A MATTER OF TIME

by Soledad

For disclaimer, rating, etc., see the Introduction.

The events of this chapter take place in a time frame of about six days. I skipped describing the launch itself, as I couldn't have said anything new about it.

For visuals: I decided to give Chef the appearance of Jonathan Frakes, who replaced him in the final episode of the series, just for fun.

Some lines of dialogue are taken from "Broken Bow", the pilot episode of the "Enterprise" series. Brownie points for those who can tell where the "mudfoot" reference comes from. ;)


Chapter 04 – Reunions of the Eerie Kind

Ianto's first impression of Enterprise is a strange mix of awe and disappointment. The lean, masculine ship has nothing in common with the five-star space cruisers he's seen in science fiction series or films, although it does have an airy, elegant silhouette with its saucer-shaped primary hull and the twin nacelles attached to the secondary one.

It is unquestionably the best and fastest spaceship mankind has built so far, but it also seems rather unfinished in places. The lack of wall panelling and floor carpeting is the lesser part of the problems, though. The greater part of it is that the engineering crew swarming all over the decks is obviously in desperate hurry to put the finishing touches to the ship to be ready for the pre-scheduled launch.

The Doctor has arranged for Ianto – via TARDIS – the job of the quartermaster, in the rank of a Chief Petty Officer, which is the highest a non-commissioned officer can reach within the structure of Starfleet. It was a bit like the choice between Torchwood and UNIT, and Ianto didn't want to be part of the military. Not any more than it was inevitable when serving in the space fleet.

His job has marked similarities with his duties at Torchwood Three, and he likes it that way. It gives him the chance to have his quarters to himself, without having to share it like other non-commissioned personnel has, and he even has a small office from where he can organize the myriad small, invisible things no-one notices but without which no group of people can function smoothly.

Granted, the quartermaster's office does have a bit of a claustrophobic feel to it. It's barely larger than the small kitchen used to be behind the tourist information shop above the Hub; the fully computerized desk and the chair behind it fill half the room.

There is little chance for personal touches, but Ianto manages to squeeze a small table into the corner next to the door leading to his quarters. On this small, bolted-down table, fastened against all eventualities, is proudly displayed the coffee machine he's salvaged from the ruins of the Hub and adapted to 22nd century technology with the Doctor's help. This was his only condition when taking the job and the Doctor gave in, after many dramatic eyerolls.

Of course, the Doctor only ever drank tea – what did he know about the necessity of the right equipment for a perfectly brewed coup of coffee?

Ianto's new shipmates were a bit surprised when they spotted the ancient-looking apparatus with its shiny copper and steel parts, dominating the quartermaster's tiny office.

"We do have beverage dispensers in the mess hall, you know," Chef said, only half-jokingly, his broad, bearded face split by an ear-to-ear grin.

Ianto just smiled and brewed him the perfect cup. Chef never said a word against the presence of the "prehistoric monstrosity", as he called it, again.

Word about the quartermaster's fantastic coffee has spread on board like wildfire, but Ianto is determined not to become the coffee boy again. He has a more important task on this mission. But he does provide the engineering crew with their caffeine influx cos they're vital for the ship to be ready at the impossible deadline, and Commander Tucker doesn't even try to hide his gratitude. He's not such a coffee addict as Jack used to be but close to it; and he can appreciate good coffee instead of the caffeine-infused tar the beverage dispensers produce.

Since he also doubles as the executive officer, he visits Ianto's office twice a day to discuss things of importance with him. And if they share a refreshing cup of coffee and a bit of friendly banter about rugby versus American football, so what? They're both responsible for crew morale, and Commander Tucker needs a chance to vent, too.

They're supposed to launch in three days and Ianto still has to meet any others of the command staff yet. He knows of their requirements, of course. He's seen to it that the environmental controls in Subcommander T'Pol's quarters got readjusted, so that she can raise the temperature and the artificial gravity to the Vulcan norm.

He's acquired the necessities for Captain Archer's dog, so that the Beagle would be comfortable in the captain's quarters and won't be able to escape unnoticed. He briefly wonders how Archer has gained permission to bring a dog with him, but since it's a done deed, he has additional security locks installed, so that Porthos won't endanger himself – or anyone else – unwillingly.

He's switched quarters between Hoshi and Ensign Porter, so that she could live on the port side of the ship as she's used from earlier. He also purchased a bonsai for her: a small juniper tree, to liven up her currently rather bleak quarters. Having known Tosh and what imprisonment had done to her, he's certain that Hoshi would need a great deal of cheering up and careful handling, too.

