BLACKNESS.
Then shafts of light become visible, above a ridge of rock. Flatbed appears, trailing two heavy two cables. Behind it, the mass of Torchwood emerges from the darkness, its forward lighting array blazing.
Flatbed is towing it like a tug, aided by Torchwood's own mighty stern thrusters.
Jack, his feet propped up, uses joystick controls to 'fly' Torchwood, manoeuvring against currents and around seafloor obstacles. He is guided by the side-scan sonar display, with Owen assisting in the sonar shack.
Through the front viewport, Flatbed can be seen out ahead.
McBride appears on the bridge monitor, holding a sheet of weather-fax. "Well, it's it Hurricane Frederick, and it's going to be making our lives real interesting in a few hours."
Jack responds via video. "Fred, huh? I don't know. Hurricanes should be named after women. Or our Exes?"
McBride looks up as the bridge door opens. Ianto enters in a blast of wind, wet as a wharf rat and twice as pissed off. Maybe Jack is right.
Jack is surprised to see Ianto's face appear on the monitor screen. "I can't believe you let them do this!"
Jack is unpreturbed, almost cheerful "Hi, Yan. I thought you were in Houston."
"I was, but I managed to bum a ride on the last flight out here. Only here isn't where I left it, is it, Jack?"
"Bum? Who did ya bum now?" Jack grins, and then soberly adds "Wasn't up to me."
"We were that close to proving a submersible drilling platform could work. We had over seven thousand feet of hole down for Chrissake. I can't believe you let them grab my rig!" Ianto snarls.
"Your rig?"
"My rig. I designed the damn thing."
"Yup, as Benthic Petroleum paid for it. So as long as they're holding the pink slip, I go where they tell me." Jack sighs at the image on the screen that is glowering at him in a way he knows too well.
"You wimp." Ianto hisses "I had a lot riding on this. They bought you... more like least rented you cheap—"
"I'm switching off now" Jack sing-songs.
"Jax, you wiener! You never could stand up to fight. You—"
J
Jack hits the switch and the screen goes dead. "Bye."
Owen looks over him, trying very hard not to crack up. "Jax?"
"God, I hate that prick." Jack groans as he rubs his head.
"Yeah, well you never should have married him then." Owen chortles.
Jack nods fatalistically.
.
.
.
Ten foot waves crash through the launch-well, sending up geysers of spray. Next to the launch-well, crewman have attached a lifting cable to CAB THREE, eighteen feet of ugly yellow submersible. It slams violently in its steel cradle as the drill-ship rolls. Saxon and Schoenick hand the gear bags in to Davison and Monk though the hatch under the rear of the submersible.
Ianto approaches, wearing a borrowed roustabout's coverall.
He looks down at the larger of the two equipment cases brought by the SEALs, lying on the deck. Stencilled on it are the words: F.B.S./DEEP SUIT/MARK IV.
Saxon and Schoenick push past him to pick it up.
"Let's go, gentlemen! We either launch now or we don't launch." Ianto barks.
Saxon looks up in surprise as Ianto nimbly climbs the side of Cab Three and grabs the lifting shackle, circling his raised hand to signal the crane man.
"Take her up, Byron!"
Cab Three, with Ianto riding its back, is pulled up out its cradle and starts to swing violently as Explorer pitches. The submersible is then swung out to the centre of the launch well. It sways and gyrates above the furious water below. Ianto drops into the upper hatch.
Kirkhill leans suddenly over the console to look out the window.
"What the hell is he doing out there? Son of a bitch..." Kirkhill gaps, then roars into microphone "Ianto... get out of Cab Three. Bates is taking her down.
Ianto pulls his headset as he dogs down the inside locking levers of the hatch.
"Bates is sick. Besides I've got more hours in this thing than he does." Ianto says to Saxon "A little change of plan."
The little sub is swinging like a pendulum on the cable, and the SEALs, jammed in with their equipment in the tiny space, are getting slammed into the walls. Ianto is calmly flipping switches as she talks.
