#trevor baxendale

[siryl]

A preview of The Deadstone Memorial by Trevor Baxendale, scanned from Doctor Who Magazine #348. Art by Baxendale himself.

[regicidal-defenestration]

My opinions on Fitz Doctorwho Kreiner vary from "this guy sucks slash negative" to "this guy sucks slash affectionate". 4 chapters in to Coldheart and he's already fallen down a hole after trying to help the Doctor out of it so we're in the latter opinion at the moment

[eightdoctor]

eight would literally say “look at the cows” when driving by cows. he’s such a girl in this way

[crookedfivefingers]

I kind of love how the author rehashed this bit, further canonizing Ten's terrible manners+alien af penchant for eating jellies directly out of jars

From 'Wishing Well' by Trevor Baxendale (read for free)

[the-torchwood-archive]

Plant Life by Trevor Baxendale.

Something I find interesting about this story is how often I see people misinterpreting Jack's behaviour in it, especially at the end. They want some sort of relief from him. Some sort of intimate moment. But honestly, I like how it ends. There's no space for intimacy because he's angry with himself. Angry that he missed the signs of an alien invasion because he was too preoccupied with wanting to be soft with Ianto.

Almost letting the world end because you want to protect the person you love. To me that's better than a tender moment. It's very Torchwood. It certainly won't be the last time.

Full text is under the cut. This was a quick transcription, so let me know if I've missed anything.

Gwen skipped lightly through the Hub portal as it ground slowly open. It wasn’t something she did very often. There was usually something to worry about – a midnight text to alert her to an attempted alien invasion or some kind of extra-dimensional incursion through the Rift – and any step taken in the underground headquarters of Torchwood could be a step closer to death.

But not today. Today was different. Today was normal. Properly normal. And nothing was going to stop it being normal.

“Good afternoon,” yelled Captain Jack.

Gwen smiled to herself as she jogged up the steps to his office.

He was sitting back with his boots up on the desktop, a wide, gleaming white smile splitting his face in half, “Nice of you to show up for work today, Mrs Williams,” he continued. “That’s if you actually had doing any work in mind. You could just float around the place looking all love-struck and everything if  you’d prefer. It says in the rulebook you can to that in lieu of a honeymoon.”

“Cooper,” said Gwen, still grinning, “I’m keeping my name. Rhys has agreed.”

“Oh, he has, has he?”

“Yeah. Said it wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t Gwen Cooper anymore. Besides,” Gwen raised her left hand and waggled her fingers, “this says I’m a Mrs.”

“And what does that say?” Jack pointed a finger at the thing under her left arm.

She looked down as if surprised, “This? It doesn’t say anything. It’s a plant.”

“A plant.”

“Yeah. Spider plant. For the flat. I picked it up from the market this morning on the way in. Do you like it?”

She held out the spindly little plant for Jack to see. He straightened up, a slight look of repulsion on his movie star face, “Not keen on spiders.”

Gwen laughed, following him out of the office and down towards Tosh’s desk space. Toshiko was staring intently at the phalanx of glowing computer screens that constituted her workstation.

“Morning, Gwen,” she said without looking up. Reflections of the monitors flickered in her glasses, “How’s married life?”

“Fantastic,” Gwen told her, gleefully spinning Tosh around in her chair. She skipped after Jack, “I never knew you were scared of spiders.”

“I’m not. I said I wasn’t keen on them. We had a falling out on Janus Prime, spiders and me.”

“Well, this is just a plant, that’s all. No worries,” Gwen plonked the potted plant down on her desk and bounced into her seat.

Jack frowned, “I hope all this post-nuptial bliss wears off soon. I'll have to have a work with Rhys, get him to start leaving his dirty socks on the floor and toe-nail clippings in the bed.”

“Oh, he does that already,” sighed Gwen, “Like I said, no worries.”

“I’m nauseous.”

“I’m in need of coffee,” Gwen rapped on her desktop, “Where’s Ianto? A Monday Morning Special is required.”

“Tea boy’s in the Hot House,” said Owen as he emerged from the depths of the autopsy room.

“Don’t call him that,” Gwen chided, “What’s he doing in there?”

---------------

“My turn to water the plants,” explained Ianto. He was carefully pouring a plastic cup full of water into the soil of a pot plant, his face a picture of care and concentration. Ianto Jones approached every one of his duties with the same level of precision and commitment, whether it was making a cup of coffee or aiming a stungun at a weevil.

The Hot House was the team’s quiet area, a small place of tranquillity in the often frenetic environment of the Hub. It was warm and secluded, located in an angular glass pod overlooking the rest of the base.

Gwen turned away from her view of Jack and caught a glimpse of Ianto’s pinstripe through the foliage, “I thought this was Owen’s thing?”

“Well, I imagine he’s got other things on his mind right now,” Ianto responded, “What with being dead and everything.” He straightened up, observing his handiwork with a high achiever’s critical eye, “Besides, if it’s in the Hub, it’s my thing.”

Gwen walked along the rack of plants, letting her fingers play through the leaves, “These are all alien then, are they?”

Ianto shrugged, “Some of them are, certainly. Spores or seeds that have drifted in through the Rift. We plant them and see if they grow. Most die. There are some plants in the universe which don’t photosynthesise – and they find carbon dioxide poisonous. Others need specifically controlled environments,” he tapped the glass of a large blue bottle, “and ultraviolet light. Some only thrive in absolute darkness.” He knocked on the lid of a large black box. It was completely sealed and impossible to see into, “There’s something growing in here, allegedly.”

“How can you be sure?”

“We can’t. I call it Schrodinger’s plant.”

Gwen stooped to look at a small purple flower embedded in rich peaty soil on the next bench, “What’s this one called? It’s beautiful.”

“Nose Biter,” Ianto said flatly, “It’s carnivorous.”

Gwen jerked back as the jagged petals twitched.

“Not all plants are alien in origin,” Ianto continued as if conducting a tour, “Some come through the Rift from the future and the past. This one is from the Silurian era.” He indicated a large, bushy fern.

Gwen pulled an appropriately impressed face, although she had no idea what he was talking about. She looked at the specimen that Ianto had been watering so carefully when she came in, “And what about that one?”

“Ah, that’s my favourite.”

It was rather plain. Just a thin green stalk and a single, rather nondescript leaf. “Riight,” said Gwen.

“It’s really come on in the last few days,” Ianto explained, “It was practically dead last week. Owen as all for throwing it out, but I believe in giving everyone a chance.”

“Everyone?”

“Thing. Every thing.”

Gwen straightened up, bored. “It’s very nice.”

“All it needed was a drop of water. And a bit of patience.”

“Lovely,” Gwen turned her full beam smile on Ianto. “Any danger of a coffee this morning?”

---------------

Owen didn’t sleep anymore and spent most of his time pottering around the Hub. Captain Jack spent all of his time at the Hub; in fact, his sleeping quarters were located beneath his office, accessed via a salvaged submarine hatch set in the floor. Owen used to think it was just eccentric, but now he understood what it was like to have no life at all outside Torchwood. Or no life at all, full stop.

Nethertheless, no matter how early Owen checked, Jack was always up and washed and dressed before him and ready to greet the day with that big grin, “Morning!” Jack called from his office as Owen stalked up from the calls. He’d been inspecting the Weevil containment locks, just for something to do. He waved at Jack, who signalled back with a cheery flick of The Times. Somewhere above them a pterodactyl flapped lazily around the roof vault.

“Jack! Owen!” Ianto’s voice rang out from somewhere above them. Startled, Owen looked to see Ianto at the top of the spiral staircase leading to the Hot House. He was in his shirtsleeves, but still with a waistcoat and tie – what passed for early morning casual with Ianto.

“Hey, Ianto,” Jack yelled, “What gives?”

“New bud! New bud!” he cried, and then darted back into the Hot House.

Owen and Jack found him peering intensely at his plant – it had already become Ianto’s plant – and pointing, “Look! Just there. It’s a new bug. Isn’t that fantastic?”

They examined the plant. Sure enough, juts by the leaf, there was a tiny, shiny green bulge.

“I wonder where it came from,” Jack mused, “How far across the universe and how many centuries it’s travelled to get here and survive.”