But he still hasn't seen any of the command staff in person, aside from Commander Tucker.

He doesn't really mean the delay, though. Adjusting to the 22nd century, after having spent almost a year in the far future, takes effort, even for him; and he needs to get used to the fact that he's not Ianto Jones anymore. His name is Ifan Daniels now and his family tree can be traced back to his niece, Mica, just to give him some authentic background.

He's fine with that, but it needs some getting used to. He can wait to face the echoes of his past, honestly.


It's still something of a shock when Captain Archer finally shows up in his office, though. The resemblance to Jack – to the younger, still mortal Jack he's seen in the Torchwood Archives, the one travelling with the Ninth Doctor – is gutting.

This version of Jack has all of his forefather's good looks and devastating charm, without the burden of millennia weighing on his shoulders. He does have his own burdens and grievances, sure – who doesn't? – but those are normal, man-sized burdens. Of course, he only has one lifetime to deal with them. He won't bounce back when killed, either, so Ianto swears to himself to do his utmost to prevent him from getting killed.

It's a bit like having a mortal Jack around – without the curse of immortality but also without the mystery that made Jack… well, Jack. If Ianto was worried about falling for him before they met, he is no longer. Jonathan Archer may have Jack's look, even those damned 51st century pheromones can be smelled, despite having been diluted for generations, but he has nothing of what made Jack really Jack: the knowledge, the experience, the past, the mentality of a far future – the tragic losses.

It's odd to consider that, despite coming from an earlier, less advanced time, Ianto knows more about alien menace and what it can do to than every human being on Earth counted together. This is an advantage he has to and intends to use on behalf of his shipmates.

If only he could win Archer's trust and make him listen!

His friends, including Commander Tucker, call Jonathan Archer "Jack". It's common practice in America; a practice Ianto is careful not to adopt, not even mentally. It is of vital importance to remember in every waking moment that Jack Harkness and Jonathan Archer are two different persons. Otherwise he would instinctively expect Archer to be capable of the same things as Jack; and that could have devastating consequences for them all.

There's another trait Jonathan Archer shares with his immortal forefather: the love for Coffee. Commander Charles ("call me Trip") Tucker III has clearly vexed poetics about Ianto's coffee, because the first thing the captain asks of his new quartermaster is to brew him a cup.

Ianto does so, and Jonathan Archer is beyond impressed with the results. He declares Ianto's coffee "orgasmic" and inquires if it would be possible to be treated to the magic liquid on the regular basis. Like once a day, at the very least.

"Once a day," Ianto emphasizes. "I'm not your steward, Captain; and I have extensive duties on this ship."

Archer seems content with that and leaves with a big, white smile on his face; a smile that's so much like Jack's happy grin that Ianto has a hard time to collect himself again.


Lieutenant Reed is the next to show up in the quartermaster's office. For a supposedly buttoned-up Englishman from an upper class family, he's quite obviously mad at somebody – Ianto just can't guess at whom. He certainly can't remember having done anything to deserve the armoury officer's ire.

"How can I help you, Lieutenant?" he asks politely.

"You can tell those idiots of the spare parts department to actually read the requests sent to them," Reed fumes. "I asked for plasma coils and they sent me a case of valve sealants. There's no chance I can have these weapons online in three days when I don't get the necessary parts!"

Ianto knows about that, of course. He already had a rather irritated conversation with the people responsible for the mistake. But he finds it more prudent to play the naïveté card.

"We're just taking an injured man back to his homeworld," he says innocently. "Why do we need weapons?"

The look Reed gives him reveals that he'd just be mentally labelled as one of the idiots.

"Didn't you read the profile report on those Klingons?" the armoury officer asks wryly. "Apparently, they sharpen their teeth before they go into battle!"

This is probably supposed to make Ianto shudder, but after having been mauled by Weevils uncounted times he doesn't even blink. These people really have no idea…

"Have you tried to ask Commander Tucker's help?" he asks instead.

Reed pulls a face. "Repeatedly. He said, and I quote," he assembles a rather poor imitation of Commander Tucker's characteristic Southern drawl. "Keep your shirt on, Lieutenant. Your equipment'll be here in the morning."

"I assume the delay would turn your working schedule upside down," Ianto says with a bland face.

He happens to know that Reed's plasma coils will arrive within the hour, but he doesn't want people to expect the impossible of him all the time. He won't be able to solve every problem once they're out in deep space.

Reed rolls his eyes. "Of course it would, what do you think?"