"Man, we better fish or cut bait." Saxon barks.
"Just hold your water, okay?" Ianto replies, then says to Kirkhill "So Kirkhill, we gonna do this or we gonna talk about it?"
The plug is pulled on DeMarco's patience. "I don't care who drives the damn thing. Just get my team in the water."
"Alright, alright. Christ Almighty" Kirkhill grumbles. He gestured dismissively to McBride.
MCBRIDE
"Cab Three, you are clear to launch." McBride says smoothly.
Ianto reaches up a grabs a red lever.
"Roger." Ianto barks, then says to Saxon "There's only one way it's going to happen..."
Ianto pulls the lever hard. CLUNK-CLANG! The shackle-release drops the sub. It freefalls ten feet to the water with an enormous splash and keeps right on going after Ianto floods the trim tanks. Saxon's team have been slammed hard.
IANTO
"Touchdown. The crowd goes wild. Explorer..."Ianto crows "Cab Three. We are styling."
"Roger, Cab Three."
Ianto cuts on the floodlights and manoeuvres the descending submersible so that the umbilical cable is a few feet ahead on his front port. Moving up through his lights, it will guide himr down to the rig. Cab Three free-falls into increasing darkness. Soon it is a candle below us in the indigo.
Toshiko is driving the tug one-handed, pouring coffee from a thermos and rocking out to the great truck-driving song "Willing" on the beat-box she's got propped up on the sonar rig. Fighting white-line fever in the best tradition.
Jack and Owen come in for a rousing chorus. "... I've been driving every kinda rig that's ever been maaaaade..."
Lit up like a proud Peterbilt, the rig crossed the trackless wastes. We hear them singing.
In total blackness, the submersible descends along the rigorous line of the umbilical cable. Two hundred feet below it, the lights of Torchwood resolve out of the darkness. Now we can see the rig crawling over the ocean bottom like some monster lawnmower.
"Torchwood, Torchwood... this is Cab Three on final approach.
OWEN (V.O.)
"Gotcha, Cab Three." Owen replies "Who is that? That You, Ianto?"
Jack stop singing and snaps around at the mention of his name.
"None other."
Jack's expression is nothing less than stricken. "Oh no... you gotta be kidding me."
Ianto executes a 180 degree turn and cruises over the control module, back through the A-frame toward the docking hatch. The flange of Cab Three's lockout hatch settles over the pressure collar on the rig's back. There is a CLUNK as it mates up.
Ianto drops down from the hatch into the small cylindrical pressure chamber. The SEALs drop down behind him, passing their gear through hand-over-hand. The chamber is spartan, with steel benches, a folding card table, breathing masks, and medical supplies. John greets them through the tiny porthole at one end.
"Howdy, y'all. Hey, Ianto! I'll be damned! You shouldn't be down here sweet thing, ya'll might break a nail." John leers with a suggestive wink.
"Couldn't stay away. You running mixture for us?" Ianto replies "Good. Couldn't ask for better."
"Okay, here we go. Start equalizing, y'all"
HISSSS of inrushing compressed gas. The pressure in the chamber rises. The breathing mixture is composed of helium, oxygen and nitrogen. John monitors it carefully from a station outside the chamber, watching the gauges with a practiced eye. Ianto and the SEALs all grab their noses and start making funny faces... popping their ears with the familiar diver's 'equalization' technique. They continue as Ianto informs them "Get comfortable. The bad news is we got six hours in this can, blowing down. The worse news is it's gonna take us three weeks to decompress back to the surface later."
"We've been fully briefed, Dr. Harkness."
"Don't call me that, okay... I hate that" Ianto snaps "It's Jones… or just Ianto. Alright, from now on we watch each other closely for
signs of HPNS..."
Monk replies as if by rote "High-Pressure Nervous Syndrome. Muscle tremors, usually in the hands first. Nausea, increased excitability, disorientation."
