A/N: Fifty chapters. Wow. I didn't think this would go past twenty. I really would love to continue this for an extra one or two stories I've had playing in my mind. So far we've had the stories (with my nicknames for them) Cara the Student, Imaginarium, The Roaring Twenties, Political Process and now this one The League of Sparro. Trying to keep it similar to an actual thirteen episode series, I imagine some of them would be double episodes and we'd be somewhere around episode eight? No idea, just trying to work out how much everyone would care for the characters right now. I would like to thank the following people for their recent reviews on this fic: Valerie E. Mackin, MelodyCurious, DoubleHeartedHuman, Dionysus69, MaluTyler, tardischick and Plantty, who agrees Moffat stole that line from me. (All I'm saying is if Clara is exactly like Cara, you know where Moffat got it from) thanks to any Guest reviews and new favs/follows! Sorry if I missed anyone! The ending of this episode is quite mild, simply because I've been planning the next adventure, more than I did with this one.
Chapter Fifty: The Third Offer
Cara didn't know what to think, never mind what to do.
The soldiers, however, jumped to their feet, guns at the ready, shouting frantic instructions to one another. Jack and the Doctor yelled at the same time, urging everyone to calm down and stop. No one was listening – everything was so incoherent – even Elizabeth Ferrell had started to bellow instructions at her men, reminding them to wait for instructions.
Someone fired a single shot.
Whether it was by accident or on purpose, Cara didn't care to find out. The bullet soared through the air and missed Clicky the robot by mere inches. For one brief moment everything stopped and everyone stayed still. No one dared to move.
Clicky angled his head and his right arm rose. He clicked three more times. A brilliant red flame shot out from his metal hand, aiming for the soldier closest to him. The man ducked just in time, lost his balance and fell into the river. Instinct made Cara move in his direction, wanting to help him because no one else seemed to care. The Doctor pushed her roughly back and started to walk towards Clicky and the other approaching robots at the threshold of their ship.
Cara stumbled back into Jack, who placed a secure hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off and followed the Doctor anyway, giving a glance to Flynn to tell him not to follow. Jack confirmed this by whispering to Flynn, "Let her go, but stay here. I need someone down this end."
Flynn didn't object, he just gave a single nod to say he understood.
The Doctor walked as close to Clicky as he safely could, completely aware of Cara behind him. He took out the alien device from the Isle of Warrow and gave it a single click. A purple sheen of light fell down, forming an invisible but slightly lilac tinted wall between them and the robots.
"What was that he just used?" asked Flynn in a whisper to Jack.
"Looks like some electronic shielding device from the Isle of Warrow. I have something similar back in my base," he explained.
Flynn nodded and fell silent to watch the proceedings. Jack looked over to the woman, Elizabeth Ferrell, to make sure she was playing along and not causing any trouble. He could see that her eyes were wide and fascinated as she stared at the Doctor behind her silver glasses. Perhaps she was stunned into a watchful silence – Jack wasn't exactly complaining.
The Doctor showed no trace of amusement or humour. He was cold and brave with a taste of anger, his eyes prying while his mind raced with different plans of action and back up escape routes. Cara could practically hear it whizz beside her – not only did it impress her, it sent a shiver down her spine.
"The thing is Clicky," he started. "Mind if I call you Clicky? My good friend Cara here came up with it."
The robot did nothing but click.
"I'll take that as a yes." Out of the corner of her eyes, Cara could see the Doctor take out his sonic screwdriver from his jacket pocket. "I know who Sparro is now. It's an organisation that builds robots, different robots depending on what is asked for, and they ship them off to conduct experiments or search primitive cultures. Almost like an intergalactic warehouse with the capacity to ship anywhere. Am I correct?"
"Correct," the robot clicked.
"Sometimes, if the price is right, Sparro personalises a batch or robots and sends them directly to the purchaser. All top secret, underhand, illegal in some areas. For instance, you Clicky, are part of a batch of robots especially designed for battle. War robots. Special ordered by a mysterious customer who has their own means of using you. It's different if a company; let's say who design kitchens, orders robots from Sparro. That's legal. But if a personal buyer orders a batch of robots designed to kill and other robots designed to create weapons of war – it's completely illegal. Now, before I get into a different conversation on morals, I need to ask you: who exactly was it who ordered you?"
Clicky paused. He lowered his outstretched arm and turned his creaky head to the small and round yellow robot standing beside him.
"Our coordinates were lost," the small robot beeped.
"I'm guessing you're the chief navigator," mused the Doctor. "Something pulled you out of your designated course. You accidentally crashed here. But why?"
