Lord Charles Montgomery, Governor of Jamaica, had the appearance of a lugubrious man. He rarely smiled, he never laughed, and he spent much of his life in a darkened office, surrounded by reams of paper, endless documents written in Latin, and books that gave the impression of having been old and outmoded before Jamaica had ever heard of English, Latin, or lugubrious governors. He was, in short, a man for whom humour was unnecessary, and formality a vital requirement. His white wig was always industriously powdered, his face almost as much so, and his clothing was stygian black. His life followed an unshakeable routine, and the only pleasure he allowed himself within that routine was the ruthless hunting of the pirates that plagued his seas. Tuesdays were hanging days, when all the pirates and suspected pirates that his men had rounded up, were taken out of their cells and sent to meet their Maker. Lord Charles liked Tuesdays. He looked forward to them. On a Tuesday his lugubriousness faded to a mere decorous solemnity. On a Wednesday, when it was a whole week before his strict law could once again be piously upheld, he was best left alone. On a Wednesday his staff didn't dare speak within his hearing, unless he had ordered them otherwise.
Which was why they were less than delighted when, on a day that was inescapably a Wednesday, the Governor's peace and quiet seemed certain to shatter. It began with the dawn, when whispers came from the docks of an accident that had befallen the local fishermen, and it grew with the rising of the sun into an unbelievable tale of a sea monster and a seething mass of sharks. Fishermen drank themselves into a shared stupor at the docks, and yelled incomprehensible stories at passers-by, claiming that they had wrested themselves from the jaws of a massive green beast that had risen from the waters. The local garrison reported all of the stories to the Governor's residence, and at first laughed about them with the Governor's staff; then worried over them; and finally, when the stories kept coming, and the first few torn chunks of the dead began to wash ashore, began to panic. Something had happened. Something had killed the fishermen, something had terrified the survivors, and something had begun to frighten the local people. Rumours were rising, growing, spreading. People were beginning to keep away from the water, and to barricade themselves into their homes. Shops were shutting, the parson was shouting about justice from heaven, and hopelessly drunken fishermen were beginning to run about in the streets, banging on doors, screaming largely unintelligible warnings, and brawling with the soldiers sent to calm them down. Nobody knew what to think, but there was no hiding from the fact that something was wrong. The fishermen didn't usually come into town until their boats were full of fish, and they were ready to set up in the marketplace. They didn't arrive at dawn, with empty boats or no boats at all, and they didn't get drunk until they had sold their catch, and had the money to spare. They told tall tales, and they frequently talked of sea monsters - but never like this. Never with so much fear. And never before had their tales come with bloodied evidence washed in by the waves. The Governor's staff were beginning to realise that they were going to have to pass on at least some of the morning's events to Lord Charles, and to that end, set about drawing lots to decide which of them would do it. They were still arguing over the results of the draw when word came from the commander of the local garrison. There was a stranger in town, and he claimed to know something about the monster. Completely at a loss, but glad for the chance to have a buffer between himself and his employer, Lord Charles's chief aide told the commander to bring the stranger to the Governor's residence. If anybody was going to be roasted over slow coals for bringing talk of sea monsters before the Governor, at least this way it might not be him.
"So." Sitting up tall in his massive chair, and glaring over the surface of his even mightier desk, Lord Charles Montgomery directed the most fearsome stare in his repertoire at the group ranged before him. Smyth, his chief aide, fussed nervously, whilst Smyth's own chief aide fiddled with several sheets of paper that bore no relevance to anything, but which he had brought with him just for something to do with his hands. The commander of the garrison, a tall colonel with an impressive moustache, straightened his shoulders almost to breaking point, and the two sentries he had brought with him did their best not to fidget. Standing in between them, clearly being flanked officially but not seeming to notice it, the stranger smiled a greeting.
"You must be the Governor. I've heard a lot about you."
"Really." Lord Charles clearly didn't care. "This is the prisoner, Colonel Abrams?"
"Prisoner?" The prisoner himself obviously didn't agree. "Nobody said anything about prisoners. How am I a prisoner?"
"Does this man have a name?" The Governor sounded bored. Smyth, who knew that this was a danger sign, began to look even more flustered that before.
"Captain Jack Harkness," declared the prisoner, as though it were the greatest piece of information in the world. He made as though to shake hands, but the two sentries crossed their muskets in front of him, effectively preventing his advance. "Well that's not very friendly. Look, I came here to warn you people, not to get arrested. Just what am I being arrested for, anyway?"
"Well, Colonel?" Lord Charles eyed the commander of the garrison with hugely disinterested eyes. "Why is he under arrest?"
"The current charges are incitement, causing a disturbance, and theft, your lordship. Possibly murder." Colonel Abrams ignored Jack's obvious outrage. "The town is in the grip of a fever this morning. Tales of sea monsters. Fishermen supposedly torn to shreds. There's panic everywhere, and somebody is obviously behind it. I would suggest that a band of thieves are hoping to make the most of the panic, and have created this situation on purpose. They may even have killed several fishermen in order to give their story more weight."
"You do realise that that makes no sense at all?" Jack pushed aside the two muskets blocking his path, and took a few steps closer to the desk. "Listen, Governor. Those fishermen were killed by a monster. You don't have to believe in it, but it's out there. Talk to the survivors."
"I neither need nor wish to speak to drunken fishermen." Lord Charles frowned heavily. "Theft, you say?"
"Look at him, your lordship. Expensive clothes, a silk shirt - and the boots of a common fisherman. He's obviously some sailor who has stolen a gentleman's clothes."
"Can't I be a gentleman who's stolen a fisherman's boots?" Jack looked from the colonel to the Governor and back again. "You can't prove any of that, you know."
"If your Excellency would like to look closer..." Abrams pushed Jack forward suddenly, so that he almost crashed into the desk, "you'll see that the scarf he's wearing is one of the ones stolen from your wife's bedchamber last week, when your residence was burgled. I recognise it. Your wife was good enough to give me a very detailed list of her missing belongings."
