Jack slowed his step when he entered the main area of the hub, letting Gwen take the ambassador on ahead into the infirmary. Something was different, wrong, dreading what he might see, he looked over to one of the monitors that showed the Doctor's cell, only to find it was blank. He quickly checked all the monitors within his sight. There was a faint glow by Ianto's workstation. But that was it and he couldn't see the screen.
"Ianto, status report," Jack called, putting a calmness in his voice that he didn't feel. If not for fear of spooking the ambassador, who was cooperating at the moment, he would have dashed back into the cell block to see for himself what had happened to his friend.
"Sir, Dr. Jones is here," came the composed reply. "I've briefed her on the ambassador's condition and she has the infirmary ready."
After a puzzled moment, Jack nodded his understanding. Ianto had told Martha about the ambassador's condition, not the Doctor's. Good call on his part, this way she would concentrate on the ambassador. Telling her about the Doctor would be an unnecessary distraction at this time and remembering his own reaction to his friend's condition, it probably saved Ianto from having to execute another flying tackle.
"You'll let me know if anything changes?" asked Jack.
"Of course," Ianto's response was curt, with an insulted edge to his tone, clearly upset that the question had been considered necessary. Knowing he would have to make amends later, Jack hurried to the infirmary.
Somehow the old man had managed to make it down the stairs with only minor assistance from Gwen, by the time Jack arrived the ambassador was being helped up onto the bed by Martha. Or rather Martha was trying to help him. The old man was balking.
"No one said anything about restraints," protested the ambassador, staring at the offending straps lying on the bed. His voice clearer and stronger than Jack would have thought possible a few minutes earlier. Back straighter too. He set down the energy extractor on a counter, wanting it safely out of the way if force needed to be used. Gwen gave him a warning stare which he ignored.
"They're just a precaution," Martha explained quietly. "Sometimes in these procedures there is some involuntary muscle movement. The restraints prevent you from injuring yourself."
The old man reached out and touched the cuff closest to him, refusing to look Martha in the eye, putting her at a disadvantage as she stood facing him but he keeping his side to her and the bed, preventing her from getting round in front of him.
"They seem awfully… sturdy." He frowned as he fingered the cuff, it's still stiff outer leather and softer padded leather on the inside of the curve. "Why is it so big?"
Martha reached over and gently took the cuff from him. "It's made the way it is because if it breaks you could be hurt even more than you would without it," she explained in a casual but authoritative tone. "Your hand would fly at an incredible speed. If it hit something, like a bed rail, you might even suffer a fracture."
She turned it over in her hand. "These are actually quite comfortable. The padding is good, the inside leather is smooth and it is wide enough to distribute any pressure and avoid bruising." She laid it on the bed and leaned over the bed turning her head so she could look him in the face. "Think of it like a seat belt, something to protect you. And like a seat belt these are just here as a precaution. I promise I'll take them off as soon as we're finished."
The old man sucked in his lower lip and let it out absentmindedly from between his teeth as he considered her words. Jack watched impatiently, subtly shifting his weight, preparing to jump the ambassador and throw him on the bed if need be. Gwen was glaring at him but he didn't care. He ran Torchwood and it was time he started acting like it again.
He was taking a step forward, about to implement his plan, when the ambassador nodded his head and said, "Alright, if it helps get Celeste's killer."
Martha looked puzzled at the statement, but Gwen spoke up before she could ask what he meant. "Yes Nigel, it will help. I promise, we won't let it get away."
With a small nod as his eyes turned bright with unshed tears the ambassador turned his back to the bed and with a hand on each side pushed himself onto it. The bed creaked softly and he started to lie down when Martha stopped him.
"Let me just check you over first," she said, as she pulled out her stethoscope. "Sorry these always seem to be cold no matter what they're made from." She slide the chest piece of the stethoscope under the man's shirt, tilting her head to one side as she listened intently. "Now breath deep please."