"If I could interrupt, Doctor," shouted Jack from a few metres away. "Since the Daleks invaded, the rift has been a little more obscure than it usually is. Stronger signals, infrequent patterns."
It all clicked in Cara's mind. "You said a rift in time and space. Cardiff was built on the rift. That's why we came here in the first place. Maybe the rift accidentally dragged their ship down?"
It may have been a simple deduction, but Cara felt pretty pleased with herself for at least understanding the science behind the happenings.
"That would explain why pieces of their ship have been showing up in the river months before the crash. Remember what Sergeant Larry Leland showed us? Those parts were the lightning before the storm. They were going to crash through the rift sooner or later," the Doctor explained, his brow furrowed as he thought it through. "Your engineers are trying to repair the ship, yes?"
"That is correct," beeped the smaller robot.
"They've been designed for war, so their first response was to kill any unfamiliar life forms," the Doctor told her. "That's why they attacked you and then later attacked us again." He turned back to the robots and asked, "Are you missing parts? What do you need?"
"Wait a minute," interrupted Cara. "We can't send them on their way! They'll be used in war – we can't let that happen on some far off planet!"
The Doctor raised an incredulous eyebrow as he looked over to her. "You really think I'd let that happen? They've lost their coordinates, and I intend to send them back to Sparro with a nice little reminder of what the Shadow Proclamation would do if they ever found out about their illegal business deals."
"Have to give some things the benefit of the doubt sometimes, Cara," said Jack with a slight shrug. "Otherwise there would be no businesses left in the world."
Cara thought this was a little unfair. This illegal business deal had caused problems to Cardiff and those who lived there, not to mention the potential threat of creating a war, or making an old one worse. Yet, all they were going to get was a gentle telling off and a chance to do the same thing all over again.
"Will you let us send you back to Sparro? I bet I can fix your submarine in a jiffy." As the Doctor said it, he seemed to sense Cara's disapproval, and he couldn't exactly blame her for feeling that way. He was reluctant to let Sparro get away so easily as well.
Clicky was using his physic link to his other robots to confer on the decision. Cara could tell this from the prolonged silence and absence of clicking from the main robot. Some soldiers had started to shuffle uncomfortably, and she was surprised how Elizabeth Ferrell hadn't interrupted yet.
"We accept your offer," responded Clicky, with a few more clicks.
"Good! Come on, Jack. Help me get to work." The Doctor beckoned his old friend and deactivated the shielding device. Cara stepped aside, her head low as the formal stance became informal and relaxed once more.
Jack went to help the Doctor but Elizabeth had pulled his arm to hold him back. "I think my men and I are going to leave you to it. You obviously know what you're doing more than me. Aliens are your expertise, after all," she said with a hint of reluctance.
He smiled and shook her hand, saying sincerely, "Thank you."
It didn't take the Doctor long to fix the alien submarine with the help of Jack. Especially since Elizabeth Ferrell had removed her troops from the area. The robots left without any further hassle, and Cara didn't complain as she watched them go. Currently, Jack was fiddling with some sort of device or gadget on his arm; it looked similar to a watch but it definitely wasn't from the twenty-first century. The Doctor was watching him out of the corner of his eye as his friend pressed random buttons, as if he was typing.
"Message sent to the Shadow Proclamation. Just a cheeky little text to say to look out for the company Sparro," said Jack with a bright grin.
The Doctor was impassive as he said, "I thought I stopped that from working."
"Doctor, Torchwood wouldn't still be here if it wasn't for my gadgetry and technological talents."
"What is Torchwood?" Flynn asked the question he'd wanted to ask for ages. "I mean, I have a rough idea, but no one has explained it properly."
"A group of fighters, based right here in Cardiff," Jack explained with nothing but pride. "The twenty-first century is when it all changes, and we've got to be ready. We're not connected to the government and we go beyond the police. We investigate anything to do with aliens and use new technology to arm ourselves against possible threats. What I really mean is when the Doctor isn't around to solve a problem, we take over."
The Doctor sniffed. "But with a lot more guns and violence than I would recommend," he added.
"You got your way of doing things, and I got mine," Jack retorted with a wink. "Some of your old companions have helped us out, Doc. It all started because of you."
"Speaking of which," the Doctor hurried to change the conversation topic. "I want to ask you something, Jack."
Cara smiled as she guessed what was going to happen.
"Come with us. Just for a while, if you want," he offered.
Jack grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief. He pretended to consider the offer for a long moment. Hands on his hips, and dimples pronounced on his cheeks, Jack agreed, "Alright. But just a few trips."