"Very good." Ianto nods "About one person in twenty just can't handle it. They go buggo. They're no way to predict who's susceptible, so stay alert."
Saxon puffs his chest as he interrupts their conversation to add "Look, we've all made chamber runs to this depth. We're checked out."
Oh... chamber runs." Ianto widens his eyes sarcastically "Uh huh, that's good."
Saxon turn away "Well, hey... you guys know any songs?"
They ignore Ianto. Start going over some diagrams of the Montana's interior.
It's going to be a long six hours.
.
.
.
GAS CONTROL STATION - HOURS LATER
John checks his watch, then reaches over and adjusts a value on the tri-mix manifold, watching the gauges. Satisfied, he leans over to the pressure window in the door, checking out the SEALs. Owen has come down from the control deck for an advanced look at the interlopers. Jammer is in a chair, reading a Louis L'Amour paperback.
JOHN
John mutters "Those guys ain't so tough. I fought plenty of guys tougher'n them."
OWEN
"Now we get to hear about how he used to be a contender." Owen tells his white rat perched on his shoulder like a weird pirate's parrot.
John holds up one calloused fist up in front of Owen's face. "You see this? They used to call this the Hammer."
"Owen wasn't born then." Jammer chortles "He's just a little fella."
.
.
.
It looks like the end of a long bus trip. Everyone silent... leafing through beat-to-hell magazines or just staring. Ianto has his feet propped up on the smaller of the SEALs' two equipment cases. He casually toes open one of the latches, then the other. Glances at Saxon. He's reading. He begins to lift the lid with his toe. Gets a GLIMPSE INSIDE, of packing foam, and what looks like a SMALL BLACK METAL BOX. Then... WHAM! Saxon's foot comes down on the lid, slamming it shut. Startled, he looks up into his cool gaze.
"Curiosity killed the cat."
Ianto grins, showing his teeth as he says playfully "Tiger Tails are faster."
.
.
.
John is closing values... spinning the wheel on the chamber hatch. It cracks open with a virgin's sigh and swings aside.
"Y'all'er done to a turn and ready to serve." John informs them "Everybody okay?"
The SEALs nod peremptorily and shoulder their gear. Ianto exists first, followed by Monk, Davison, and Schoenick. Saxon bends to re-latch the small equipment case. He is alone for one moment in the chamber. He raises his hand and stares at it. The fingertips are trembling the slightest bit. He clenches them into a fist and walks out.
As Ianto emerges into the main corridor of the rig, he bumps into a large, dark mass.
"Hey, was there a wall here before? I don't remember a wall here. Oh, Jammer! Hi."
The 'wall' grins down to him. "Howdy, there, little fella."
Saxon emerges behind them and, ignoring Ianto, faces Jammer. "Show us the dive prep area. We need to check out your gear."
Jammer scowls, turns and leads the SEALs in the sub-bay. John and Ianto exchange a look.
"Those guys are about a much fun as a tax audit." Ianto whispers.
.
..
.
Owen is bathed in the light of the sonar display. He is making kissing sounds at Janet, who has her inquisitive nose right up to Owen's lips.
"Owen, you're going to give that rat a disease."
Owen and Jack to see Ianto leaning in the doorway. he and Jack
size each other up.
Jack opts for a jovial approach, his eyes wary."Well, well. Dr. Harkness."
"Not for long."
Ianto crossed past him, his eyes scanning the banks of equipment, almost unconsciously checking, checking... getting the pulse of hisr big iron baby.
"You never did like being called that, did you?"
"Not even when it meant something." Ianto replies looking through the front port "Is that Toshiko up in Flatbed?"
"Who else?"
Ianto leans past Jack to the gooseneck mike on the console. "Hi, Toshiko, it's Ianto."
Toshiko with sickening sweetness "Oh, hi, Ianto."
Ianto gives the sonar shack the once-over. He tweaks some knobs.
Jack finally snaps and starts to rant "I can't believe you were dumb enough to come down. Now you're stuck here for the storm...dumb, hot-rod... dumb."