“It’s doing well,” Owen concluded, “I’d almost given up on it.”

“You had given up on it,” Ianto said.

“Maybe I could run some tests,” Owen suggested, “Cross-check the cell patterns with the stuff in the archive. May tell us something.”

“There’s no need to waste your time on that,” Ianto said, “It’s here and it’s alive. That’s all that matters, surely?”

“It’s something to do,” Owen insisted.

Jack said, “Why don’t you check the archives anyway, see if you can find something that fits the description. Ianto can help. It’s going to be a quiet day after all. Tosh is off out and I’m tidying up some stuff with UNIT.”

But Ianto wasn’t listening. He was very gently pouring water into the pot around the base of the plant, watching the soil soaking it up.

Owen shrugged and headed for the exit, “At the double,” he sighed.

---------------

“Do you think it likes coffee?” Gwen asked.

Ianto shook his head, “I doubt it. Too many toxins. At the moment all it needs is water.”

“At the moment?”

“And love and understanding, of course.” Ianto added with a smile.

Gwen laughed gently, “You must have green fingers.”

“Hi there,” said Jack, strolling into the Hot House, “Thought I’d find you here. Everyone wants to know how Ianto’s plant is doing.”

“There’s another leaf coming through,” Ianto said proudly.

“Never a dull moment in Torchwood,” Jack said.

“It’s sort of cute, don’t you think?” smiled Gwen.

“That depends,” Jack replied, “on how much it takes Ianto away from his normal duties. Such as coffee.”

“Good point,” Gwen nodded.

“I’ll get you coffee in a moment,” Ianto assured them. There was a hint of abruptness in his tone that made Gwen and Jack pull a face at each other.

“I’ll get on with my work,” Gwen whispered, heading for the door.

“Yeah,” said Jack, “Me too.”

---------------

“Have you thought of a name for it yet?” Toshiko asked, powering her workstation down for the night.

Ianto school his head, “No pet names.”

“It seems silly not calling it anything,” Tosh insisted gently, “We ought to give it a name.”

“Owen’s been checking through the botanical archives to see if he can find a match,” Ianto said, yawning, “We’ll know what it is if he finds one.”

“You look tired.”

Ianto stretched, leaning back on the old settee, “I could do with some sleep, that’s true.”

“You’re spending all your time here,” Tosh said, “Nothing unusual there, I know. But you looked bushed. Jack won’t thank you for being too tired to work. It may be quiet now, but you know how it is around here. Anything could happen at any time. We need to be ready.”

Ianto dragged a hand down his face, “I know, I know. I’ll go home soon. I’ll just check on the plant first.” He heaved himself up and headed for the Hot House.

---------------

“Well, I don’t really see any harm in it,” Gwen said the next day. They were in the boardroom, Jack playing thoughtfully with a pencil. Gwen sitting on the next, Tosh next to her. Owen was leaning against the double doors.

“You think it’s a hobby?” Jack asked, unimpressed.

“Well, I don’t know much about hobbies.”

“Hobbies are for men,” Owen commented.

“Ianto doesn’t have any hobbies,” Jack said.

“He’s very fond of that old stopwatch,” Gwen said, her eyes full of innocence.

“That’s not a hobby,” Jack insisted.

“It’s only a plant,” Toshiko ventured, “What harm can there be?”

“He’s obsessed with the thing,” Jack said, his voice hardening.

“The plant isn’t poisonous, carnivorous, mobile, or intelligent,” Toshiko continued, “For all intents and purposes, just a plant. I repeat: what harm can there be?”

Jack swivelled around to face Owen, “Have you come up with anything on the database?”

“Nothing. The Torchwood botanical records go back over 100 years. There’s nothing on the computer, the microfiche, the ledgers or diaries that fits the description. We don’t even know what it is. We don’t even know,” he added meaningfully, “if it’s alien.”

“What do you mean?” asked Gwen, “I thought all the plants in the Hot House were extraterrestrial in origin, or at least from another timezone.”

“So we think,” Owen replied, “What proof do we have in this particular case? I should point out that there’s nothing that fits the description of the plant in any Earth records either, but I’ve only been looking for three days and it’s a big job.”

“We could take a cell sample,” Toshiko said, “Put it under the microscope.”

“Frankly, I’m surprised you haven’t done that already,” Jack cut in.

Toshiko looked momentarily fazed, unused to being reprimanded, even mildly. Jack had spoken softly, but he wasn’t smiling, “I – I just didn’t think it was necessary,” she said, “We’ve been busy with other things. I don’t see what the problem is – Ianto’s looking after his plant, that’s all.”

“She’s got a point, Jack.” Gwen agreed.

Jack sighted and threw his pencil down on the table top, signalling that the meeting was over, “Okay, back to work, people. I’m getting paranoid in my old age. Scat.”

They filed out, but he called Gwen back just before she left, “How did Rhys like the spider plant?” he asked.

She laughed, “Never even noticed it.”

---------------

The plant was looking very healthy. It was a good couple of centimetres taller, and possibly straighter, with two full leaves and the start of a new one. It wasn’t all that big, or even very special looking, but it now dominated the Hot House.

This was partially due to the fact that nearly all the other plants had gone.

Ianto had moved them out of the Hot House one by one. They were stacked on the steps of the spiral staircase and Toshiko had to climb very carefully through the foliage to reach the door to the pod. Inside, more plants had been moved to the floor on the far side, away from Ianto’s own little flower, and many of the racks had been completely cleared.

“Ianto…what’s happened up here?”

“Nothing,” Ianto grunted, straightening after placing the heavy glass bell jar containing who-knew-what by the door, “I’m just making a bit of space.”

“For what?”

“For the plant. It’s getting crowded. It can’t grow properly without light and space.”

Toshiko stepped into the Hot House, which now seemed very bare. Her voice echoed slightly against the glass walls as she spoke, “Does Owen know you’ve done this?”

“Owen?” Ianto repeated, “What’s his got to do with him?”

“Well, he sort of…kept this place going, didn’t he?”

“Owen’s got other things on his mind right now. As I think I have already pointed out.”

“And you?”

“What about me?”

“Jack says you’re obsessed with this plant thing,” Toshiko said carefully.

Ianto smiled, “He’s jealous.”

“Possible. You are giving it a lot of attention though. And it’s just a plant, after all.”

“He worries too much, and so do you. That’s your problem, Tosh. Too much worrying. Sometimes you’ve just got to do what’s right and ignore everything else.”

Toshiko was a little taken aback. She had never heard Ianto speak like this. He didn’t sound hostile, but there was something wrong. She took a deep breath and said, “I thought it was time we took a sample for investigation.”

He looked at her, and saw she was holding a microscope slide.

“You can’t,” he said.

“I only need a tiny piece,” Toshiko said, “I want to have a look at its cellular make-up.”

“You can’t,” Ianto repeated.

He said it simply, and with a smile, but Toshiko didn’t doubt him for a second, “All right,” she relented, “But I’ll have to tell Jack. He asked specifically. At the very least the plant needs to be catalogued, and we can’t do that without a cell sample.”

She left the Hot House, still holding the empty slide, while Ianto carefully added a few more drops of water to the plant’s soil.

---------------

“Hey,” Jack said from the doorway, “Need a break?”

“No thanks. I’m good here.”

“Kinda weird, though,” Jack said, leaning back against the glass that overlooked the rest of the Hub, He took a sip from his mug of coffee, “I mean, you sitting there like that. Doing nothing.”

“I’m not doing nothing,” Ianto stated. He didn’t look at Jack. His attention was fixed on the plant. It was all that was left in the Hot House now, with the exception of the swivel chair Ianto was sitting on, right in front of it.

“Right,” Jack agreed slowly, “I guess I missed that.”

“Yes,” agreed Ianto, “I guess you did.”

“The others are getting pretty worried about you.”

“There’s no need for anyone to worry. We’re fine.”

“We?”

“I’m fine. I’m fine, really.” Ianto looked up at Jack, “Really.”

“Okay,” Jack said. He sipped his coffee again and grimaced, “Thing is, we’re all drinking lousy coffee here now. This stuff is disgusting. Tastes like Sontaran dysentery. And believe me, that’s something you don’t want to taste twice.”

“There’s more to life than coffee.”

