I don't know about anyone else but i am very disappointed with how "Children of Earth" turned out . . . so I'm going to pretend it never happened and write regardless.
This story will be the first of many in my Children of Trochwood series, as i plan on exploring each character i create.
Disclaimer: I do not own the right's to Torchwood or any characters/aliens created by the BBC. I do, however, own the rights to Lorna Harkness-Jones, Thomas Williams, Samuel Milligan and Mr. MacAtinney.
Please enjoy and let me know what you think. Both compliments and constructive criticism will be accepted graciously.
Showing Who's Boss
There is something so infuriating about being belittled. Even worse; being bored and belittled at the same time. And the only place that happens is a school. I'm stuck in the most boring class on my timetable; science with Mr. MacAtinney.
Thankfully I have Samson and Tommy in my class so it's not so boring. We're learning about the components of blood and cell structure, but since both Samson's parents are doctors and Tommy's older brother, Christopher, we know all of that stuff off-by-heart. So subsequently we finished all our work in about 10 minutes.
So we're now trying to figure out if we can get the Rift Predictor program to work. We're close, I know we are but we're just missing something.
'What if we compare the Weevil reports with past Rift activity logs. Mum recons they're time sensitive, so maybe we can find a pattern.' Tommy said in a low voice so the people in front of us couldn't hear what we were talking about.
'It's not constant enough.' Samson disagreed. 'You'd need to have enough data to eradicate the anomalies, and Weevils are too unpredictable at the best of times. Why are we even discussing this? I thought you said Toshiko's program worked perfectly fine Lorna?'
'Tosh's program only predicts Rift activity while it's still open. But if we can get this to work then we'd be able predict activity hours maybe even days in advance. Anyway I've had an idea for a while now and I think I might work. If we join the current Predictor with the Manipulator they'll be able to cancel each other out leaving us with a perfect prediction. Only problem is; Dad will kill me if I touch the Rift.'
'No shit!' Tommy said his face set in a "No Duh!" expression, a spitting image of his father's.
'It'll work though, and I can prove it. I just don't know what will happen when I start playing with the Rift.'
'I do.' Samson mimicked an explosion that ended with him pulling a face which was meant to mean that he was dead. To me it looked like a dog that had fallen asleep with its tongue hanging out. 'You know what happened last time someone played with the Rift.' He continued without missing a beat. 'The whole city was destroyed and your Dad almost killed himself trying to save it.'
'That was nearly 20 years ago and besides Dad–'
'Harkness!' Said the booming voice of our teacher, cutting off my argument before I could even make it.
'Jones.' I added irritated.
'What?'
'Jones. You forgot the "Jones" on the end of my name. It's Harkness-Jones, sir.'
'Do you want a detention?' MacAtinney said his anger rising slightly.
'For what sir? I've done nothing wrong. My work is completed and I'm not disturbing anyone around me who hasn't completed their work. So how could I get a detention?'
'For cheek girl, sheer cheek. Let me see your work.'
We each handed over our work books and he marked them in front of us while the rest of the class watch with curious eyes. After about 10 minutes he gave up. Each question had the correct answer in detail and there was clear evidence that we hadn't copied. He glared at me before he walked back to the front of the class and continued his lesson.
Sam let out a long low whistle and leant back in his chair.
'I seriously thought he was going to get us then.' He said looking slightly nervous.
'Yeah, tell me about it.' Agreed Tommy.
'Really? Honestly you two, give you a vicious alien that wants to kill you; yeah sure, give you 10 minutes to take it down. But a barmy old science teacher, that has noodles for brains – next to us – and you start panicking. Seriously, what are you? Coward or killer?' I say totally perplexed.
'Coward. Any day!' The boys chorused just as the bell rung.
Quickly packing up our books and stuffing them on our already full bags, we headed for the door and I hoped like-hell I wouldn't get called back like usual, but sadly . . .
'Miss Harkness.'
'Jones. Harkness-JONES! Didn't we just have this discussion not 5 minutes ago?'
MacAtinney looked up at me standing in front of his desk, flanked by Samson and Tommy.
'Mr. Williams, Mr. Milligan; you can wait for Miss Harkness-Jones outside.'
'No chance.' We all said in unison.
'You see, sir.' I began leaning on his desk, giving his the same stare Dad often used when he was thoroughly pissed off with someone – usually UNIT. 'Mr. Williams and Mr. Milligan are my witnesses for when I talk to my fathers tonight, because obviously you've held me back to tell me that you're going to call them and tell them of my behaviour. Am I right?'
MacAtinney didn't move, or even say anything. He just sat there looking straight at me; his eyes wild and the veins in his temples threatening to burst.
I straightened up and walked out of the classroom – with Tommy and Samson close behind – leaving our teacher frozen behind his desk.
'You are so going to get it from your Dad tonight.' Samson said clapping me on the shoulder once we were a safe distance away from the room.
'Yeah, another month of paperwork or Weevil duty. Oh well, at least MacAtinney knows where we all stand.'
We all laughed as we headed off to our next class . . . Electronics!
