Disclaimer: I own nothing except the TCP. The TCP is a big thing to own, though, so I'm not that put out at not owning anything else.
This chapter may contain traces of Malfoy.
Chapter Eight
"S-so, you are s-saying that Mis-ss S-starflower's demis-se came about as-s a res-sult of her own- ah, what was-s it you s-said- tragic and regrettable los-ss of cognitive ability and reas-soning?"
"Yes, sir,"
"I s-see. If you would be s-so kind as-s to tell me again what occurred, Captain Peter?"
Peter did not gulp. It had taken years, but he was now able to meet the Officer's blank stare with a professional, sincere one of his own.
Barbara wasn't quite as prepared. Peter could see her chin quivering slightly at the edge of his line of vision; rapid throat-movement indicated that she was fighting a gag reflex.
"Yes, sir. As I told you earlier, sir, everything went smoothly until Agent Barbara removed Miss Wattingford from the holding cell for Testing. Deprived of a subject upon whom to unload her tragic back-story and whom to plead for help in escaping custody, the Sue implemented a deus ex machina plothole to remove herself from the cell (use of said plothole being made possible by the poor maintenance of said holding cell as a result of resent cuts in funding and in no way instigated nor the fault of any Agent of the True Continuum Police). Upon achieving this, the Sue systematically dismantled a hallway until she came upon Agent George, who almost immediately lost consciousness-"
"Yes-s." The Officer leant forward in its pool. "That was-s it. I do not unders-stand why one of my Agents-s would react thus-s to the appearanc-ce of Mis-ss S-starflower. It is-s mos-st out of character. Perhaps-s you would explain this-s to me?"
"Certainly, sir." Peter had seen this coming a mile off- or, rather, three hundred metres down the corridor, where he had formulated his answer. It wouldn't do at all to have the Officer know the true series of events that had led to the Sue's being spontaneously digested. "You are aware of the case of Hiari Nobleshe, sir? George hasn't quite been the same since, and I do believe, sir, that in the circumstances, fainting was the preferable course of action for Agent George to take. Especially when the alternative, sir, was being used by the Sue as a sidekick and means of escape."
"That does-s s-sound plaus-sible, Captain. Thank you for clearing that up. Pleas-se, continue."
"Sir. With Agent George unconscious and therefore unable to be affected by the Sue's influence, the Sue lost control- this is entirely in keeping with our knowledge of this particular species, sir. Once taken out of the canonstream, they require someone to acknowledge and appreciate them or they break down. This particular Sue turned her telekinetic abilities upon herself and, ah, let me see- yes, she 'dissolved in a burst of light as strange and muddled as this terrifying new world she had been thrust into. Her last thoughts were of her beloved Draco, now destined to walk the earth alone, before her body and soul became as nothing.' That's from the Reader, sir." A handy device, the Reader- handier still when you knew someone with the ability to rewrite what it recorded.
"Ah, yes-s. It all s-seems-s to be in order. A pity, though."
"Sir?"
"Your Divis-sion s-seems-s to have made a rather dis-sturbing habit of failing to s-succ-ces-ssfully bring in errant characters-s, Captain Peter. It does-s not look good, I mus-st s-say."
"Sorry, sir. We do our best, sir," said Captain Peter with the utmost sincerity.
"Perhaps-s having a full complement of Agents-s in your Divis-sion will help fix this-s little problem?"
"I do hope so, sir."
"Very good. You may go."
"Yes, sir."
The two Agents made a smart about-turn and exited the Officer's office. Peter stood back as Barbara retched into one of the waste baskets outside the door, placed there by some thoughtful gopher.
"You did a good job holding yourself together back there, Barbara. I'd forgotten you hadn't been called to report for a few weeks."
Barbara straightened and wiped her mouth on her sleeve. "It's- oh, Tolkien! How much longer can she last, do you think? The old Official's killing her!"
"Somehow I don't think that's the case, Barbara," Peter said. "The merging process was- complicated, to say the least. No one can be sure exactly who which part of the Officer is, or at least, was. It could be that Dame d'Ame has simply decided that the old Lawyer's form is more- suitable for her current position."