“What, really?”

“That’s all you think I’m good for, isn’t it, Jack? Making coffee.”

Jack grinned, “Well, I can think of a couple other things you’re good for.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Jack moved further into the room, keeping his hands in his pockets, casual, “Ianto, this has gone far enough. You need a break. You haven’t slept in two days. You haven’t shaved either. And you know what I  think of beard rash.”

“Bring me a razor and I’ll shave.”

“Sure. How about a change of clothes too? Because frankly, Ianto, you ain’t as fragrant as you used to be.”

“I’m not leaving. More important things to do in here.”

“Just for ten minutes, then. A comfort break?”

“Don’t need one. Haven’t drunk anything in the last twenty-four hours.”

Something crunched under Jack’s boot and he noticed some tiny pieces of broken glass glinting on the floor behind Ianto’s chair. He stepped carefully over them and leaned on the back of the chair. It creaked slightly but Ianto didn’t move. Jack took a deep breath, “Don’t you think this is all a bit…unusual?” Receiving no reply, Jack squatted down at the side of the chair, speaking softly, “Ianto…I need a cell sample from the plant. We have to check it out, see what makes it tick. I mean, we know it doesn’t actually tick. We just want to find out what it is, what it’s doing.”

“It’s growing. It’s a plant. What else would it do?”

“Well, we don’t know. That’s why we’d like to check it out,” Jack held up a slim rectangle of glass, “I’ve got a slide right here. Let me take a sample and I can get out of here, leave you and the plant alone together. How does that sound?”

No answer.

“Toshiko’s got the equipment ready to do. All she needs is a sample. How about it?”

Still no answer.

Jack moved towards the plant, extending his hand with the microscope slide. Ianto grabbed Jack’s wrist, fast as a rattlesnake. His knuckles were white, but his eyes were red – bloodshot, but wide and alert.

“Don’t touch it,” he hissed, “You can’t touch it!”

Jack tried to pull away, but Ianto held him in a surprisingly strong grip. They struggled against each other for a few seconds until Jack wrenched his arm free, “Goddamnit, Ianto, I’m not fighting you over a plant!”

“Then don’t fight me!” Ianto cried hotly, “Just leave me alone and everything will be fine. Can’t you see that?”

Jack stood up, breathing heavily, “What’s up with your arm?”

“What?” Ianto looked down at his arm, where the shirt cuff had been pulled away to reveal a series of sticking plasters on the white flesh, “Nothing. I had an accident, that’s all. I was moving one of the specimens and the jar broke. Cut my arm. It’s nothing.”

Jack glanced down at the fragments of glass on the floor, “You need to be more careful.”

“I’ll brush it up later.”

“I wasn’t talking about the glass.”

Jack tossed the slide down onto the floor and walked out.

---------------

There was no natural light in the Hub. The Torchwood base was located deep below ground, and there were no windows. It was sometimes impossible to tell the difference between day and night, and this made it very easy to lose track of time. To counteract this, and maintain some vague kind of biological clock, Jack found it useful to dim the lights in the evening, and then turn them right back up in the morning. Ianto had once likened it to life on a submarine. Jack had winked and told him that he’d once spent many weeks onboard a German U-Boat in World War Two, “Technically I was a prisoner of war, but we were submerged for a long time and, well, sailors are sailors the world over.”

That had been in the early days, when Ianto blushed easily, “They’re called submariners,” he’d muttered, “Not sailors.”

Jack smiled at the memory. There was always a hint of the pedant about Ianto. Underneath that soft exterior, there was steel. Very very people got to know that. Those that did usually regretted it.

“He’ll be okay,” Gwen said quietly, joining him by the circular window in his office which overlooked the Hub. It was gone midnight and the vase chamber was in semi-darkness. On the far side they could see the glow of the lights in the Hot House, and Ianto, still sitting there watching his plant, “We’ll find a way.”

“Sure. We could just storm in and drag him out if we wanted to,” Jack sighed, “That’s what Owen wants.”

“Since when did you take any notice of what Owen wants?”

“There has to be a better way, Gwen. I don’t want to hurt him”

“He’ll fall asleep eventually. He has to. That’s what the police do in siege situations. Wait long enough and they’ll just…nod off.”

“Ianto won’t. He’s tougher than he looks. And that plant’s got a grip on him. I don’t know how, but I’m going to bread that grip, Gwen. That I promise.”

“He’s moving,” Gwen said suddenly.

Ianto was little more than a silhouette, but he had got up from his chair.

They both ran out of the office, Jack leaping down the steps to the lower level while Gwen clattered along behind him. Eventually she grabbed his arm and pulled him to a halt, “Wait!” she hissed, “Don’t rush! He’ll hear us!”

Owen emerged from the cells, looked at Jack and Gwen, glanced up at the Hot House. He realised immediately something was up and shot a questioning look at Gwen.

She raised a finger to her lips, signalling caution.

Jack was already moving up the spiral staircase, as quick and silent as a jungle cat. Gwen followed, trying to match him. Automatically, she reached behind her hip for her pistol, only then remembering that it was on her desk. She glanced behind her, past Owen, and saw Tosh heading towards them as well, pausing only to collect her PDA.

In the Hot House, Ianto was bent over his plant. His shirtsleeve was rolled up past his elbow, and his forearm was extended. The plasters had been removed. There were deep cuts in the flesh, and the blood stood out stark and red against the white skin, running down his wrist. His fist was clenched so the blood came freely, trickling into the soil of the plant pot.

Jack stood in the doorway, transfixed by the sight. He felt as if he was intruding on an intensely private communion. Ianto was oblivious, his full concentration on the plant. As Jack watched, a thing proboscis emerged from the plant stem, extending like the tongue of a hummingbird towards Ianto’s arm. It burrowed into the wound, pulsing slightly as it lapped up the blood.

“Bastard!” Jack had seen more than enough, hurling himself across the room, wrenching Ianto away from the plant. Blood jetted into the air as he spun away, collapsing into the waiting arms of Owen and Gwen. They lowered him gently to the floor.

The plant actually hissed.

Jack swept it off the shelf with enough force to send it crashing into the far wall. The pot burst against the glass in a shower of dirt. The plant hit the floor, white roots writhing in the air, groping like a hundred fingers for the scattered soil. Two quick strides took Jack to where it lay. He raised his boot and crushed the plant flat, screwing his feel down until it left a smear of green and red across the floor.

Instantly, Ianto fell slack. His head lolled as Gwen tried to sit him up. Owen was already putting a field dressing on his arm, “Okay, Ianto, you’re all right. We’ve got you. You’re going to be fine.”

Toshiko scanned the remains of the plant with her PDA, “No life signs,” she reported, “Whatever it was, it’s head. And not before time, I have to say.”

Jack’s lip curled in disgust, “What the hell was it?”

“A plant,” Owen said, “Some time of telepathic species, perhaps, using mind control of the local fauna for protection. It used Ianto to look after it, protect it, feed it. He was nothing more than a slave.”

“He’s all right now, though,” Gwen assured him, “The moment you killed it, I felt him relax, like a puppet with its strings cut. He’s free of the influence.”

Jack turned to leave, “Get this place cleaned up. Get Ianto cleaned up. This room feels dirty now.”

Gwen rested a hand on his arm, “Don’t be hard on yourself. No one knew what to do for the best.”

“Except the plant?”

“It’s gone. We’re still here. Ianto’s still here.”

“What if we hadn’t been alert? What if it had reproduced, spread seeds, got out of the Hub? Imagine a whole planet with those things growing in every park and hedgerow. The human race could have been reduced to mindless slaves doing nothing but feeding blood sucking plants,” He shrugged, then looked back up at his people, This is our life, guys. This is Torchwood. We can’t relax. We can’t hesitate. We have to be ready.”

