They called Jack into Torchwood London when no one else knew what to do. They may have barely trusted him, but damn if he didn't know what he was doing.
He sat now in an interrogation room, watching a delicate, silver-skinned, mostly humanoid girl who wouldn't meet his eyes. Silbek weren't meant for captivity.
"If I can just have my ship-"
"You can't. I'm sorry."
She looked up now, pale eyes panicked. "But... I'll die here."
Jack reached for her hand across the table, heart so full of sympathy it ihurt/i. He'd have thought the same, once. "Consider the alternative."