"Stolen?" Jack's hand went automatically to the scarf, still knotted immovably around his throat. Oh, great move Anne and Josiah, or whoever had put the blasted thing on him. "Listen, I was given--"
"My wife's you say?" Lord Charles reached for a pair of spectacles, and held them up to his eyes to peer at the scarf. "Ah yes. Part of set. Gift from her sister, I think. Congratulations, colonel. Very well spotted."
"Thankyou, your Excellency." Abrams eyed Jack coldly. "My men are already trying to limit the damage caused by him and his friends. Once everybody has realised that there is no sea monster, the town can return to normal. I'll get him to tell me about his confederates, and about what happened to the fishermen who were killed, and then we can hang him. Unless you'd rather wait for next Tuesday?"
"Hang me?" Jack looked from one to the other of them. "For what? Bad choice of fashion accessory? Listen, I didn't steal any silk scarves. This is hardly my colour. If I'd stolen it, I'd have gone for something in blue. Believe it or not, I came to town to warn you people. There really is a monster out there, and chances are it's heading this way. It won't be able to resist."
"I don't think we need wait until next Tuesday." Lord Charles might have smiled, had he been of a different temperament. Instead the momentary loss of the bored look in his eyes signified that he was pleased by the idea. "Round up the fishermen and make sure that they're watching. We'll hang him at sundown."
"Very good, your lordship." Colonel Abrams nodded solemnly. "Thankyou for your time."
"Now hang on a minute!" Jack winced, rather regretting his own choice of phrase. "I haven't done anything. Don't I get a trial?"
"You just got a trial." Abrams nodded to his sentries, who began to manhandle their prisoner towards the door. "That's probably more than your accomplices will get."
"Great. You're a real bundle of joy, you know that?" Jack went along with the general push for the door, having decided that it was less than prudent to fight too hard when there was a musket pressed against his back. They hadn't searched him, so for the time being at least he was still armed, and not greatly concerned about the threatened hanging - but the injustice of it all still bit. He was here to help, and they were accusing him of being some kind of nut desperate to cause chaos. If his teleport had been working he would have disappeared straight out of there, back to his ship, to leave the ungrateful sods to their fates. His mind drifted to thoughts of Josiah, and he scowled. Yes, alright, so maybe he wouldn't abandon them all to be eaten. But it was a nice idea, at least temporarily.
"Where are we going?" he asked, as they left the mansion and its spectacular gardens behind, and headed back towards the main part of town. He might as well make conversation; he didn't fancy his chances of drawing his laser pistol and doing anything useful with it before the musket pressed into his spine went off. Compared to his own weapon the musket was a primitive relic, but that didn't mean that it didn't work - a lead ball being blasted into his back by exploding gunpowder didn't strike him as something wildly enjoyable.
"We're going to the town gaol." Abrams moved into the lead, clearly enjoying parading at the head of the little party. One or two people peered out of their houses, but they met nobody in the street. The town was all but deserted. There was no sound at all save an off beat melody of drunken yelling, faded by distance, that seemed to come from the water's edge. Jack caught a glimpse of a fishermen helping a pair of soldiers drag what looked like the lower half of a man up onto the harbour. The fisherman was drunk, the soldiers were retching, and even at a distance there was a smell of blood on the sea breeze. And the redoubtable Colonel Abrams thought that he was responsible for this? He might have felt insulted, if he hadn't been so royally pissed off at having been arrested just for trying to help.
"Town gaol, huh." Well that wasn't too bad. Being locked up was okay, and his gun should make short work of the lock. All he would need would be a few moments when there were no guards around, and he could be out of his cell and on his way back to the Shark's Tooth Inn before anybody had discovered he was missing. At the worst he'd have to wait a few hours for the right opportunity, and that didn't matter. He could try contacting the ship's computer, and seeing how far the auto-repair had got towards making the ship space-worthy once again. He might even see about catching up on some sleep. Whatever exactly had happened last night, it hadn't felt particularly restful. Sleep could be just what he needed.
The first sign that things were not necessarily going to be so easy came when they arrived at the town gaol, and it turned out to be a massive stone fortress. Well, that wasn't altogether bad. He had escaped from a stone fortress before. Admittedly he had had a little help from a remote control bomb, but nonetheless, he had escaped. It didn't take long, though, before things became considerably less encouraging. They didn't search him; they didn't confiscate his gun, or his teleport remote, or his wrist computer - but they did chain his hands together with a set of large and very heavy manacles, then push him into a cell that looked like it had been built to withstand an asteroid strike. It was on the ground floor - definitely his favourite floor to escape from - but there was no lock on the inside of the door, the door itself was three inches of metal, and the only window, above his head, was barely big enough for a child to squeeze through. Not that a child would have been able to squeeze through it anyway, with the bars getting in the way. The door clanged shut with an unpleasant finality, and he set about trying to get to his gun. It could probably still deal with the door, though it might be rather a drain on its power supply. The problem was that with no window in the door, he couldn't tell whether there was anybody outside on guard. The problem also seemed to be that he couldn't get hold of the damn gun. He tried contorting his body into every shape it seemed capable of attaining, but the chain connecting the cuffs was just too short, and the gun seemed determined to stay out of reach. Next time, he was definitely hiding it in the front of his shirt, rather than around the back; although if his luck stayed like this, next time he'd have his hands tied behind him, and would be wishing he'd hidden the gun where it was now. Always supposing, of course, that there was a next time, and he hadn't been hanged by then. The thought renewed his efforts, and with further struggles and some inventive swearing, he finally got hold of the gun. It fell onto the floor at his feet, and he grinned at it triumphantly. Now, however, came the really tricky part.