"She- but- sir, does that mean she's killed him?"
"In a way. Possibly." Peter sighed. "Look, it's only a theory, Barbs, there's very little to substantiate it and most of the evidence is just rumours. Let's just get back to Barracks and sort out training for Ja- for Miss Wattingford."
"All right, Peter."
Barbara averted her gaze as they passed George's greenhouses. The crawling vines up the glass wall closest to them were far too reminiscent of the creature the new Official had become for her to bear to look at.
- - - - - - - - - -
"More sugar, Mr. Malfoy?" Pamela bustled happily, splitting and buttering more muffins as she waited for her guest to reply. "It must be bitter, you've hardly touched it at all."
"Madam, you know very well that I have never, nor ever intend to take refreshment during these meetings. Do not presume to offer me any of those middle-class nibbles, either," Lucius added as Barbara made to pass him a plate of enormous banana-chocolate-chip muffins.
"Oh, all right then. Any for you then, dear?" Barbara turned her attentions to the younger Malfoy, who was holding his cup of tea in front of him like a shield. "Look starved to the bone, you do."
"I-"
"My son is fine, madam. If you have finished with this ridiculous hostess charade, perhaps we could continue?" Mr. Malfoy snapped his fingers. His cup of tea did not vanish, and was not replaced in his hand by a sheet of parchment. "Damn."
"Forgot again, didn't you? Your magic won't work here, Mr. Malfoy, not with all the protections up. Saves us poor Agents from being AK'd by a Lord Voldemort somewhat dismayed at discovering he's bred a flock of Sues, don't it. Had him here just last week, in fact, tried to blast me clear into next week and I'll tell you, he looked a right fool when no-"
"Do be silent, girl!" Lucius snatched the parchment from Draco's hands, having impatiently waited through Pamela's diatribe for the boy to find the thing in the pocket of his robe. "You will see here, girl, that my son has been made the victim of no less than eight of your Mary Sues over the last fortnight."
"They're not exactly my Mary Sues, Mr. Malfoy. More-"
"This is unacceptable!" The explanation mark is a much-maligned piece of punctuation, consistently overused by twelve-year-olds as they try to add emphasis to their typed expression of excitement or glee. Here, though, it represented a small but rapidly growing sense of the manic in Lucius Malfoy's speech that is seldom seen. "You people have a duty to see to it that these creatures do not come into contact with us! And yet you insist upon leaving your actions until the last minute, until after they have tainted my family with their presence!"
"Mr. Malfoy-"
""Not only that, but am I also to understand that these molesting dregs of creation are allowed to live after they have done such damage? I assure you, muggle, that if this continues-"
"Actually, Jack ate the last one."
"-I will be forced to- excuse me? Did I just hear you say that one of your colleagues ingested the most recent Mary Sue to disrupt my son?"
"Yep. Biscuit? They're Anzacs, just out of the oven, very nice."
"Well, that is something, at least. Does this, ah, happen often?"
"Not particularly- no, first one in ages I think. The Council doesn't like it, you see, and what with funding such a problem we do try to keep on their good side" Pamela's emphasis on the word 'funding' was very slight. But not so slight as to remain unnoticed.
"That is inconvenient, I must say. Do stop slurping at your tea in that repulsive way, Draco."
"Yes, father," The diminutive blond muttered. He was, Pamela noticed with a little maternal worry, looking a little peaky. The draft stages of a new book could do that to people, she knew, but it really wasn't fair for someone so young. At least he'd been able to make his way through two and a half scones before his father gave him a darkly significant Look.
"Well, it is bloody annoying, I'll grant you that." Pamela said.
"I dare say that is something of an understatement. Now, this, ah, this Jack you mentioned. . ."
The meeting lasted another ten minutes, during which time there was a great deal of signing of papers and quiet sipping of tea. Heading back to Barracks afterwards, Pamela grinned happily to herself. There was one problem sorted out- and she'd managed to give poor Draco a decent feed into the bargain.
- - - - -
The next chapter may contain traces of missioning. And, well, a basic cut-to-months-later-after-training, 'cos I'm lazier than all you folks not reviewing. Which includes me hides