[dw-ebook-preservation-society]

Completed, well-formatted EPUBs for the

Eighth Doctor Adventures

Mega folder

(Latest update: July 31 2024)

00 - Doctor Who: The TV Movie - Gary Russell (blazingdynamo)

01 - The Eight Doctors - Terrance Dicks (blazingdynamo)

02 - Vampire Science - Jonathan Blum and Kate Orman (blazingdynamo)

03 - Body Snatchers - Mark Morris (blazingdynamo)

04 - Genocide - Paul Leonard (blazingdynamo)

05 - War of the Daleks - John Peel (blazingdynamo)

06 - Alien Bodies - Lawrence Miles (blazingdynamo)

07 - Kursaal - Peter Anghelides (blazingdynamo)

08 - Option Lock - Justin Richards (blazingdynamo)

09 - Longest Day - Michael Collier (blazingdynamo)

10 - Legacy of the Daleks - John Peel (blazingdynamo)

11 - Dreamstone Moon - Paul Leonard (blazingdynamo)

12 - Seeing I - Jonathan Blum and Kate Orman (blazingdynamo)

13 - Placebo Effect - Gary Russell (blazingdynamo)

14 - Vanderdeken's Children - Christopher Bulls (blazingdynamo)

15 - The Scarlet Empress - Paul Magrs (blazingdynamo)

16 - The Janus Conjunction - Trevor Baxendale (blazingdynamo)

17 - Beltempest - Jim Mortimore (blazingdynamo)

18 - The Face Eater - Simon Messingham (blazingdynamo)

19 - The Taint - Michael Coller (blazingdynamo)

20 - Demontage - Justin Richards (blazingdynamo)

21 - Revolution Man - Paul Leonard (blazingdynamo)

22 - Dominion - Nick Walters (blazingdynamo)

23 - Unnatural History - Johnathan Blum & Kate Orman (featheredgalaxy)

24 - Autumn Mist - David A. McIntee (blazingdynamo)

46 - Year of Intelligent Tigers - Kate Orman (featheredgalaxy)

52 - Mad Dogs and Englishmen - Paul Magrs (featheredgalaxy)

53 - Hope - Mark Clapham (blazingdynamo)

66 - Emotional Chemistry - Simon A. Forward (blazingdynamo)

67 - Sometime Never - Justin Richards (featheredgalaxy)

68 - Halflife - Mark Michalowski (featheredgalaxy)

69 - The Tomorrow Window - Jonathan Morris (featheredgalaxy)

70 - To Sleep of Reason - Martin Day (featheredgalaxy)

71 - The Dreadstone Memorial - Trevor Baxendale (featheredgalaxy)

72 - To the Slaughter - Stephen Cole (featheredgalaxy)

73 - The Gallifrey Chronicles - Lance Parkin (featheredgalaxy)

[6-and-7]

Any thoughts on which entities various Doctor Who writers would serve?

Hmmm... Never really thought about this, so have my early morning thoughts shot from the hip.

Moffat is probably End; as a showrunner, he might be Web, but so many of his individual stories deal with inevitable death. Chibnall is Lonely because of the yearning. RTD... maybe Desolation? because owie.

Lawrence Miles might be Web. Paul Magrs is definitely Spiral. Trevor Baxendale couldn't be more Flesh if he tried. John Peel is Slaughter. Robert Shearman is also Slaughter, but more effective about it.

[theeighthdoctoradventures]

What is Tumblrs EDA Ranking?

the EDA ranking tournament you’ve not been waiting for! this is not an elimination bracket! this is to determine a ranking of 1st to 73rd place.

ROUND ONE: POLL ONE

The Janus Conjuction by Trevor Baxendale

…vs…

Revolution Man by Paul Leonard

notes:

- this is just for fun! all pairings were randomly generated by a ranking website

- you can leave propaganda in notes and reblogs

- no books will be eliminated

- this is absolutely not a perfect way of ranking, i can’t be bothered to think any harder about this

[braveheartstoryteller]

I was tagged by the lovely Val, @sailforvalinor to list six books I want to read this year. Thanks friend! <3

Since I would like to read at least something this year, I shall endeavor to put together a list (this is out of my head, so no particular order):

Eight Cousins, and its sequel, Rose in Bloom - I loved Alcott's books as a kid. This one stands out in my mind, more so than Alcott's most well known book: Little Women. I need to go back and see just how much Alcott's stories and writing, has affected me as a storyteller and writer.

Harry Potter - No matter what one might say about JKR, you have to admit she made readers out of many kids with her exceptional world building. I have most of the books (save for the last one) and it might be time for a reread.

Beautiful Chaos by Gary Russell - While not my favorite Doctor Who novel, that goes to Fear of the Dark by Trevor Baxendale, Beautiful Chaos is a little bit lighter (actually no, a lot lighter, Fear of the Dark is as close to horror I will ever get) and a lot more fun than my favorite. With the Tenth Doctor and the ever hilarious Donna, it is a bit more of a madcap fun adventure that DW is known for, while still having a bittersweet edge to it. I hardly remember this one, and own it, so an easy choice to pick up.

Little House series by Laura Ingalls Wilder - Another very beloved series of stories of mine growing up. I read mostly older stories, not much modern, which is probably why I focus on being a storyteller. Again I have all the books, so it is easy to pick up and read them.

Walking on Water by Madeleine L'Engle - The only non-fiction book on this list, but it is about writing. If one doesn't know, L'Engle wrote many fantasy books, with A Wrinkle in Time, being the most notable. I've read Walking On Water before, a book about being creative and someone of the Christian faith, and loved it. If you fit under that category, I highly recommend it, even if you aren't a writer in particular.

Kingdom Hearts: Dream Drop Distance Novelization - The only book on this list I haven't read, though of course I already know the story. I've been wanting to read this one, and finally found it. While not "canon" I enjoyed the other novelization of the series I did get the chance to read, so hopefully I'll enjoy this one as well.

<>

So there you have it, my list and why. Apparently I can't give up the chance to provide commentary. lol Still, I'd eat up the chance to hear why someone loves a story, or even a bit of background of someone's own journey through the worlds of fiction. It's how I am.

Oh right, I have to tag someone. Ah, lets see: @onewingedsparrow (no idea if you're a reader or not, but you came to mind) and @alasse-earfalas

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

13 Books Tag Game

Way back in April I was tagged in this by @materassassino and I've had it saved in my drafts ever since, determined to Actually Do It instead of spacing out as I so often do with tag games despite enjoying them greatly.

1) The last book I read

I think the last book I finished reading was A House With Good Bones, by T. Kingfisher--an excellent haunted house novel, although not my favorite.

2) A book I recommend

Lud-In-The-Mist, by Hope Mirlees, an extraordinarily dreamy novel from 1926 which I read first in college. It's about fairies and a town that's supposedly forgotten them, and it's simple and fun and often very funny. Or, if you'd rather read something more solidly grounded in reality, I really love The Cunning Man, by Robertson Davies. Davies is a favorite author of mine in general, but The Cunning Man is I think his best.

3) A book that I couldn’t put down

I mean, there's a lot of those, but most recently I think it was The Witness for the Dead by Katherine Addison. I loved it so much that when I finished it I immediately ducked out of my home office to return it to the library and get out the next one, The Grief of Stones, and then I loved that one a lot as well, and now I anxiously await the next one, The Tomb of Dragons, which I think is coming out next February?

Around that same time I also read Just Like Home, by Sarah Gailey, which I was similarly unable to put down. That one is another haunted house book, and it's very much horror and it's about parental abuse and sometimes it gets very creepy, so do be warned.

4) A book I’ve read twice (or more)

Oh good heavens. I've read a lot of books twice or more; I love to re-read. Apart from my repeated re-readings of every Narnia book, Sabriel, a good deal of David Eddings...I think the best example I have is The Iron Dragon's Daughter, by Michael Swanwick. I read it for the first time when I was twelve, which is way too young to be readng that book, and I've re-read it every three or four years since then.

5) A book on my TBR

Lots of things, but most recently we picked up a copy of Ursula Le Guin's essay collection The Language of the Night because Rudo wanted me to read the title essay, and I'm going to do so once I've finished one of the books I'm currently reading.

6) A book I’ve put down

Titus Groan, by Mervyn Peake, several times. Someday I am determined to read all of Gormenghast, but it just hasn't caught me right yet. This is fine, sometimes I make a couple of false starts before I can really get into a book--it took me at least three tries to read The Worm Ouroboros, for example.