He tried listening at the door, but he couldn't hear anything definite through it. The wall was equally unhelpful. In a fit of wishful thinking he called up his ship on his wrist computer, to see if he could just teleport himself out of the cell, but predictably enough the auto-repair hadn't got as far as fixing the teleport yet. The ship's computer was very friendly and polite about it, and offered to play him some music while he waited, but he declined. He wasn't in the mood for jaunty tunes right now; and besides, he needed to try to listen. If he managed to get the cell door open using his gun, it was going to be all but empty afterwards, so he wouldn't stand much chance of shooting his way out. Neither was he going to be doing his best ever fighting with his hands chained together. He needed to be as sure as he could that there were no guards outside his door. With this in mind he settled himself down on the ground, his head resting against the door, and closed his eyes to listen. Silence reigned. Now if he could just catch the tiniest sound... A scratching from nearby broke his concentration, and he frowned.
"Hey?" A voice, very low and quiet, followed by another scratch and a rattle. He opened his eyes. What the hell! Somebody was throwing stones through the window, and making an almighty racket in the process. "Hey! Jack! Jack, are you in there?"
"Huh?" Jack sat up straight, staring up at the bars, then leapt to his feet and went over to stand against the far wall. Whoever was outside threw another handful of stones through the window, and they rattled noisily down onto the floor. "Hey! Watch it!"
"Jack!" This time the whisper was louder. "Are you well?"
"Yeah. Splendid." His unexpected guest clearly had no grasp of sarcasm, for the reply, however hoarsely whispered, sounded delighted.
"That's wonderful. Can you come to the window?"
"I am at the window." He sighed, then summoning his strength, jumped up to catch hold of one of the bars. He hung there for a moment, thinking rude thoughts about architects, high windows, and the manufacturers of manacles, then hauled himself up so that he could look out. Down below him, on what looked to be a narrow cliff path, stood Josiah and Anne. Josiah was grinning hugely.
"Jack!" He sounded overjoyed. "I thought perhaps I'd seen the last of you."
"Sorry to disappoint." Jack frowned down at the pair of them. "I'd invite you in, but I'm having a few problems with the door."
"I assure you, Jack, it's no disappointment." Josiah's smile receded to one of a more restrained, though obvious, contentment. "There's considerable havoc. The fishermen are drunk, the soldiers are angry. Fortunately they're too concerned with each other to have noticed me."
"Which won't necessarily last." Anne was trying to keep watch as best she could. "You're the most wanted man in the Caribbean, Josiah. Being here now is foolish to the extreme."
"But worth it." The pirate captain frowned in thought for a moment. "How solid are those bars, Jack?"
"Solid, not that I can fit through the window anyway. And the door's solider. I think I can open it if you can deal with the guards, but it does mean you'd have to get inside the building first." He smiled, despite the discomfort of his position. "Preferably not the same way I got in."
"We'll see what we can do. Count to five hundred, slowly, then open the door. We should be with you by then. If we're not, we probably won't be coming at all." Josiah looked flushed with excitement, or possibly just from the after-effects of the previous night's rum. "Start counting. Good luck."
"And you." Jack flashed them both a parting grin, but they were already running off. Left alone, he dropped back down to the floor and started to count. Josiah had seemed so reserved before; now here he was dashing merrily into the lion's den just to try to rescue a man that he barely knew. That was either a hell of a drinking session they had shared, or the pirate captain had a whole other side to his personality. If it was the latter, then it was extremely promising, to say nothing of enticing. Jack smiled to himself, somewhat wolfishly, then retrieved his gun and checked the power levels. There ought to be enough juice in it, although not enough to tackle the handcuffs as well. He toyed with the gun restlessly, counting all the while, and trying not to let his mind wander. One hundred - what was Josiah doing? Cracking skulls, picking locks, exchanging shots with soldiers? Two hundred - fighting for his life, or slipping in without a care in the world? Three hundred - Jack could hear nothing, and it was driving him mad. Was Josiah still coming, or was he lying dead in a corridor somewhere, with a musket ball in his chest? Four hundred - was Anne fighting valiantly against streams of soldiers, or being hurled, even now, into a neighbouring cell? Jack shut the images out; he had to concentrate now, and begin work at blasting the door. Squaring his shoulders, he took up position near to the door, aimed the gun at round about where the lock should be on the other side, and pulled the trigger. A flash of blue light burst from the muzzle, and a blue and white splash impacted upon the metal. There was some degree of ricochet, but it did little more than make the straw on the ground smoulder. He kept his aim steady, and watched as the metal heated up; as the door began to glow. The gun began to hum, and he knew that there was not much power left in it. He was close, though - he had to be. Close to breaking out into a waiting group of guards, though? Or had Josiah and Anne won through? The gun hummed louder. The door glowed more brightly, and he thought that he saw it vibrate.
"Come on... Come on..." The power had to last. The gun had to have just that last little bit of juice left in it. He pulled the trigger harder, as though somehow that might help, and stared intently into the blue-white glow. In his head he was still counting - four hundred and eighty now, and advancing all the while. There was no chance of hearing anything from the other side of the door with the gun humming its low power warning, and the laser burning its way through the metal. For all he knew, Josiah wasn't coming. For all he knew, Josiah was dead.
With a gurgle from the gun that didn't sound at all healthy, and a fizz of half-boiled molten metal, suddenly a chunk of the door was disappearing in a burst of blue-white light. Jack didn't take the time to cheer. He slammed his shoulder into the door, and with a creak of protesting hinges it swung open. He snapped the gun up straight away, coming out of the cell at a half crouch, ready for attack. He met silence. Two guards lay unconscious on the floor, and Anne stood over them with a musket held comfortably in her arms. She frowned at the gun in Jack's hands, but said nothing. Jack stuck it into his belt rather guiltily. He had already allowed an entire ship's crew to see it in action - so much for keeping futuristic technology a secret.
"Jack!" Josiah's hard hand clapped him sharply on the shoulder. Taken entirely by surprise by the other man's sudden appearance, Jack was glad he had put away his gun. He might have tried to shoot Josiah otherwise.
"Hello." He spoke with a fondness that rather surprised even himself. "I was worried about you."
