Torchwood London, 2042
Trefor Williams often wondered about the older woman's intentions. Keara Montfort came to Torchwood from the Kenya psychic refuge with Miriam. From what he'd been told, she'd had a rough life. The scars on her hands and forearms told him that much.
She approached after he left Anwen in the stables and fell into step beside him. They walked along the edge of the duck pond. Whatever she wanted to tell him, she was still working out in her head. Or at least that's what he gathered from her body language.
"The war is lost. Nothing can be done now." A few more minutes passed before she spoke again. "The only way to win is to prevent it."
"Change time?"
"Yes." Keara stopped and sighed. "We have to research what went wrong and affect key events."
"How do you know?"
Keara paused. "How much do you know about time, time lines and parallel universes?"
"Some."
"We're heading toward a point of no return. I know this because I interacted with another version of myself. Her time line is gone and she wandered into ours. Without planning or research, she's been trying to prevent the destruction of the human race."
"How much time do we have?"
Keara shook her head. "I don't know. But we need to learn from her mistakes." A beat. "We need to find someone who can move through time safely. Knowledge, experience and genetically able to handle it."
"You don't mean Jack." If she had, she'd have approached him.
"No. He's not the only former time agent."
Trefor had no idea what she had in mind. From what his father said, there were seven time agents left thirty years ago. The only other one he'd heard visited Earth was a psychopath.
"Captain John Hart meets the criteria. Knowledge, experience, adapted. He's easily bribed." A beat. "No one will care if he doesn't survive."
"He's crazy. A mentally unstable, multiple addict. He enjoys killing people."
"Controlling him is basic," Keara emphasized. "It requires knowing what motivates him. Money, hedonism and an underlying need to be needed."
"Insanity aside, how would we recruit him?"
"Use his wrist-strap to target him in time and drag him to a specialized chamber."
"Abduct him. Abduct a homicidal time expert."
"That's the hard part. Bribing him is simple. We have boxes of future currency. They're more valuable than diamonds. One of them and he could live like a king for weeks. Offer him two and pretend you don't know they're actual value."
"How much of this is guess work?"
"None. The device can and will be built. It will work. Success comes down to researching it."
"What's the problem?"
"Miriam won't help us if she knows the truth. She would figure it out at some point."
Moss-Probert Office; Cardiff, Wales
Thursday, September 15, 2019
Maurice Bordeau had reservations about the situation. The carefully planned details unravaled. The unexpected explosions were one more complication requiring extensive brainstorming. Most of the remaining Moss-Probert organization didn't know the connection among the religious offices nevertheless to them. One of many secrets he needed to keep. Which translated to being unable to delegate planning or work.
"When is the next ship arriving?"
The first time Liberty Dowsett mentioned aliens, he'd thought she was crazy. Even with The Doctor and Torchwood situations making the news, he hadn't thought it possible. She proved it by demonstrating incredible technology. Her explanation for being able to make contact was fabricated. It made him question everything she'd told him.
"Friday." Dowsett looked too calm, in his estimate.
"Are they prepared for what happened to the last one?" Instead of the previous scheduled delivery, they received a message that the ship had been destroyed inside the Rift. it didn't include an explanation. Which added to his growing concern.
"Yes."
Maurice nodded. "Do we know who attacked the religious group?"
"The Prophet," she said, finding the title as ridiculous as he did, "Has an in-house problem. The man behind the attacks is reportedly dead. He committed suicide."
"Colin Doyle? The police are investigating that as a probable homicide. Torchwood is involved."
Dowsett made an unhappy noise. "I was assured they didn't kill him."
"There is also concern about the Liverpool location. Torchwood had the fire department fill in the basement with random debris. No one knows why."
"No idea." Except she did know. They met twenty years earlier. He didn't understand her, but he could tell when she was lying. Which meant something was very wrong.