"I think I'll be able to negotiate with the people in question," Ianto replies calmly. "I'll contact you as soon as I've heard anything of them."

Reed clearly isn't happy with that promise – he seems to be almost as ill-tempered as Owen used to be on a bad day – but Ianto is just smiling at him blandly, so he growls something and leaves.

Ianto thinks a few unfriendly thoughts about genetics and returns to his work. He's requested a meeting with Ensign Mayweather, and until that he has a lot of small tasks to finish.


They meet in the mess hall; a place that Ianto chose specifically so that he can watch the crew with one eye while they are talking. Keeping tab on crew morale is very important, especially as there won't be a ship's counselor on board (they won't be instated until the 24th century) and the chief medical officer is an alien who might or might not understand the human reaction to prolonged stress.

That's something Ianto is very familiar with, though, and he intends to look out for the slightest signs of it, so that Dr Phlox could deal with the problem in time, should it emerge.

At the moment the mess hall is moderately busy. A group of engineers is sitting at one of the long metal tables, having dinner, and a bunch of security officers at another one. In one corner a group of smaller tables, seating four, is reserved for the senior officers, and there is where Ensign Mayweather is already waiting for Ianto.

Strictly seen, non-commissioned personnel aren't allowed to use them, but a chief petty officer is almost a senior officer, and the quartermaster belongs to the command staff.

Sort of.

Besides, Ianto is about to sit with Ensign Mayweather, who is the senior helmsman, so there…

He crosses the mess hall, returning the greetings in his usual, friendly manner, and sits down to Mayweather's table. "Thanks for meeting me, Ensign."

"Travis, please," Mayweather grins, almost shyly. "I'm not senior enough to stand on ceremony yet – hope I'll never be, to be honest."

Ianto grins back at him. "And I'm not even a commissioned officer, so feel free to call me Ifan. Or Ianto, if you like."

"Ianto?" Mayweather tries to repeat, doesn't get it quite right. "What kind of name is that?"

"A Welsh one," Ianto replies. "Ifan is the Welsh version of John, so I guess Ianto would be the same as Johnny. In any case, that's what my family and friends used to call me back home."

Which is a much greater distance, both in space and time, than the young ensign could even begin to imagine.

"Are we friends, then, sir?" Mayweather asks carefully.

He may outrank Ianto, even as an ensign, as commissioned officers automatically outrank non-comms, but the quartermaster is an important person on a ship and is generally much respected.

"I certainly hope that we will be, eventually," Ianto smiles at him. "I intend to put your experience to good use."

Mayweather blinks in surprise. "In what way, if I may ask?"

"We're heading for uncharted territory," Ianto explains. "That's what you space boomers do all your lives. I want to learn from you how we can get supplies, deal with pirates, avoid unwanted encounters – everything about surviving in deep space."

"Hmmm," Mayweather says, clearly amused. "In that case, meet me after your duty shift here," he calls up the ship's schematics on his PADD and marks a specific spot, somewhere between the gravitation generators and the bow plate.

"What for?" Ianto asks in surprise.

The ensign grins like a loon. "You'll see. It's an initiation ritual for mudfoots. Much like it used to be on the sailing ships of old, in earlier centuries."

"Mudfoots?" Ianto echoes.

"Planet-born people," Mayweather clarifies. "Don't worry, you'll like it."

Ianto's not so sure about that. "You're not going to toss me out of an airlock, are you?"

The ensign laughs. "Of course not! You're to go-to guy on this ship; you're more important for us than the Captain himself… well, almost," he corrects himself. "Trust me, it's gonna be fun!"

Ianto doubts that his interpretation of "fun" matches that of Ensign Mayweather but he cannot afford to back off. He realizes that somehow this is the first test he hast to master aboard the Enterprise. He's only hoping it won't turn out as insane and sadistic than the ones in certain college circles.


When he reaches the appointed place of meeting several hours later – it's merely a crossing of corridors, there are dozens if not hundreds of them all over the ship – he can't see Mayweather anywhere… which is annoying. He's worked like crazy all day – post-launch organization is hell on logistics, especially as they had to launch a lot earlier than originally planned – and he's tired. Definitely not in the mood for silly pranks.

He's just about to turn on his heels and leave when he can hear Mayweather's voice, floating somewhere above his head.

"Up here, sir!"

He turns in the direction the voice is coming from… and is baffled. Mayweather is sitting upside down on the ceiling, not showing the slightest sign of discomfort and has clearly been reading something on his PADD.

"Ugh," Ianto says intelligently; this is what must have been felt to be Gwen – not a feeling he likes. "You're upside down, Ensign."