"No need for that." The pirate captain sounded as though he was enjoying all of this. "The place is all but deserted. Everybody is out rounding up drunken fishermen, or trying to persuade the townspeople that there's nothing to be scared of. It was hardly any effort getting here at all. Your monster is a good distraction even when he's not in sight."
"He's not my monster." Jack smiled, suddenly rather tired. He had been expecting battles and gunfire, and the vanishing of built up tension left him oddly drained. "Thankyou. Both of you."
"Our pleasure." Josiah grinned, suddenly looking conspiratorial. "Well, my pleasure. I rather think that Anne would have left you to hang."
"Perhaps I don't form attachments as fast as some people." Anne glanced out of the door, into the corridor that led back to the outside world. "We should get moving. Somebody could come at any moment."
"True. We should see about getting rid of these manacles, though." Josiah took Jack's hands, turning them over to look at the chain and the cuffs. "An infernal invention. What was it that you used to open the door? It seemed to make short work of the metal."
"A weapon. But it needs reloading, and I'm out of... powder." It was hard to think in terms of eighteenth century armaments, but Josiah seemed content with his explanation.
"Fascinating weapon, in that case. Perhaps you can show it to me? When you show me your ship?"
"Yeah." Well why the hell not - Josiah had already seen two spaceships crash into the sea, and an alien beast project a holographic image of itself. And what the Time Agency didn't know about, they couldn't make any objection to. So long as Josiah didn't decide to open a factory producing laser guns in 1735, anyway. He considered reclaiming his hands, but decided that he quite liked having them where they were. "So what's the verdict on the manacles?"
"Ah." The pirate coloured slightly, suddenly realising that he still had Jack's hands in his. "Well, they're... resilient. I could try to pick the locks, but it might take me some time."
"And we should be going," pointed out Anne from the doorway. Josiah nodded.
"We really should."
Jack grinned rather wickedly. "Probably. But shouldn't I be thanking you properly for the rescue first? Hell, even in a place where nobody knows me, I do still have a reputation to protect."
"You do?" Josiah's eyes began to trail towards the door - or more precisely towards Anne, who could presumably hear everything - but they stopped themselves, and turned themselves back towards Jack. "What reputation?"
"Oh, you know." Jack's smile became considerably more predatory. "Courtesy. Gallantry. Chivalry. Infinite charm..." Suddenly his bound hands were behind Josiah's neck, the short chain of the manacles making the perfect means by which to draw the pirate's head towards his own. "To say nothing of a quite legendary allure." He leaned forward, and kissed Josiah lightly on the lips. It was a gamble - he could never be sure if they were going to kiss him back or punch him in the mouth when they came from eras so long before his own. Josiah merely smiled, looking faintly abashed.
"You missed out modesty."
Jack grinned, and pulled him back in for another, harder kiss. "Is that one of the Seven Sins?"
"No."
"Then that probably explains why I've never got the hang of it."
"Pleasant though this no doubt is..." Anne was watching them with a look of obvious irritation. "We came here to rescue the man, Josiah. Not to join him in prison."
"Yes." Josiah smiled, looking faintly giddy. "Um... could we perhaps... pick this up at a later date?"
"I can take a raincheck. If I really have to." Jack let him go, then followed him to the door, stopping to take the sword and pistol from one of the unconscious guards. The sword he stuck into his belt beside his laser pistol, but the gun he kept to hand. Not that he would be able to use the thing more than once, but it had a pleasing weight to it, and made him feel ready for action. "Talking of rescues, how did you know where I was?"
"I told you that if you came to town you'd get arrested. It wasn't some great feat of logic. And I've surveyed the gaol before as best I could. Forewarned is forearmed, as I'm sure you can appreciate." Josiah directed him to watch a fork in the corridor, whilst Anne peered down another. "There was only one cell where a strange man was speaking in words I couldn't understand, to a woman who didn't appear to be there. You're not a hard man to identify, Jack. You stand out rather."
"Thanks." Jack couldn't resist interpreting that as a compliment. "All clear this way."
"And this." Anne led them on again, the musket still cradled in her arms. "But to me it's not just Captain Jack who speaks nonsense. You spoke of this 'monster' as though it were real. You spoke the same way last night, both of you. I thought it was the rum talking, but you both appear to be sober now. Or so I thought before the kissing."
"We are sober. And the monster is real." Talk of the Kamon brought Jack sharply back down to earth. Fun though it might be to play at this game of escape and rescue, there was still that threat to be dealt with. He couldn't really go off in his ship when it was repaired, and leave the Kamon behind here - no matter how much the Governor and his cronies had asked for it. "What's your plan, Josiah? Where do we go from here?"
"I had thought that back to the Dragon would be the best thing. If you want to go after your beast, surely we should head out to sea?"
"Perhaps." He didn't bother reiterating that the Kamon wasn't his 'beast'. "Do you think that your crew would agree to that?"
"I'm the captain, Jack. They'll do what I tell them." Josiah looked momentarily troubled. "Although I admit that I wouldn't be happy about giving them such an order. We wouldn't have much of a chance in a small boat, though, would we."
"Not unless it came fully equipped with hypertronic grenades, no." Jack followed his two rescuers past a small heap of guards, still sprawled unconscious on the floor. "I thought you said you didn't have any trouble?"
"We didn't." Anne, whose manner had so far been in distinct contrast to her seductress mode of the previous night, finally allowed him a small smile. He grinned back.
"Oh. Right. So much for the great fortress, huh."
"No doubt they feel sure that chains and thick stone walls are enough to keep their prisoners in. Or perhaps drunken fishermen require rather more manpower to subdue them than might be expected." Josiah took the lead as they reached the main gates. Two guards lay there as well, one still dead to the world, the second just beginning to revive. "All the same, you're right and it does seem oddly deserted. I would have expected far greater resistance."
"There's time yet for the soldiers to try to stop us." Anne looked left and right outside the gates. "So are we going back to the inn? Or do you two have other plans of your own?"
"We go back to the inn." Josiah was actually blushing, with Jack found rather endearing. "I'll give my men the choice of whether to come with us after the beast, or to stay behind. They've earned the right to be asked."