7) A book on my wish list

Frillions of books on there, so we'll go with something I specifically want in hard copy. Recently Rudo and I have been going through Tubi's "New to Who" collection of classic Doctor Who serials, and we both fell horrendously in love with Seven, who's lovely. We especially enjoyed Remembrance of the Daleks, and I found out that not only did the Ben Aaronovitch, the writer of the serial, actually get to do the novelization, it was printed a while ago in an absolutely beautiful hardcover alongside Prisoner of the Daleks by Trevor Baxendale. Obviously I want to read the novel, but I also want that specific edition, just because it looks so pretty.

8) A favorite book from childhood

Many such, I was and still am a big reader! Emperor Mage by Tamora Pierce was a frequent re-read, and one that I still love.

9) A book you would give to a friend

Which friend? For what occasion? I give lots of books to lots of friends for lots of reasons! But if we're saying, generally, "what's a book I'd hand to someone and beg them to read it," I'll go with Little, Big, by John Crowley. It's incredible.

10) A book of poetry or lyrics that you own

I have a bunch of poetry collections but I think my favorite is a little cheap Dover collection of Gerard Manley Hopkins. "The Windhover" is so good that I want to eat it.

11) A nonfiction book you own

A Burglar's Guide to the City, by Geoff Manaugh--a book about architecture, but from the perspective of how criminals, burglars especially, interact with buildings.

12) What are you currently reading

Thousand Autumns volume 5 by Meng Xi Shi, Sir Hereward and Mister Fitz by Garth Nix, Lord Seventh by priest, volume 3 of Dangerous Convenience Store, and I got a bit distracted in the middle of Riddle-Master, which is the omnibus edition of Patricia McKillip's Riddle-Master trilogy, but I'll get back to it.

13) What are you planning on reading next?

Everything. Try me.

I will tag @calyxcurl, @travelingneuritis, @ardatli, and @tsunflowers! But please don't feel pressured!

[crystalromana]

For a second Fitz opened his mouth to argue, but then abruptly closed it.

Anji saw something in his eyes then that didn’t exactly surprise her, but nevertheless made her pause: Fitz was looking at the Doctor and in his expression there was a genuine concern for his friend. Anji knew there and then she’d lost the argument. Fitz would go anywhere with the Doctor despite – or perhaps because of – the danger. Not for the first time Anji marvelled at the Doctor’s ability to inspire courage and loyalty where by rights there should be none.

-The Eater of Wasps Trevor Baxendale

[soldado-bugado]

Retrospectiva Leituras 2024 Parte 2 de 3.

Continuação do primeiro post pois tem limite de imagem.

Doctor Who: O prisioneiro dos Daleks. Autor: Trevor Baxendale.

Status: Leitura concluída. Opinião: Saleiros nazistas são engraçados de ver até matarem seus novos amigos e lhe colocar para trabalhar num campo de concentração. Nota: 4/5. Não é a toa que o atual 15° doutor pois o 10° doutor, agora 14° na terapia.

Doctor Who: 12 Doutores • 12 Histórias. Autores: Diversos.

Status: Terminar de Ler. Opinião: Do que li até agora, todas as histórias são boas. Além de encapsular bem os doutores clássicos. Nota: A definir, mas provavelmente 4,5/5

Guia do mochileiro das Galáxias Vol. 1. Autor: Douglas Adams.

Status: Terminar de Ler. Opinião: O começo e o livro em si é hilário. Não sei por que não terminei ainda. Nota: A definir, mas provavelmente entre 4 a 4,5/5.

A Lenda da Caixa das Almas. Autora: Paola Siviero.

Status: Parei nos últimos capítulos. Opinião: O livro é bom. Faltou só estabelecer o cenário melhor. Mas foi um livro difícil para eu gostar. No meio dele o clima cai muito, e vamos de tristeza para tristeza coletiva, com o clima não dando nem um sinal direito de subir. Não sou muito bom para obras assim e quando comprei o livro não esperava ficar tão sombrio. É um livro que não tem nota muito alta para MIM, mas que eu poderia muito bem recomendar para alguém que gosta. Então veja mais minha nota como preferência e não critica. Nota: Entre 3 e 3,5/5

O livro da mitologia. Autor: Thomas Bulfinch.

Status: Terminar de ler. Opinião: Excelente livro clássico sobre mitologia greco-romana. Bom para estudar e conhecer mitologia como iniciante. Nota: 5/5.

O Império Brazileiro. Autor: Oliveira Lima.

Status: To bem no começo. Opinião: Livro velho, escrito no português do começo de 1900. O autor morreu antes do meu avô nascer, então leia com cautela e tenha múltiplas perspectivas pra não cair em ladainha da direita ou da esquerda. Nota: Não li nem o suficiente pra opinar direito, e minha perspectiva da história do brasil vem primariamente: da escola estadual, ensino médio, faculdade de letras, videos e jogos de história. Método complicado e longo de dizer "Não Posso Opinar" ou dar uma nota.

Ultimo livro na qual comecei a ler: A História da China. Autor: Michael Wood.

Status: No começo do livro. Opinião: O começo é bom, e o autor é famoso por dirigir documentários sobre a China, e premiado pela china por eles. Diria uma boa leitura. Nota: Cedo demais para dar uma.

Fim do livros!

Bem, essa foi minha leitura esse ano. Bem extensa eu diria. Mas ainda vai ter mais! Não hoje, mas pretendo colocar o que li de HQ's na parte 3, e talvez audiodramas também. Mas por enquanto é só.

Feliz 2025 e Feliz ano novo!

Outras partes:

Parte 1

Parte 3

[timedwarf]

Поки в мене перерва між випусками мого подкасту по Доктору Хто, вирішив розбавити цей сумний час оглядом на книжки по Доктору про які ми не зробимо випуск, але поговорити хочеться.

Тож на огляді сьогодні в нас три книжечки з серії Eleventh Doctor Adventures від Puffin Books, що виходила з листопада 2015 року по вересень 2-16 року і налічувала в собі 12 творів. Хоча всі 12 творів не були спеціально написані для цієї серії, всі книжки це передрук історій, що виходили в серії BBC New Series Adventures 2 in 1 (2011-2012), просто кожна історія в окремому видані та новому оформленні.

Варто зазначити, як ви вже могли побачити з видав��я, ці твори більше направленні на дитячу авдиторію і на це треба зважати, проте не сказав би, що це псує враження. Плюс англійська в книжках не тяжка, тож якщо тільки вчите мову і шукаєте практики — це для вас. Також скажу, що всі 12 книг в серії не пов’язані між собою сюжетно і їх можна читати в будь-якому порядку.

А тепер перейдемо до самих творів, які Яр прочитав:

Heart of Stone

Trevor Baxendale

Найбільш дитяча з усіх трьох мною описаних. Вона доволі весела та драйвова, але не переконлива для більш дорослої авдиторії. Хоч концепт про живі організми на основі кременю, проте “казкова механіка” сил головного антагоніста у творі викликає питання навіть в межах Доктора Хто, а псевдонаукове пояснення не дуже переконує. Єдине, що цікаво так це те, що по факту “антагоніст” хоч і прибулець, та все ж був породжений/спровокований саме людьми (чомусь люблю цей троп). Також цікаво, що Рорі тут приділяють набагато більше часу ніж в серіальних епізодах, що дає йому розкритися.

Але в принципі читати було весело.

The Water Thief

Jacqueline Rayner

Такий собі детектив в антуражі стародавнього Єгипту. Насправді класна історія і прикольна йде для більш дорослого читача. По факту “антагоніст” не розумна істота й Доктор просто намагається зупинити поширення та зрозуміти з чого воно почалось, чесно, найгірша частина книжки це фінал де Доктор розкриває звідки насправді походить антагоніст. А ось з хорошого все до фіналу (окрім Емі). Історія розвивається у двох гілках: 1. Єгипет вікторіанської доби де покинутий Рорі разом з групою археологів переживають стресову ситуацію, спеку, зневоднення і просто намагаються вижити; 2. Стародавній Єгипет, де Доктор та Емі живуть своє лучче детективне життя (факт отруєння Доктора упустимо). Насправді цей троп — Доктор з Емі у своїй гілці, Рорі у своїй гілці, — є спільним для всіх трьох прочитаних книжок, але тут вона доведена до апогею розділенням в часі. І варто визна��и, що гілка Рорі в вікторіанському Єгипті написана прям класно, стародавній Єгипет теж класний, але там Емі дратує своїми дратуючими коментарями та жартами про стародавній Єгипет (але я в принципі не фанат Емі).