Talk about stating the glaringly obvious. But it definitely isn't what he'd have expected.

"That I am," Mayweather agrees cheerfully, clearly used that kind of reaction, which makes Ianto feel marginally better. Knowing he's not the only idiot on board helps.

"Is there any particular reason why you're doing this?" he asks.

Mayweather nods, which, hanging upside down from the ceiling, is a rather bizarre sight.

"Zero-G can be very relaxing," he explains. When I was a kid, we called it the sweet spot. Every ship's got one."

"Sweet spot?" Ianto repeats, X-rated memories of what that meant when one was affiliated with Jack Harkness resurfacing uninvitedly in his mind. He hopes he hasn't turned beet red, cos that would be hard to explain.

"The location where the artificial gravity field becomes inverted, leading to a reversal of the vertical orientation relative to the rest of the ship," Mayweather explains; obviously, this is an old hat for him. "It's usually about halfway between the grav-generator and the bow plate. Come, get up here! You're not counted as a proper space traveller until you've tried it."

Ianto's still more than a little doubtful, but it seems reasonably safe and he doesn't want to lose the ensign's respect.

"How do I do it?" he asks.

Mayweather grins encouragingly and points to a thin conduit that crosses below him. "Grab hold of that conduit first."

Ianto reaches for the conduit, still suspicious that this may be some elaborate practical joke, after all.

"Now swing your legs up," Mayweather instructs.

Ianto hesitates. He knows, intellectually, that if there's indeed a zero G zone, he can do it, without getting injured or making a fool of himself. In theory. But he's always been too careful to test unproved theories.

Mayweather rolls his expensive eyes with tolerant amusement.

"Mudfoots," he mutters good-naturedly, and there's unmistakable pity in his tone. "What are you afraid of? I told you it's safe… and that you'll like it. Now, swing your legs already!"

Ianto remembers Jack and how he brazenly stormed headfirst into everything (which, admittedly, got him killed half the times) and how he, Ianto, always envied that spontaneity (even if it's got him killed by the 456) – and swings his legs up.

To his amazement, they stay up. His body instinctively curls itself into a foetal position and he's actually floating in zero G! He makes a surprised noise and Mayweather laughs.

"Now let go," he instructs.

Ianto releases his grip – and remains floating in mid-air. It is a feeling of such incredible freedom that he could cry of the sheer joy of it. Nothing he's gone through at Torchwood, or in the 31st century for that matter, can ever come close to this.

He's grinning from ear to ear as he tries to turns, so that his head would be up – not that it would really count in zero G, it's just what he's used to as a human being. Unfortunately, he doesn't have full control of his body under such circumstances and would crash onto the ceiling where Mayweather is sitting, if the ensign didn't reach out to stop his momentum.

"It takes practice," Mayweather says apologetically and helps him into a sitting position next to himself. "Well? Do you like it or do you like it?"

"It's incredible," Ianto admits, still grinning in delight.

"This is nothing," Mayweather says. "Wait till you've slept in zero G!"

"Slept?" Ianto echoes in surprise.

Mayweather grins. "It's like being back in the womb."

The mere idea of that fills Ianto with violent claustrophobia but he decides not to voice it. It is understandable that space boomers would find small, confined spaces safe and comforting. Mayweather probably had a hard time getting used to life in an open, natural environment.

"Have you been to many inhabited planets while growing up?" he then asks.

Mayweather nods. "At least a dozen… or more. The farthest we ever got was to Trillius Prime. Took me the fourth, fifth and sixth grades to get there. I've also been to Draylax and both the Teneebian Moons. What about you?"

"I've only been to one inhabited planet besides Earth and I'm afraid that was a classified mission," Ianto confesses.

That earns him a wary look from the young ensign. "Are you from Starfleet Intelligence or what?"

"Of course not!" Ianto laughs. I'm just a bureaucrat, remember? But even people on classified missions need to eat and to have clean clothes and stuff, and that's what I do basically everywhere I'm assigned to a job."

Which is a lie, of course, at least in this particular case, but a convincing one, as it contains a great deal of truth. Then one of the names Mayweather has mentioned rings a bell. One of those planets has featured in Jack's outrageous stories.

"I've heard the women on Draylax have..."

Mayweather is nodding before he could finish the sentence. "Three... it's true."

Ianto can't decide whether to be impressed that another one of Jack's seemingly hilarious tales has just turned out to be one. "You know that first-hand?"

Mayweather grins; it is a grin that would make Jack proud. "First-hand, second-hand, and third-hand."