"I'm not sure that's a great idea, Josiah." Jack didn't like the idea of leading a suicide expedition. "We'd be no safer in the Dragon than in some tiny fishing boat. You saw how easily the Kamon got on board before."
"The Dragon is a fine ship, Jack. The best."
"Yeah, I know. The fastest ship in the Caribbean, right? But the Kamon is far stronger than you think, and the Dragon is only made of wood. That creature could smash straight through the hull if you got it mad enough to try. Then where would we be? Floating around in the sea, like that fisherman I sent to talk to you back at the inn. Blood and sharks everywhere, and the Kamon doing whatever the hell it wants."
"You wish to let it go free?" asked Josiah. Jack shook his head slowly. A part of him wanted just that - to get Josiah to load up his crew and sail the Dragon to some far off coast where he would be safe - and Anne and Celeste as well for good measure. Maybe even the parrot and the blonde girl it liked nibbling. All the same, he wasn't about to suggest it. If nothing else, just as he'd said, he had a reputation to honour.
"Not let it go, no. Just go after it in the right way; in my ship. It's made of metal, so it's a lot stronger than the Dragon - though the Kamon could probably still break in if it tried. I don't have much weaponry aboard, but I should be able to come up with some kind of plan. I just need a little longer, for the ship to fix itself."
"Your ship is not big enough for a full scale mission, Jack."
"No, but it's big enough for me. This doesn't necessarily call for an army - or a navy, whatever. I know this thing."
"Then we will follow your lead." Josiah nodded his acceptance. "And we begin where?"
"By getting away before somebody arrests us." Jack had no desire to be thrown back into an extremely uninteresting cell, especially if there was a chance of having his neck stretched come sundown. "At least for now. Come on."
"At last. Some sense." Anne once again took the lead, setting a fast pace towards the other end of town. "Keep your eyes open, both of you, and shoot anybody who gets in the way."
"Somebody doesn't like soldiers." Jack caught her up, amused by her completely different demeanour now that he was no longer a customer at the inn. "I'm sorry I got arrested."
"She's just making noise, Jack. There was no need for her to come with me." Josiah also caught up, flanking Anne on the other side. "She likes this sort of thing well enough."
"It's not good business to let customers get themselves killed on fools' errands." She quickened her pace, clearly determined to be as aloof as possible. Josiah smirked.
"She cares really."
"I'll take your word for it." Jack eyed the sleek, practical woman, with her knives and her musket, and was glad that he wasn't a soldier in her path. She looked as though nothing could faze her; as though she was ready for anything, and willing to do anything that might be necessary. If it hadn't been for the fact that he had seen Josiah first - or, more accurately, the fact that Anne was frankly terrifying, he might have made a play for her. He still might - not to do so was somewhat akin to not breathing.
"Hey!" Catching her up again, he turned his smile up to one of its more successful settings. "I don't suppose there's anything back at the inn that'll take care of these?" He rattled the manacles at her, like a cut price ghost. She nodded.
"Probably. And if Josiah can't pick the locks, Kate is the best thief in these islands. You met her last night, although you probably don't remember it."
"Kate. Blonde girl, green dress?" She looked impressed, and he silently gave thanks for Celeste and her chatty nature. "Maybe I wasn't as drunk as I looked."
"If you did some of those things sober, you're far more strange a man than I'd have imagined." She turned her attention back to the road. "Perhaps, when we get back to the inn, we should break out the rum again and see just how drunk you really were last night?"
"Or possibly we can save my purse and stay sober." Josiah clearly knew Anne of old, and was well aware of her true intent. "She only loves us for our money, Jack."
"Alright by me." If Jack had not still been handcuffed, he would have linked his arm through Anne's. As it was he merely flashed her another of his more popular smiles. "I've always had a weakness for the mercenary touch."
She shot him a heavily disparaging glare. "I would remind you that we are still supposed to be on the alert. Not playing foolish games."
"Oh, on the alert for what? This great garrison town of yours is all a lot of fuss over nothing. There are no soldiers around. Everywhere is deserted. We could be singing and dancing our way down the street and nobody would notice." With a flourish Jack leapt up onto the wall that ran along beside the road - part of the wall that contained the Governor's opulent gardens, as far as he could tell. From the higher perspective he could see more of the town, including the harbour. There were soldiers there, though not in any great number; one or two drunken fishermen still wandering about, telling their tale to whoever seemed likely to listen. Other than that, he could see nobody. Everything was silent, barring the wind and the sea, for the population of the town still seemed to be cowering indoors. He wasn't sorry. Large, chunky handcuffs weren't always the easiest of things to explain to curious onlookers. As it was, so far as he could tell his exaggeration had perhaps not been so far off the mark; they probably could dance down the street without anybody noticing. Except... he could hear something now, or thought that he could. A shouting? No, more than a shout. A scream? He realised then that Josiah and Anne could hear the noise too, and he spun around to face it. Somebody, out of sight up the slope that led to the Governor's mansion, was screaming in mortal terror. A gunshot rang out, muffled by distance, and seconds later a very familiar growl.
"The beast!" Josiah ran for the wall, even as Jack was jumping down into the gardens, running for the source of the scream. He could hear Josiah and Anne following him, and hoped that between them they could make their gunfire count. It seemed unlikely. Past decorative bushes and sculpted flower beds he ran; past white marble statues and an ornamental pond. There were scraps of flesh on the grass, now; a severed leg clad in the remnants of a soldier's uniform; a hand; something that might have been part of an arm. There was blood splashed on the white stone path around the pond, and the smell of gore drowned the scent of the flowers. Jack skidded to a halt. This carnage was fresh; very fresh. The Kamon couldn't be far away. He turned in a circle, gesturing to Josiah and Anne to come forward more slowly. He couldn't hear the thing breathing; he couldn't hear any of the vegetation rustling, or hear its heavy feet on the ground. It might be anywhere.