В загальному, для мене це найкращий твір з прочитаної трійки. Воно класно читається і має в собі непоганий детектив, як на вік авдиторії, єдине що фінал трошки псує картину. Окремий бонус за відсилку на Сутеха.

Terminal of Despair

Steve Lyons

Чесно на початку подавала найбільші надії з усіх трьох, проте під кінець програла Викрадачу води, бо один і той самий сюжетний поворот повторювався декілька разів в різних варіантах. Прикольна історія в замкненій локації, котра, на дивовижу, прям гарно передає те як мразотні люди під впливом стресу, перспективи померти та замкненого простору стають ще більш мразотними (прям моя повага). І хоч головні антагоністи на початку виглядають не так загрозливо, далі авторі класної з ними працює і додає напруги. На диво ту сюжетно розділ йде не на дві, а на цілих три гілки, кожна окремо для Доктора, Емі та Рорі. І пригоди Рорі є прям найцікавішими в усій книзі.

В принципі прикольна історія, котра слабше за Крадія води, але сильніше за Кам’яне серце. Сильною стороною я б назвав пригоди Рорі та те як автор працює з людськими типажами.

[blue-hi]

i took a gap year after i graduated, and it's wild how many books you can read when you have no assignments to do. here's a list of the books i managed to finish, from june 2022 to today (both nonfiction and fiction):

One Coin Found (Emily Kegler)

The Starless Sea (Erin Morgenstern)

House of Leaves (Mark Z. Danielewski)

Dracula (Bram Stoker)

The Large Catechism of Martin Luther (Martin Luther)

Piranesi (Susanna Clarke)

Something Wicked This Way Comes (Ray Bradbury)

Sunless (Nick @sol1loqu1st)

The Anthropocene Reviewed (John Green)

Fevre Dream (George R.R. Martin)

Last on Grant (Philip H. Pfatteicher)

Carmilla (Sheridan Le Fanu)

Mere Christianity (C.S. Lewis)

The Haunting of Hill House (Shirley Jackson)

Episode Thirteen (Craig DiLouie)

EarthWorld (Jaqueline Rayner)

Unnatural History (Jonathan Blum & Kate Orman)

The Book of the Still (Paul Ebbs)

Vanishing Point (Stephen Cole)

Eater of Wasps (Trevor Baxendale)

The Year of Intelligent Tigers (Kate Orman)

The Slow Empire (Dave Stone)

that is so many

[crookedfivefingers]

I wish this book had been an actual episode—it’s SO good

But this visual is hilarious 😂

(From Wishing Well by Trevor Baxendale)

[the-torchwood-archive]

From TWM #8, it's part one of Harm's Way.

Since there was some interest in me sharing my collection, I thought I'd start with one of the first short stories and one of my favourites. Which is odd, considering Trevor Baxendale wrote one of my least favourite novels. Judging by The Undertaker's Gift, he's a big supporter of Jack/Gwen so it's interesting that he wrote a Rhys/Gwen focused story.

Full text is under the cut. This was a quick transcription, so please let me know if you find any errors.

The Torchwood SUV pulled up with a screech of brakes and Captain Jack Harkness climbed out. ‘Came as fast as I could,’ he said with a grin.

‘No news there, then,’ said Ianto Jones. He was standing on the lawn of a neat semi-detached bungalow, squinting in the sun as it reflected off the SUV’s paintwork.

Jack took off his sunglasses as he strolled over, ‘Ok, Fun Boy, what gives?’

‘You’d best have a look yourself. Tosh is in the back checking it over.’

‘What about the people?’ Jack asked as he strode up the garden path.

‘I sent them next door. The neighbours are providing tea and sympathy. It’s that kind of area.’

‘It’s a sunny day. Everyone’s nice on a sunny day.’

Jack pushed open the gate at the side of the house and Ianto followed him down a shady passage into the back garden. It wasn’t too large, a meticulously cut lawn and some well-tended flower beds. Not the kind of garden kids played in, so this was unlikely to be a prank.

Toshiko Sato was already there, examining the artefact with a portable scanner. If artefact was the right word, it was really still just a thing, but that sounded so unprofessional.

It was pretty big, at least two meters long, a meter wide, shaped like a loaf of bread. In fact the surface looked, at first glance, just like a crust – until you realized it was translucent, like amber. The midday sun sparkled like gold coins scattered across the top.

‘It sinks,’ said Jack, wafting the air away from his nose.

‘I think it’s the heat,’ said Toshiko straightening up, ‘We need to get it somewhere cool.’

‘Okay,’ Jack nodded, ‘Owen’s on his way with a van. He’ll be here in ten.’

‘I thought Gwen was going to have a word with Rhys, see if we could just one of his lorries?’

Jack shrugged, ‘She changed her mind.’

Ianto pulled a face and Toshiko understood. Jack had changed Gwen’s mind for her.

‘Rhys is ok, but I don’t want to put him at risk,’ Jack explained, noticing the silent exchange, ‘And neither does Gwen.’

---------

Rhys Williams sat down and pushed the skinny latte across the café table to his fiancee Gwen Cooper. He was having a large mocha with extra whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. ‘Nearly five quid,’ he sasid, licking froth off his thumb, ‘For two coffees, it’s a disgrace.’

Gwen smiled at him. It was a beautiful day and they had been lucky enough to find an empty table on the pavement, ‘Stop complaining, it’s not offen we get to meet up in the day time.’

‘Well I’ll just have to make the most of it, won’t I?’

‘What does that mean?’ Gwen stiffened slightly. There was something in Rhys’ tone that rang alarm bells, the way he said something with that causal smile  but without meeting her gaze. It always meant trouble.

‘Y’know…in your line of work. Torchwood and all that. You never know the day, do you?’

Gwen put her coffee down, ‘What’s got into you? I thought we were good about this?’

‘We are, we are.’

‘Well you don’t sound it. C’mon, what’s up? I thought we were going to have a nice cup of coffee and chat about the wedding?’

‘Oh yeah, that.’

Gwen’s shoulders sagged, ‘Rhys, please tell me what’s the matter.’

‘Well I just thought…it’s not like you’re a police-woman anymore, is it? I mean, that was bad enough…’

‘Bad enough?’

‘Yeah, you know, with the risk and everything. Well, what I mean is, it’s not like being a…’ he floundered, ‘I don’t know…a secretary, is it?’

Gwen glared at him, ‘Is that what you wish I was? A bloody secretary, for God’s sake?’

‘No,’ he said, realizing that he had said the wrong thing again, ‘No, I only meant it as an example. You could be a bloody bricklayer for all I care. At least I’d know you were safe.’

She was still thinking of a reply when her mobile sang out. She flipped it, shielded the screen from the sun, saw the single word. TORCHWOOD. Oh great. Prefect timing, Jack.

‘I’ve got to go,’ Gen said, standing up, businesslike, ‘Thanks very much for the coffee.’

Rhys got up as well, ‘Don’t go. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to moan. I’m just worried, that’s all.’

‘I haven’t got time for this.’

And then the look was back in his eyes again. The one where his eyebrows sand right down over his nose. The only look on his face that she ever disliked, ‘No, you rush of, Gwen, run along to Jack. Maybe I’ll see you tonight, eh, if you’ve not been ubducted by aliens or eaten by  a Weeble.’

‘Weevil!’ yelled Gwen, and then realized, just as Rhys did, that they had raised their voiced loud enough for the other people at the nearby tables to hear. She turned abruptly and walked away, her heart hammering, leaving him to face the stares.

---------

She made it to the Hub in record time. There was nothing like a really bad mood to get you moving and by the time she’d walked to Roald Dahl Plass, Gwen did feel batter.

‘Where have you been?’ asked Jack as Gwen stepped into the cool and cavernous interior of the Torchwood base.

‘You gave me the morning off,’ she told him.

‘I never give anyone the morning off,’ he said, ‘That must have been an alien imposter posing as me.’

‘Don’t joke about it.’

‘It could happen. You have to be ready. If I ever give you the morning off again, question it. If I change my mind, then it’s the genuine me.’