Ianto grins back, although in his grin there's a great deal of sadness and nostalgia.

"I guess growing up a boomer has its advantages," he shifts positions. "Well, thank you for initiating me into the elated circle of proper space travellers, Ensign."

"Travis," the young man corrects. "Or I'll keep 'sirring' you until your ears start to bleed."

"Travis it is," Ianto agrees. "Now, how do I get down there again? Captain Archer is having dinner with Commander Tucker and our Vulcan lady, and I must see that they're served properly."

"But you're not the captain's personal steward," Mayweather points out, helping him to get back down to solid ground.

"True; and I won't let him get used to it. But this is the first such dinner since we left Earth, and given how both the captain and Commander Tucker think about Vulcans, it may be helpful to be there and smooth over the waves," Ianto shakes himself and pulls his uniform to its place. "Besides, I've talked Chef into preparing Vulcan food and I'd like to see how it turns out. Might even give the leftovers a try," he adds, grinning.

"You're a vegetarian?" Mayweather asks in surprise.

Ianto shrugs. "Not on principle. I just had a very bad experience a couple of years ago that put me off eating meat ever since. Perhaps one day I'll get over it; but even if I won't… there are worse things than eating vegetables for the rest of my life."

Mayweather agrees with that statement and they part ways to go about their respective businesses.


The dinner at the captain's mess room is every bit as awkward as Ianto expected it to be. Both men are clearly holding grudges against the Vulcans and don't really bother to hide it. Commander Tucker behaves like a pig – Ianto is reminded of Jack's table manners at his worst – and Captain Archer, while better mannered than his ancestor, uses every opportunity to challenge his new science officer, who reacts with an attitude that only makes things worse. At least she finds the food 'adequate', which, as Ianto was told, is the highest praise one can expect from a Vulcan.

And she's sexy as hell – in a detached, icy way no human woman could ever be. Ianto's wondering if she knows how that catsuit of a uniform she's wearing affects practically every male on board (and even some of the females, apparently), and if she'd chose to wear a regular Starfleet uniform is she knew. Vulcans clearly pay considerably less attention to one's physical form – which is only logical, as it's a transient state, so it makes sense that they'd prefer clothing that is practical, before everything else, and a uniform with thermal lining is eminently practical when one has to serve in a much colder environment than one is used to.

Unfortunately, humans are less than practical in that aspect. Ianto can tell that both Captain Archer and Commander Tucker are… interested, to phrase it politely, despite their general feelings towards Vulcans and their meddling with Earth's affairs. He even caught Lieutenant Reed nearly drooling over their science officer, although the armoury officer is a rather cold and detached person himself – almost like a Vulcan, in truth. On the other hand, he's related to Owen, of course, which would explain things.

Ianto briefly considers warning the Vulcan about the whole thing, but in the end he decides against it. T'Pol has been assigned to the Vulcan embassy on Earth for several years, previously to this mission. She had enough time to learn what human males are like. Besides, she's a grown woman; she can take care of herself. Even against Captain Archer who seems to have inherited Jack's forceful personality as well as a great deal of his devastating charm.

It would be interesting to see how Jack and T'Pol would react to each other, Ianto thinks while collecting the used dishes and promising to deliver Chef the compliments. It would probably be a disaster – Jack could be worse than Archer and Tucker together. On the other hand, he did always have the knack of getting what he needed, even from the most unlikely people, and Ianto feels woefully inadequate, burdened by the task of saving mankind's future on his own.

But this is something he has to do, regardless if he manages to win Archer's cooperation or not. That's what Torchwood was about, and now that he's the only one left, he must see to get it done.

Later, in the galley, he does sample Vulcan food indeed and finds it tasty, even if a little bland. Vulcans are clearly as subdued in their culinary tastes as in everything else. Still, with a few spices added, this is a cuisine he could get used to.

"You've outdone yourself, Chef," he says and the round, bearded face of their head cook shines with pride. "If you decide to quit Starfleet and open a Vulcan restaurant somewhere call me and I'll take over the management. With our combined skills we'd get obscenely rich in no time."

"Only if you make the coffee," Chef replies, grinning, and slips him a tin box with freshly made biscuits. "Here, take these with you. You'll need something to snack on while wrestling paperwork into its knees."

Ianto thanks him and returns to his office. Serving at the captain's mess has disturbed his schedule and there's indeed an ungodly amount of paperwork to deal with. It promises to be a long night (or a very short one, where actual sleep is considered), but he's used to it. He used to live on even less sleep while working for Torchwood Three.

~TBC~