"Jack!" Suddenly Josiah was running for him, and taking his cue Jack spun around, firing the pistol that he still held in one hand. It discharged noisily, but the green, scaled shape looming up in his vision showed no reaction to the shot that glanced harmlessly off its shoulder. Jack dragged out his laser pistol instead, but the little gun did nothing more than fizz, and spit out a small, sorry burst of light that did nothing at all.
"Duck!" Anne's voice. Jack obeyed, hearing her musket roar loudly over his head. The shot did as little good as his own, and the monster carried on coming. Sprawled now on the ground, Jack hauled the sword from his belt and swung it around, attacking the creature's legs as it came for him. It roared, and he looked straight up into its hot yellow eyes. He had no doubt that it knew who he was; it had chased him through Time, and must be aware that he was the man it had set out originally to kill. A Kamon had intelligence enough to understand that, even if it was limited to growls and roars, and an almost constant state of rage. For a second he could almost have sworn that it smiled.
"Fire!" The barked command could have come from anywhere; it sounded to Jack as though it came from above him; maybe somewhere off to his left. There was an almighty crash - some half dozen muskets all firing at once - and the Kamon roared its displeasure. The musket balls could not have had too great an effect on its armoured hide, but apparently it viewed this latest interruption as one too many. With a last growl, that Jack felt was directed rather meaningfully at him, it swung about and was gone. Jack allowed himself one very small sigh of relief.
"Er.. Jack?" Josiah didn't sound nearly so relieved. Jack put that down to the fact that he hadn't been the one looking down the business end of a man-eating, genetically-engineered alien beast. Breaking into a rueful smile, he raised himself up onto his elbows - and found himself looking straight up the length of a musket. He didn't think that it could have been loaded again so soon, but he didn't feel much like arguing with it anyway. It was still a weapon, and the gleam in the eyes of the soldier wielding it was nastily akin to that in the eyes of the Kamon. Jack smiled nervously. Ah. Well that explained the tone of Josiah's voice, anyway.
There were six of them, all in uniform, two reloading whilst the others did their best to look menacing with empty guns. Jack thought momentarily about using his sword, and Anne had already drawn one of her knives - but the odds were just too great. There were other ways of dealing with this. Straightening his shoulders, he let his smile grow to a confident grin. Soldiers he could handle; he spoke Soldier fluently. Gently pushing the musket aside, he sat up straight, and made a show of putting the sword down on the ground beside him.
"Nice work, men. Well done. We were glad of the help."
"It killed Colonel Abrams." The nearest man, still pointing his gun squarely at Jack, looked a little grey. "Tore his head off. Killed three others, too."
"I'm sorry." Slowly and carefully Jack got to his feet. "I'm Captain Harkness. Now listen men, we--"
"Listen?" Only then did he notice a seventh man; a man in impeccable black with a wig of pure white, and two gleaming pistols gripped in his hands. Neither had been fired by the look of them - and both were pointed at Jack. "Listen? You're an escaped prisoner, condemned to hang." Lord Charles looked disdainfully over at Josiah. "And in the company of a pirate, I see. A notorious pirate, wanted for crimes against my person."
"Yeah. Okay, I can see how that might look bad..." Jack didn't bother finishing the explanation - the Governor was not a man likely to listen. "You got your men to scare off the Kamon, though. Why not just let it kill us?"
"Because it was clear to all of us, Captain Harkness, that the beast knew you. It killed all other men on sight, and yet you it didn't kill, when it could easily have done so. You spoke of a monster. You were arrested in the first place for speaking of a monster. You know what it is."
"Yeah." Jack did his best not to look at Josiah and Anne. The less they were involved in this, the better. "Maybe."
"Not 'maybe'. Definitely. It knew you. You knew it. You know how to stop it." Lord Charles took a step to his left, and pointed one of his bright pistols straight at Anne's head. "And you're going to stop it, or I'll do whatever is necessary to make you change your mind."
"There's no need for threats." This time Jack did look at Anne, standing with one knife still in her hand, her eyes smouldering with humiliation. For a moment he thought she might make a move with the knife, but she had the sense not to try. By now all of the muskets were reloaded, and it would be foolish to do anything ill-judged. "I want that thing gone as much as you do."
"Then you'll tell us what it is, and you'll tell us how to kill it. Our weapons have no effect." Lord Charles looked like thunder, and his pistol was pressing now into the side of Anne's head. She showed no reaction, but if it did not hurt already, the pressure soon would. She didn't move aside though. Perhaps she didn't dare - more likely she was just determined not to give her tormentor the satisfaction. Jack nodded slowly.
"It's... it's from another country. It followed me here. They're hard to kill, yeah, but not impossible. Given the time, I can get something together."
"There is no time." The Governor nodded to his men, who immediately seized the three prisoners. "You'll do this, and you'll do it quickly, or you'll not do another thing in this world."
"Kill me and you'll never stop the Kamon." Jack held the Governor's eyes with fierce intensity, but the Governor didn't seem to care. He lowered his guns and stuck them into his belt, clearly feeling that he no longer needed them now that his prisoners were being restrained.
"Kill you, and perhaps this 'Kamon' will go away. I don't know why it's here, Captain. I know only that it could have killed you, and didn't. For all I know, you command it. For all I know, it belongs to you. So you will kill it, and you will do it today, or I'll have the three of you dancing on a gibbet. Is that understood?"
"Yeah." Again Jack didn't want to look at Josiah and Anne. The latter, he knew, was fuming. The former was silent and still, and too hard to second guess. "Let me go. I'll kill it."
"Not alone, Jack." Josiah sounded horrified. "You can't fight that creature alone."
"With luck I won't have to fight it." He had the germ of an idea, but it called for his ship to be ready, at least in part. What he would do if the repairs were not yet sufficiently advanced, he didn't know. "I just have to get back to my ship. I have guns there that might make a difference."
"No gun can hurt that thing." One of the soldiers spoke with the voice of experience. Josiah suddenly glowed with an obvious pride.