‘There’s only one Captain Jack,’ Gwen laughed, ‘That I do know. What’s the emergancy?’

‘No emergancy. I just wanted the whole team together. We’ve brought something in and we need to check it out.’

Gwen dumped her jacket and bag on her workstation, ‘What is it?’

‘We don’t know,’ Ianto said, coming down the steps from the hothouse, ‘We’re thinking of having an office sweep. But so far it’s been officially promoted from a “thing” to an “artefect”. Coffee?’

Gwen shook her head. She could still taste the latte and it wasn’t good, ‘Where is it, then?’

---------

It was on the slab in the autopsy room.  Owen Harper, white lab coat glowing under the operating theatre lights, was examining the artefact with an old-fashioned magnifying glass while Toshiko stood close by, taking yet more readings on her PDA.

‘Blimey, that’s a big one,’ Gwen said as she came in.

‘That’s another way you can check it’s the real me.’ Jack murmured as he followed her down the steps into the cool, circular chamber.

‘Excuse me,’ said Owen, looking up from the examination table, ‘This is an innuendo-free zone.’

‘Since when?’

‘Tosh and I just agreed it, didn’t we, Tosh?

She looked up and nodded quickly, the blue glow from the scanner hiding her crimson blushes.

‘Did it come through the Rift?’ Gwen asked.

‘Landed slap-bang in the middle of Pontcanna,’ nodded Ianto, ‘Someone’s back garden, no less. They were pretty surprised but not traumatized.

‘Good neighbours,’ explained Jack.

‘And no need for retcon.’

Gwen nodded, satisfied. The memory-altering drug perfected by Captain Jack was used too often for her liking. She knew the public had to be protected, but sometimes it just felt wrong to protect them retrospectively.

‘We brought it back in a van,’ Ianto continued, ‘Took all four of us to lift it. I still can’t get the smell off my hands.’

‘You were wearing gloves,’ Owen pointed out.

‘I know, it’s the smell of the gloves I can’t get rid of,’ Ianto screwed up his face, ‘It’s the rubber.’

‘So any idea of what it actually is?’ Gwen approached the examination table cautiously. Whatever it was, it certianly ponged. It was a distinctly organic smell, like the mulch at the bottom of a forest floor. Ripe and peaty.

‘I’ve been collecting a number of different readings and scan data,’ Toshink reported. Her glasses flashed blue in the light of the PDA screen as she continued to run through the analysis programs, ‘It’s one hundred percent extraterrestrial, but there’s not match in the database for organic compounds, cell structure, polymer chains or nucleic acids.’

‘So,’ Jack summerised, ‘Something new. Any guesses?’

‘Crusty roll for a giant?’ offered Ianto, ‘Abbadon’s packed lunch, perhaps…’ But no one even smiled at that.

‘It’s organic,’ Owen comfired, ‘But it’s dead.’ He tapped the side of the amber pod with a knuckle. Even with surgical gloves on, there was a distinct, hard rap.

‘It’s a chrysalis,’ said Gwen.

They all turned to look at her. Self concious, she managed a shrug, ‘ What? I did a project on them in juniors. You know, butterflies and moths – in the larval stage, when they’re caterpillars, they weave a silk covering all around themselves and it dries out and forms a hard chrysalis. Inside, the caterpillar dissolves into a kind of soup an then reforms as an entirely new creature. A butterfly or moth.’

‘You’re saying there could be a giant caterpillar in there?’ asked Jack.

‘Or a butterfly,’ added Toshiko.

‘Or soup,’ suggested Ianto.

‘I don’t know,’ Gwen said. She was standing close to the thing now, staring down into the translucent shell outer layer, ‘But that’s the thing about them. The chrysalis, the shell, is dead matter. It’s what’s inside it that’s alive.’

---------

Rhys jumped down from the lorry cab and slammed the door. It was still sunny, but there were puddles left over from yesterday’s downpour. He splashed his way across the yard towards the Portakabin office of Harwood’s Haulage, still fuming.

He and Gwen were arguing far too much lately. He’s put it down to pre-marriage nerves; some of his married mates had said that the weeks leading up to theire weddings had been the worst of their entire lives. ‘And then after the wedding, it all goes down hill,’ Banana Boat had warned. Feeble joke, but it had made Rhys laugh out loud.

‘Get away,’ Rhys had said, ‘What would you know about it? I’m looking forward to it, me.’

‘No you’re not. You’re bloody terrified.’

But Banana Boat was wrong about that. Rhys was scared of notgetting married. Of getting there, up the aisle, with Gwen, before some insane alien space monster ate her alive or fried her with a laser blaster.

Before he’d known, in the months before he’d stumbled on the truth and found out about Captain Jack Harkness and Torchwood, Rhys and Gwen had argued a lot. In a funny kind of way it had been a relief to find out about the space aliens and the Rift and the Hub and all that crazy stuff. Because it made sense of the arguments, of the tension, and the deceit. He hadn’t liked it but he’d understood it. And the truth had brought them closer together, closer than they had ever been.

But there was a doubt in Rhys’ mind now. After the initial excitement, the thrill, the breathtaking madness of It all, it came down to this; Gwen faced deadly danger on a regular basis, peril and adventure that the rest of the world could only have nightmares about. But for the people in Torchwood, for Gwen Cooper, and now Rhys himself, those nightmares were reality. And more than that, they were daily routine.

And that was scaring Rhys now. Scaring him big time. Because every time his phone rang, his guts would turn stone cold and his hand would tremble as he took his mobile out of his pocket. Because one day, any day, that would be Jack Harkness calling with bad news.

---------

Gwen was in Jack’s office. She was standing at the window, looking across the Hub to the autopsy room where Owen and Toshiko were still working on the chrysalis. It had been officially promoted from “artefact” to “chrysalis” and Gwen felt quite proud.

‘Problems?’ asked Jack. He was sitting with his boots up on his desk and his hands behind his head. His sky-blue eyes were watching her carefully. Gwen always knew when Jack’s eyes were on her.

‘No, nothing,’ she replied, fiddling with her necklace. It was a cheap leather and shell thing that Rhys had given her only last week, down by the waterfront. It had caught her eye on the Cardiff Bay souvenir stall and Rhys had bought it for her instantly.

‘You can’t kid a kidder,’ drawled Jack, ‘Listen, I know you wanted Rhys to help. The truck thing – it was a good offer, a kind offer. Exactly what I’d expect from you. But I can’t involve Rhys in our work. He’s gotta stay separate, do you understand?’

‘Sure.’

Silent as a panther, Jack appeared at her shoulder, one warm hand on her arm, ‘I mean it, Gwen. You’re Torchwood. Rhys is the real world. He’s what you go back to at the end of the day. Let’s not ruin that.’

‘I understand.’

He turned her around and looked deep into her eyes. She could feel her irises loosening, widening, drinking in that cool blue gaze. When he spoke, she could feel his breath on her face.

‘Do you understand? Really?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’ve gotta care for everybody, Gwen. Even Rhys.’

She closed her eyes, ‘Yes.’

There was a polite knock at the door and Jack let go of her.

‘Excuse me,’ said Toshiko, ‘But I think we’ve found something that might be of interest…’

---------

‘It’s writing,’ said Ianto.

They were all staring at a patch of smooth amber on the side of the chrysalis. Owen’s pen torch was picking out a series of marks in the material, angular cuts which run in a long line around the entire perimeter, ‘From most angles the marks are actually quite difficult to see,’ explained Owen, ‘But if I shing a UV light on them…’ He changed the setting on his torch and the tip glowed ultraviolet. And then, instantly, the markings were impossible to miss.

‘The y are not random or accidental cuts,’ Toshiko confirmed, ‘It is definitely some sort of deliberate, intelligent inscription.’

‘So what does it say?’ Jack asked.

‘I’m running it through every transcription protocol we have. It could be a long process, though.’

‘Ok,’ Jack clapped his hands, ‘The day’s just got interesting. Let’s get to it, guys. I wanna know what this thing is and where it’s come from.’

‘Uh, Jack,’ began Gwen, ‘I think the day might be getting a little more interesting than you thought…’

‘What do you mean?’