"Look, I didn't come down here to fight." Ianto sighs.
Ianto crosses past Jack and exits into the corridor. Jack bolts out of the chair to follow him and Owen scrambles in to take over.
Jack catches up with Ianto in the corridor, and through the hatch following keeps pace with him as he makes his inspection.
"Then why'd you come down?"
Ianto stops abruptly to look at a leaky pipe. Jack almost slams into him. He moves on, climbing down the ladder to the lower level. "You need me. Nobody knows the systems on this rig better than I do. What is something was to go wrong after the Explorer clears off? What would have you done?"
Jack is insulted now "Wow, you're right! Us poor dumb ol' boys might've had to think for ourselves. Coulda been a disaster."
On the lower level landing, Ianto opens a hatch into one of the machine rooms.
ROAR OF PUMPS AND COMPRESSORS.
Ianto enters and moves expertly through the dark labyrinth of pipes and roaring machinery. His eyes rove constantly over fittings, gauges, circuit panels.
Jack is yelling "You wanna know what I think?"
"Not particularly. Jeez, look where this is set! Morons." he scowls at a pressure gauge and turn a valve minutely.
"I think you were worried about me."
"That must be it." Ianto's on the move again, and Jack scrambles through the pipes to keep up.
"No, I think you were. Come on, admit it."
"I was worried about the rig. I've got over four years invested in this project." Ianto throws over his shoulder as he moves.
"Oh, yeah, right... and you only had three years with me." Jack knows it's a low blow but it does hit it's mark.
Ianto finally stalls, then he looks up at him "You've got to have priorities."
.
.
.
JACK'S ROOM
Darkness. The door opens and Jack snaps on the light.
"My bunk's the only one I can guarantee won't be occupied. You can grab a couple hours before we get there."
Ianto slips past him into his tiny state-room, the only private bunk on the rig. Rank had its privileges. His hand on the door is just level with Ianto's eyes. He notices his wedding ring, a massive band of pure titanium (something your fiancee might have picked out if he had a degree from M.I.T.).
"What are you still wearing that for?"
Jack shrugs "I don't know. Divorce ain't final. Forgot to take it off."
Jack stays in the doorway. Ianto takes a heap of Jack's cloths off the narrow bunk. Start unconsciously straightening the room.
"I haven't worn mine in months."
"Yeah, what's-his-name wouldn't like it. The Skirt."
"Do you always have to call her that? The Skirt?" Ianto snorts "It makes you sound like such a hick. Her name is Lisa."
Ianto takes off his borrowed tennis shoes and socks.
Jack eyes him, sounding too causal. "So what about "Lisa" then... Ms. Hartlett and Brothers... Ms. BMW. You still seeing her?"
"No, I haven't seen her in a few weeks."
"What happened?"
"Jack, why are you doing this? It's not part of your life anymore!"
"I'll tell you what happened..." Jack leans in close, their faces so close they could kiss "you woke up one day and realized the girl never made you laugh."
"You're right, Jack. It was just that simple. Aren't you clever? You should get your own show... Ask Dr. Jack, advice to the lovelorn from three hundred fathoms"
Ianto closes the watertight door, forcing him out. Locks it. he turns and throws his shoe hard against the far wall. "AAAARRRGGH!"
He flops down on the bed, sitting... staring at the wall. His armour is gone. He looks small and vulnerable. A long beat. He reaches over to the tiny sink. Amid the clutter is a bottle of Jack's aftershave. He unscrews it and takes a sniff. Catches himself. Tosses it back.
"Shit."
.
.
.
Jack barges into the tiny head and puts some soap on his ring finger. He pulls the ring off roughly and throws it into the toilet. He reaches forward to flush. Can't do it. Now really pissed off at himself, he reaches into the toilet bowl, wrist deep in the chemical-blue water, and salvages the ring.
He puts it on and washes his hands. The right hand stays faintly blue no matter how hard he scrubs.
"Shit."