"His guns are not like ours. I've seen one of them. It fires a light, not an ordinary shot. A blue light that can cut through metal." He frowned suddenly. "But you fired at the beast with that gun before, Jack, on the Dragon. It didn't hurt it then. Unless it is prepared to stand still, like the door back at the gaol, I don't see that even your guns can be any use."
"Bigger guns, different circumstances." Jack was still formulating his plan. "It could work."
"It must work. If not the three of you will die." Lord Charles gestured to his soldiers. "Take them to the water's edge. The three of them will work together, as an added incentive to our friend here. That way if he fails, his two companions will die alongside him. If not by the monster's hands, then by ours."
"That's not necessary." Jack was angry, but the Governor was unmoved. Josiah merely smiled.
"I'm happy to go into battle alongside you, Jack. I think it would be an honour to fight this beast."
"And I'd rather fight it than be used as a hostage." Anne's tone of voice showed that she was not exaggerating. Death in battle against a monster was presumably preferable to being executed by the Governor and his soldiers. Jack nodded slowly.
"Alright. I'll need these cuffs taken off. And I'll need gunpowder. A lot of gunpowder."
"Gunpowder? What do you think we use in our own weapons?" One of the soldiers, a tall, dark man with the wild look of fear in his eyes, spoke as though he were close to breaking point. "Powder and shot have no effect on that creature."
"The way that you use them, no." Jack held out his hands to the Governor, as well as he could with his arms still pinioned by the guards. "Take off the handcuffs, Lord Charles. I'll fight the Kamon, but I'll need both hands to do it."
"We'll deal with those shortly." The Governor seemed to be thinking, obviously wondering whether or not he could trust this man to deal with the monster; and whether or not he could afford not to. Finally he nodded. "Take them down to the water's edge. The creature seemed to be heading that way, and it appears to have a fondness for the sea."
"Thankyou." Relieved that it seemed he might now be allowed to do things his way, Jack made no objection as he and the others were manhandled out of the palatial gardens and down towards the harbour. There were still several fishermen there, drunk now to the point of stupor, and sprawled aimlessly against the bric-a-brac that lay at the water's edge. A pair of soldiers were there too, armed with muskets and looking white-faced. Clearly the Kamon had been this way recently. Jack looked out to sea.
"I see no sign of it," commented Josiah. Jack shook his head.
"You won't. It can't breathe under the water, but it can stay under for hours at a time. It's probably eaten all it wants for now, so it could stay down there for the rest of the day. We're lucky. If it had still been hungry it would have killed all of us back there."
"Except you," suggested Anne. He smiled, somewhat weakly.
"I think it would happily have killed me too. Stick around a while longer, and you might see me prove that theory. It just hesitated before, that's all."
"Lucky that it did. Your sword was nothing to it." Josiah flashed him a gentle smile. "And now we have to kill it. What can possibly kill a creature that barely notices gunfire?"
"A different kind of gunfire." Jack was thinking aloud now, not caring who heard him, or what they thought of the things that he said. "If I can get enough gunpowder together, I can blow it to kingdom come. Can't use a fuse to ignite it - that'd be suicide, and it might catch on before the fuse was ended anyway. My laser cannons should do the trick nicely, if the power cells have enough charge in them, but I'm going to need to have the ship in flight to fire them. At the moment the nose is still under the water, and all I'm going to shoot that way is fishes." He sighed, still staring out to sea. "We have to lure it back to its ship, Josiah. Best way all round. Take the ship out, take the Kamon out, and do it all offshore where there'll be less danger to anybody else. Pack its ship with gunpowder, and then blast it as soon as it goes inside." Unconsciously his hands mimicked an explosion. "Question is, how to do the luring without getting eaten? Or the exploding without getting blown up? If my ship's not working yet, it'll be tinderboxes and kindling all the way. I'll be scattered all over the bay as food for the seagulls."
"I see no disadvantages in that." Lord Charles turned Jack around, and directed one of his men to shoot out the chain connecting the handcuffs. It took two loud, worryingly wobbly shots to break the short links, but Jack was grateful enough to be able to move his arms properly again. It was hardly as satisfying as being rid of the heavy cuffs themselves, but it was better than nothing. He nodded his thanks.
"And now you get to work." The Governor was not a man to allow any wasting of time. "There's gunpowder enough, if you think it'll work. The soldiers have a store of armaments beside the gaol. The powder kegs can be brought here."
"Good. Stack them up in a big pile right about here. I can transport it out to sea easily enough then." Jack's left hand toyed with the computer strapped around his right wrist. Always supposing the teleport had been fixed, anyway - if it hadn't he was in for a lot of rowing. Annoyingly, there was only one way to find out. Wandering a short distance away, trying to look as though he was staring out to sea again for signs of the Kamon, he tapped the little keypad and raised his wrist as surreptitiously as he could towards his mouth.
"Hey, computer. How's everything going?"
"Auto-repair is progressing at predicted rate. All systems now operational at reduced efficiency." The ever calm voice of the ship's computer answered him precisely, and with a deceptive sense of affection. Deceptive since she had no way of caring for his welfare; affectionate because she had been designed to relax the ship's pilot, and that was the tone of voice thought to be best. Jack had become fond of the machine, even if theirs was a strictly one way relationship, and he always thought of the computer as a woman. She was obliging enough when he wanted a conversation, and he liked to think that she responded to the tone of his voice and the warmth of his smile. He offered the wrist computer a quick grin now, just in case the computer back on his ship had somehow developed the ability to see him through his own portable scanners.
"You're a lifesaver, you know that?"
"Protection of organic life within ship's hull is of paramount importance. Barring fracture of--"
"Yeah, I know. We're going to have to work on your metaphors." Jack was uncomfortably aware that Josiah had followed him, and was certainly now within earshot, and his senses told him that the Governor was not much further away. So far this expedition was a case study in how not to handle the natives. "How about the teleport?"
"Teleport is currently operational at forty percent efficiency. Probably of transporting Captain Jack Harkness safely on board is now ninety seven point six percent."
