Doctor Who - 03 - The August Sky

.12. All Hands on Board

"From all around the world there are reports coming of damages caused by yesterday's blackout," said the broadcaster on the TV screen. "In Great Britain itself, the city of Cardiff, the Capitol of Wales, suffered serious damages to buildings and constructions in the Cardiff Bay area. Eye witnesses describe waves reaching..."

"Hello, Jack, is that you? Is this thing working? No, I can't see him, if I could I wouldn't ask. Jack? Jack Harkness, can you hear me?"

Jack rushed to the work station, pushing away piles of rubbish, blocking his way. He hit a few buttons on the keyboard.

"Prime Minister?"

"It's Harriet, Jack, and, are you all okay? I still can't see you... no, I can't, Phillip, there's no image, just voice... Sorry. Problems with equipment. Is everybody all right? Is the Hub okay? I hear there was damage..."

"We're fine," Jack answered. "Bit of a mess."

"Anybody injured?"

"No, we're fine, Harriet."

"Thank God! I was sick worrying. All the computers are on a frizz here, and you can't even imagine the phones. A nightmare. Sorry, I don't have much time..."

"Ask away." Jack smiled.

"Pardon?"

"You wanted to ask if it was us," Jack said. "The blackout."

"Hmm, well, yes," she coughed uncomfortably. "Yes, if we have to be so blunt about it. Did you do it?"

"No."

She sighed, obviously relieved.

"Good. But what was it then? I have experts here going out of their wits trying to explain that phenomenon, but all they provided so far is just a – if you'll pardon my language – a pile of poo."

"We don't know much more than what is obvious, Harriet," Jack rubbed the dark stubble on his cheek. "But... It may have something to do with the Doctor."

"I knew it!" There was a note of anger in Harriet's exclamation. "What was he thinking about? Can I talk to him, please?"

"He's not here."

"Oh... Well, then, I really have to go, Jack, but I will want to talk to him as soon as he comes back." She said it so matter-of-factly Jack couldn't suppress a grin. As if the Doctor were popping in for a visit every now and then, like a next door neighbour. Jack remembered the time when he was looking for the Doctor for centuries. The Doctor wasn't easy to find when he didn't want to be found.

"Yes, Prime Minister," he said nonetheless.

"Bye, Jack. And, oh, I'm glad you're fine... No, I didn't see anything, Phillip, there's just static, can't you..."

The call was disconnected, and Jack straightened slowly, still with a smile on his lips. He looked around at his team, all of them ragged and tired, trying to bring the Hub to a habitable condition again. He looked at Wilfred Mott, shocked and pale, sitting on the dusty sofa with Martha, and listening to the news intently. Then he looked down, at the debris under his feet and sighed noticing a rare alien plant lying there, broken.

"Was it bad in London?" Mickey asked, wiping sweat off his forehead. He leaned on a broom.

Ianto, who was watching the news, as he carefully sorted soaked documents, provided the answer: "Not as bad as in Cardiff. Just some minor tremors; and the lights went out for about five minutes. Actually, the whole world felt it. The whole world went dark. Well in America and Australia it was just for a second, just a blip."

"Deaths?" Jack barked, his smile gone completely by now.

"No reports so far," Ianto wrinkled his forehead. "Lot's of cuts and bruises, though. And the material damage is assessed at billions pounds already."

He turned up the volume on the TV. The broadcaster's voice was now coming off screen, as a montage of images appeared – destroyed houses, crowds on the streets, traffic jams, burning cars, people squatting at the airports, closed and demolished shops: "A panic at Heathrow airport reached its peak as the British Airways plane flying from Canada attempted landing in complete darkness and without help of any of the usual navigation devices..."

"We've been lucky this time," Martha said. "It could have been so much worse."

"So we look at the sky, me mates and I; and its not even Christmas, you know, the usual..."

"Ianto!"

"Yeah, sorry," Ianto switched the telly back to the news.

"The global community looks up at the sky in awe," the familiar American broadcaster concluded, "asking if we have seen the last of it."

"Well, have we?" said Rhys.

Jack, Gwen, Martha and Mickey, and even Wilfred, looked at him with deepest disbelief.

"Yeah," Mickey sighed. "As if..."

Jack shrugged. "All right, Wilfred, shall we go?"

"And where do you think you going, Jack?" Gwen asked immediately, as the elderly man got up from the sofa, squeezing Martha's hand in a warm "thank you" gesture. Rhys nudged his wife with his elbow, but Gwen glared ad Jack with usual intensity.

"Wilfred is moving to Windsor Esplanade," Jack said calmly. "His apartment is inhabitable at the moment."

"A nice, Victorian building," Martha said with a smile, "You should like it."

"I'll just say goodbye to Donna." Wilf smiled back, a sad, little smile without any real joy. "Are you sure you don't need me here? It is a bit 'all hands on board' in the Hub. I could help you tidying."

"Once you've settled, you're more than welcome," Jack answered.

"All hands on board," Ianto laughed. "I like it."

"And leave my office as it is," Jack said, in the door already. "I don't want you to misplace anything."

The Torchwood team sighed, rolling their eyes.

"Yes, Captain."

Ianto turned the volume up again: "No, I'm telling you, you 'aven't 'ear the whole truth yet, Peggy Mitchell; it's not over, it's not at all..."