Gwen pointed, ‘Look at the chrysalis. Can’t you see? Inside. Something’s moving inside.’

---------

Rhys dialled Gwen’s mobile. It rang twice and then her voice said, ‘Rhys, what is it?’ She sounded busy, distracted. Ringing her was wrong, he shouldn’t be checking up on her like this, but he had done it now.

‘Gwen love…about before. I didn’t mean to have a go at  you, I was out of order.’

‘Yeah. Ok. No worries.’

She sounded like she wanted to close the call. Rhys felt a flare of irritation again; here he was, trying to make amends, extend the olive branch, and she was too busy, ‘What’s up?’ he asked, ‘What are  you doing?’

‘Rhys, I’m busy. I’ll call you back.’

Gwen snapped the phone shut and returned it to her back pocket, ‘Sorry.’

They all looked at her for a long moment. None of them ever received calls in the Hub, at least not from anyone outside Torchwood. Gwen didn’t know whether to feel embarrassed or smug. But she did bloody feel annoyed with Rhys, didn’t he ever know when to let go?

‘I’m getting new readings,’ Toshiko announced, ‘Gwen’s right. There’s something in there and it’s alive.’

‘How come we’ve only just noticed it now?’ Jack wanted to know.

‘It’s only just started moving,’ Owen said, circling the examination table, ‘Something’s activated it.’

The chrysalis cracked open with a sound ricocheting around the Hub like a gunshot. The team all took a step back, reflexively.

For a second after that, nobody moved. They all stare at the jagged split running down the top of the chrysalis from one end to the other. Something moist glistened beneath the two halves, something which moved with a slow, ugly sucking noise.

Jack’s hand was on his gun, drawing it already. Owen was backing away from the chrysalis, one hand out to pull Toshiko back with him. She was still immersed in the readings from her scanner, her eyes fixed on the blue screen, ‘There’s been a huge surge in energy levels,’ she reported without looking up.

‘We kinda noticed,’ Jack said, levelling the Webley revolver. Ianto was already mounting the steps leading out of the autopsy room, heading with brisk efficiency for the weapons cabinet.

Only Jack, Gwen, and Owen saw the thing emerge from its chrysalis. It burst like a giant abscess, globules of stinking ichor spraying across the room as the contents were disgorged.

It moves so fast that they should even see what it was, not properly. It shot upwards in a tangle of limbs, knocking the theatre lamps flying and sticking to the ceiling like a screwed up spider. Owen was in his back, shouting something, and when Gwen looked at him she could see that he was hurt, twisting from side to side while he clutched his face.

Jack fired three shots at the creature, the boom of the heavy calibre pistol rattling all the instruments in the room. Brick dust showered them as each bullet missed its target. The thing scuttled with inhuman speed across the ceiling, swung down through the entrance ach and lashed out, somehow, in retaliation. Jack was sent spinning through the air, all the breath knocked out of him, until he crashed into the wall with bone-crunching force.

‘Jack!’ Gwen yelled, charging across to him. She skidded in a patch of alien goo and hit the floor hard next to Jack’s inert figure. She turned him over and gasped when she saw the huge black gash on his forehead. Blood had already begun to pour down his face and he was out cold.

Toshiko was bent over Owen, who has stopped screaming but was not moaning in a way which was somehow worse. It was the kind of sound that no one should ever had to make, the same sound Gwen had once heard at a road traffic accident she had been unlucky enough to attend as a fresh-faced WPC. The young lad caught under the wheels of the bin lorry had made the same noise minutes before he died, before the ambulance ever got close. It was something Gwen had hoped to never hear again, and yet now she was, only this time it was her friend, someone she loved, someone she’d screwed, for pity’s sake, dying right in front of her. Owen was still holding his face, his fingers white and ridged. Toshiko was panic stricken, trying to speak to him, but barely able to say anything coherent.

Gwen made Jack as comfortable as she could, but quickly. She knew he would be ok. Then she crabbed across the room, patting Toshiko on the shoulder as she went, ‘Look after him,’ she ordered, and Tosh, bless her, just looked up and nodded without a word. Owen was holding onto Toshiko’s arm with one hand now, his fingers flexing and pulling her. His other hand was on his face and Gwen could see blood, lots of it, running down his wrist as he rocked back and forth, groaning and whimpering.

‘He’ll be alright,’ Gwen said and again Toshiko simply nodded, as if hardly daring to disagree.

‘Get it!’ Owen hissed through his fingers. Blood bubbled behind his hand and one eye blared feverishly at Gwen, bloodshot and frightened, ‘Get the bloody thing!’

Gwen nodded and ran up into the Hub.

---------

It looked empty. The huge space was quiet, save for the tick and whirr of the computer stations and the hum of the Rift manipulator. Nothing moved.

Gwen’s weapon, a powerful 9mm Sig Sauer automatic, was on her desk. She could reach it in half a dozen quick strides. But where was the creature?

Something moved across the Hub and Gwen froze. Then she saw Ianto step out of the shadows beneath the hothouse, a Heckler & Koch SMG slung over his shoulder. There was a magazine already in place, a second one taped to the side of it for speedy reloading. He was scanning the Hub, sweeping the area for any sign of the thing from the chrysalis, his forefinger resting on the trigger of the gun.

He saw Gwen, nodded once. Then something crawled across the high walkway which ran along one side of the hub and Ianto swivelled, bringing the SMG up to his shoulder to aim.

The creature stopped, almost invisible in the shadows. Gwen could hardly see it, apart from the impression of a number of limbs sticking out from beneath a shiny carapace, like a beetle or a cockroach. But, boy, was it big. Big and fast.

Ianto took a cautious step forward, still keeping the creature in his sights, but trying to reach a better firing position. As he moved, the creature moved. It crawled slowly along the gantry, matching him step for step.

Then, without warning, it sprang. Ianto fired instinctively, the muzzle flash igniting the scene for split seconds like a strobe light. Gwen saw a few glimpses of the thing in mid-air, like momentary snapshots, saw the widening jaws and jagged fangs.

It barely slowed under the hail of gunfire. It collided with Ianto and he disappeared in an instant, as if he had stepped off the kerb in front of a speeding lorry.

Gwen had already made the dash for her gun. She grabbed the Sig, cocked it, aimed, squeezed the trigger. Once, twice, so many more times she lost count. It was a big gun, too big for her really, the magazine holding 16 very heavy rounds. But Jack Harkness had taught her how to shoot and there was no one better than Jack.

The bullets in the Sig were not ordinary rounds. They were Torchwood ammo, hollow point, steel jacketed, with one microdot of super-dense Dwarf Star alloy to pack and extra punch. A great lump of it, about the size of a grain of sale, had come through the Rift 30 years ago. It was enough to keep them all in ammunition for decades to come, thanks to a tame microphysics engineer Jack knew at UNIT.

The bullets tore chunks out of the walls, holes in the pipe work and left one armoury window shattered. Several struck the creature. She didn’t see the rounds hit, but she knew, she just knew, they’d hit home. The creature squealed and crashed against a wall, splashing through the water at the base of the water tower and disappearing into the shadows.

Then all went quiet. Gwen’s ears were still ringing, but she could tell that the Hub was silent again. She couldn’t even hear Owen anymore. Perhaps he was dead now, like the boy who had been run over by the bin wagon. Perhaps Ianto was dead too. Jack was unconscious. Toshiko was not a warrior.

It was down to Gwen.

She walked forward slowly, keeping the gun level, ready to shoot again at point blank of necessary.

Silence. She strained to hear something, anything, that might give the creature’s location away. Breathing. Or the click of its amour. Or the sticky noise of its jaws opening.

Nothing.

She crept forward, arms extended, rigid, like a signpost to death.

It had to be nearby. It couldn’t have gone much further.

Another step. Her canvas trainers didn’t make a sound.

And then her mobile went off in her pocket.

She physically jumped with shock. The jaunty ringtone trilled out across the Hub, drawing the attention of anyone, or anything, that might be listening.

The creature sprang from its hiding place, jaws snapping at her. Gwen actually saw the spittle flying from the jagged spikes which filled the gaping maw, aware that the last sound she was ever going to hear in her life was her ringtone, and the last thought she would ever have was Rhys you stupid bugger.

And then it was on her.