"Great. How soon until we can take off?"
"Limited flight now possible. Space flight is not recommended for six hours, and time flight for three further hours. Battle stations not recommended for--"
"I'm not going into battle. At least, not exactly. Listen, computer. What sort of speed and manoeuvrability do we have? And can I fire the guns?"
"Forward laser cannon irrevocably destroyed upon impact. Starboard laser cannon irrevocably destroyed upon impact. Port laser cannon irrevocably destroyed by hostile fire before impact. Rear laser cannon operational at thirty percent efficiency. Ship capable of basic manoeuvres within planetary atmosphere, speed available to thirty seven percent of normal maximum. Escape velocity will not be possible for four hours." She fell silent, clearly awaiting further questions. He sighed.
"Okay. Thanks, computer. I'll see you in a bit."
"Captain Jack Harkness will be welcomed aboard in one bit." Predictably enough the computer showed no sign of irony, but he couldn't help wondering at times if it wasn't taking the mick. He smiled at the little communicator, then turned around. Josiah was still watching him, and so was Lord Charles; the former with wonder, the latter with cold suspicion.
"Witchcraft." The Governor made his assessment in a voice of ice. "I should hang you even if you do kill that monster."
"It's not witchcraft." There seemed little point in trying to explain. "I don't do magic."
"I should have expected as much. A monster like that one could only be the work of magic." Lord Charles had one hand resting on one of the pistols in his belt. "If I was to shoot you, Captain, would the shot have as little effect as it did upon your pet?"
"I'd rather not find out." Jack looked instead to Josiah, drawing him away from the others. "Can you supervise bringing the gunpowder down here? I need to know that there's somebody in charge I can trust."
"You're going somewhere?" Josiah was trying not to sound disappointed. Jack nodded.
"I have to get back to my ship. She's coming along nicely, but I'll have to make some of the repairs manually or we'll never get anywhere. The teleport will need boosting if I'm going to transport enough gunpowder, and I'll have to switch the rear cannon to the front. I could do with another six or seven hours to get the ship up to scratch, but I don't think we have that long."
"I don't think that the Governor is that patient a man." Josiah could see Lord Charles well from his present position. It was not a pleasant view. "He's looks ready to shoot you now."
"Yeah. Listen, he already wants to burn me at the stake or something for being a witch. Could you distract him for me? Only if he sees me leave for my ship, he'll kill me the next time he lays eyes on me. I'd really rather not have him be that angry."
"Your ship is with the Dragon. You'll need a boat to get out there, and there's no magic involved with that."
"I'm not going by boat." Jack grinned. "I'd explain, but... I can't. Not really. Trust me?"
"With my life, Jack. I don't know why, and I don't know how it happened, but I trust you more than I've ever trusted anyone." Josiah smiled, looking almost shy. "Aboard my ship I'm a leader of men. Respected. Strong, even if I do say so myself. But with you, it all changes. Everything changes."
"Good." Jack took the other man's hand. "Be careful. I'll be back as soon as I can, but in the meantime, keep your eyes open and your brain switched on. I don't know what the Kamon is doing, or where it'll surface next. And I don't want you being its next meal."
"Jack..." Colouring slightly, Josiah extricated his hand. "In front of Anne is one thing. She sees all manner of things at the inn. But these others. I--"
"Screw the others." Jack frowned. "Well, no. Not all of them. It'd take too long, and frankly they're not all worth it. And I doubt Lord Charles would approve anyway." Josiah merely looked blankly at him, and he had to smile. "Sorry. Look, just... be careful. And distract Charlie. Right?"
"I'll distract him." The pirate captain nodded his head, and his body language changed in an instant. Gone was the awkward, faintly shy man who didn't quite know how to deal with Jack Harkness; and in his place was the ramrod straight, confident sailor who could deal with every eventuality. "Be careful, Jack."
"You too. And I'm sorry there's so much that you can't understand. It's just... it's complicated."
"Everything is complicated now, Jack. Since the moment you fell out of the sky." Josiah smiled at him. "Do what you have to do, and good luck." With that he turned briskly away. "Lord Charles? Could I have a word, your Excellency? I... appreciate that I'm not the man you most want to speak to, but it's about this gunpowder..."
"What about the gunpowder?" Lord Charles was willing to listen, grudgingly, but his eyes remained focused upon Jack. Josiah, who drank to the Governor's eternal damnation every day of his life, swallowed his distaste and managed to be courtesy itself.
"We'll need a very great deal of it, sir. A very great deal. There might not be enough stored in the town, and I was thinking of places where we could perhaps get some more?" Very gently, he steered his enemy around, pointing him back the way they had come. The soldiers had already gone, marching smartly off to begin fetching the powder. "I have some aboard my ship, but I'm afraid it's not exactly easy to get to quickly. There must be more aboard your own ships, surely?"
"Is this some ruse to disarm my fleet?" The Governor turned on him sharply. "How involved in all of this are you, Day? There are many tales of your prowess at sea, but perhaps your skill is easily explained? Are you a magician too?"
"Sadly not, your Excellency." Josiah wanted to look back at Jack, but was determined not to do anything that might make Lord Charles do the same. "If I possessed the same abilities as my friend - magical or not - I would stand some chance of understanding him. This is no ruse, Lord Charles. I just need as much gunpowder as possible. This is one part of the plan that I can understand, and I intend to do the best that I can. I've lost friends to that beast."
"Dead pirates. What tragedy." Lord Charles nodded slowly, no longer resisting as he was guided away along the harbour, and back up towards the street that led towards the gaol. Only then did Josiah dare to look back, very briefly. He saw Anne, behind him; a great empty expanse of sea; a few boats and a few drunken fishermen - but Jack had gone. There had been a flash, perhaps? Something bright and blue in the very corner of his eye? He couldn't say for certain, but it made his heart thud heavily in his chest. Either Jack had turned into a fish, or he had vanished back up into the sky. If there was a more rational explanation, Josiah couldn't think of it. He could only wonder at a man he could never understand.