was quite... loose in morals back then, so he used the ability to travel in time purely for his own ends. He made money and then gambled it all away, and he lived so fast. Then, one day, he met this guy...”
Jack had paused for so long that Sam was not sure he was going to continue. “You might as well finish the story,” he said, trying to sound as though he was not overly eager to hear it.
“This Doctor.” Jack’s eyes widened. “And he was the most amazing man he’d ever known. He was fantastic, gorgeous, a genius... and he made this man better. He showed him what mattered, and he made him a better person. But then, one day in the year 200,100 he just abandoned him. Left him behind without so much as a word. So the man wanted to find the Doctor again, and he managed to use his Vortex Manipulator for one last trip before it broke. But his aim was a little out, and he ended up in the nineteenth century.”
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Sam asked. “I mean, I saw you stabbed and you didn’t die, so...”
“Yeah, the man’s me,” Jack said. “Was it that obvious?”
“And you haven’t found the Doctor yet?”
Jack shook his head. “I look out for him, but it’s your time when I know I’ll find him again. Maybe 2006 maybe 2007, I don’t know. Not 2005, or I’ll end up crossing my own timeline...” He trailed off.
“I’m sorry,” Sam said, but the pity in Jack’s eyes was not for himself.
---
“G’night, Gov,” Sam shouted over to Gene as he and Jack went to walk out.
Amid some sniggers from the other poker players, Gene got up and went over to Sam. “Between you and me, Sam,” he whispered, “things are looking a bit suspicious between you and pretty boy. Best let him go and come and join us for a round of poker. People are talking.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “I’ve got some business with Jack,” he whispered. “I think he’s going to tell me more about Torchwood!”
“So you’re... undercover?” Gene raised his eyebrows. “I suppose that’s alright then.”
Just then, Jack came closer and clapped Gene on the shoulder. “I doubt I’ll see you in the morning, DCI Hunt. So I just wanted to say that I’ve enjoyed working with you. Torchwood will be in touch about that commendation...”
“I don’t need a commendation from a secret bunch of fairies,” Gene said.
Jack decided Gene’s words probably represented a grudging acceptance, and smiled. “Oh, and by the way - nice coat!”
Gene nodded. “Yeah, well yours isn’t bad either.”
“We don’t know so much about the Thirsolanians, apart from what I told you. We suspect the humanoid form is a cover for their real shape.”
“Is that why they all look the same?”
Jack shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know for sure. Every individual seems like a clone of every other. But I’m hoping we’ll find out more when we question those two.” Then he leaned closer to Sam and spoke more softly. “But that isn’t what you want to know about really, though, is it?”
Sam shook his head, but didn’t meet Jack’s eye. “Can you tell me why I’m here?”
---
It seemed a good idea to get a table to themselves, despite the sniggers of Chris, who was clearly whispering something to Ray about them. Ray burst out laughing, but Sam hardly noticed their derision.
“Jack, you promised. Tell me!”
“OK!” Jack said indignantly, holding his hands in the air. “Have you ever heard that patience is a virtue?”
“Jack...”
“Alright, alright. I made some enquiries - my colleagues have equipment that measures Rift activity. Sam, did you have any enemies in 2006?”
Sam blinked. “Enemies? What are you saying?”
“You know, people who didn’t like you. Especially anyone you might have thought had access to suspicious levels of technology.”
“I... I don’t think so,” Sam said. “Are you saying someone is behind this? Am I... am I dead?”
“No, no, you’re alive!” Jack exclaimed, taking Sam’s hand as if it proved the fact. “You’re in the wrong time, but you’re completely alive. But yes, someone is behind this. It looks very much as though the Rift was manipulated - it was an anomalous pattern that we’d never seen before. And there isn’t usually much Rift activity in Manchester, that was why my colleagues looked into it.”
“So wait,” Sam said, trying to get his head round it. “You’re saying that there’s a... ‘rift’... that connects different times with each other, and people can be sent through it? And someone did this to me deliberately?”
“Exactly!” Jack smiled, but not unkindly. He liked Sam, a lot. And what he had to say to him was going to be devastating, so he was trying to find a way to delay it.
“But why? And... how?”
“There are no easy answers there. I’m sorry, I really am.” Jack paused. “I have an idea - why don’t you let me tell you a story?” He didn’t wait for Sam to consent, but went on. “There was this man, and he lived in the fifty-first century. He joined an organisation known as the Time Agency, and they issued him with a Vortex Manipulator, so that he could travel in time using only a wrist strap.”
“Is that true?” Sam put in. He was more or less willing to believe anything now.
“Every word,” Jack said. “So this man worked with the Time Agency for a while, but they double-crossed him, so he took the wrist strap and set up on his own. He was quite... loose in morals back then, so he used the ability to travel in time purely for his own ends. He made money and then gambled it all away, and he lived so fast. Then, one day, he met this guy...”
Jack had paused for so long that Sam was not sure he was going to continue. “You might as well finish the story,” he said, trying to sound as though he was not overly eager to hear it.
“This Doctor.” Jack’s eyes widened. “And he was the most amazing man he’d ever known. He was fantastic, gorgeous, a genius... and he made this man better. He showed him what mattered, and he made him a better person. But then, one day in the year 200,100 he just abandoned him. Left him behind without so much as a word. So the man wanted to find the Doctor again, and he managed to use his Vortex Manipulator for one last trip before it broke. But his aim was a little out, and he ended up in the nineteenth century.”
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Sam asked. “I mean, I saw you stabbed and you didn’t die, so...”
“Yeah, the man’s me,” Jack said. “Was it that obvious?”
“And you haven’t found the Doctor yet?”
Jack shook his head. “I look out for him, but it’s your time when I know I’ll find him again. Maybe 2006 maybe 2007, I don’t know. Not 2005, or I’ll end up crossing my own timeline...” He trailed off.
“I’m sorry,” Sam said, but the pity in Jack’s eyes was not for himself.
---
“G’night, Gov,” Sam shouted over to Gene as he and Jack went to walk out.
Amid some sniggers from the other poker players, Gene got up and went over to Sam. “Between you and me, Sam,” he whispered, “things are looking a bit suspicious between you and pretty boy. Best let him go and come and join us for a round of poker. People are talking.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “I’ve got some business with Jack,” he whispered. “I think he’s going to tell me more about Torchwood!”
“So you’re... undercover?” Gene raised his eyebrows. “I suppose that’s alright then.”
Just then, Jack came closer and clapped Gene on the shoulder. “I doubt I’ll see you in the morning, DCI Hunt. So I just wanted to say that I’ve enjoyed working with you. Torchwood will be in touch about that commendation...”
“I don’t need a commendation from a secret bunch of fairies,” Gene said.
Jack decided Gene’s words probably represented a grudging acceptance, and smiled. “Oh, and by the way - nice coat!”
Gene nodded. “Yeah, well yours isn’t bad either.”