The old man complied and Martha move the stethoscope around, check all the pulmonary lobes Jack guessed as his patience wore thinner. What was Martha thinking? It's not like they weren't going to go through with the procedure if the man failed whatever physical she was giving him. And they had far more advanced equipment for checking heart and lungs than a stethoscope.
When she picked up a tympanic thermometer he looked over at the energy extractor sitting on the counter. He could just pick it up turn it on and be done with all this. Gwen walked over to the device, picked it up and set it down firmly but gently on the opposite side of the room, well out of his reach. Jack just shook his head unable to believe he'd transmitted his intentions that clearly, like some rookie fresh out of the academy.
Martha appeared unaware of the little scene he and Gwen had played out. Instead she was fastening an old style sphygmomanometer around her patient's upper arm. The whooshing, hissing sound that was created with each squeeze of the bulb grated on his nerves. This whole procedure she was doing made no sense at all. Martha was familiar with the equipment they had. She could have known more about the man's health in 30 seconds than she would get in a hour with the technology she was using. He stared at the scene frustrated and puzzled.
"Your blood pressure is a bit elevated," Martha was saying. "Nothing to be worried about. I would get it checked by your own physician just to be sure."
The ambassador nodded. "I've had problems with it," he admitted. "I'm supposed to take some pills, but I keep forgetting."
"Well try to remember, it's important you take them," she said as she removed the blood pressure cuff and put her stethoscope away. "Otherwise you are in fine shape, now if you could just lie back, we can get on with this over with in just a few minutes."
Acting as if what he was about to be done to him was the most natural thing in the world, the ambassador laid back on the bed, and only then did Jack understand the reason for Martha's exam. She had provided a familiar routine for the old man, putting him at ease and establishing some trust. Her patient was relaxed and cooperative now. There was a slight worried frown that passed over his face when Martha attached the first of the restraints.
"Don't worry," she assured him with a smile, "I'll take these off as soon as the procedure is over. Remember what I said, just think of it like a seat belt."
The ambassador gave a brief nod and closed his eyes as Martha gently but efficiently finished fastening the restraints.
As soon as she was done and stepped away from the bed, Jack strode over to the machine and turned it on, ignoring Gwen's protest and Martha's puzzled look. His patience was past the breaking point. He didn't care if the old man was comfortable or not, he only cared to get the information he needed to save the Doctor, information that was now as clear as day on his screen.
The screen showed a predominance of light blue threads, and a smaller condensed set of green threads where he suspected the base of the brain to be. As he watched a green tendril started to grow downward along the spine. The creature in the ambassador was alive and sentient. The new and selective growth was an obvious attempt to anchor itself further. An attempt that was having obvious physical effects on the host as the ambassador's eyes had rolled back in his head and his whole body was shaking.
Martha stepped forward to help the old man, and was quickly restrained by Gwen. "No wait, this is normal. We've seen it before." Gwen explained calmly.
"You've done this before? Then why was this an emergency? What did you need me for?"
"Later, we'll explain it all later," Gwen replied in an attempt to answer all the questions with one response. Jack let the conversation fade from his awareness, trusting that Gwen could handle Martha. Jack's top priority right now had to be getting the creature out of the ambassador. Not for the old man's sake, but for the Doctor's. This was a full test of the device. The only one he would get before using it on the Doctor again.
He attacked the newest tendril sliding his index finger on the screen to peel it back from the blue ignoring the warning that the containment chamber was disabled. It fought him, sending out energy with an appearance similar to the hair like fibers on a plant root as it tried to regain a grip on the host energy. The device was prepared for that and with a tap of his little finger the hair like energy disappeared as if singed by a match. Once he had it free he quickly and swiftly slid it down to the bottom of the screen. Seeing if once part of the creature was inside the machine the rest would be quickly pulled in and destroyed.
Unfortunately that was not the case. The tendril snapped and shattered. Only the part of the tendril was destroyed. Six other pieces were now free, sending out fibrous energy trying to gain a foothold. Quickly he play grabbed them and slid them to the bottom of the screen. Each was destroyed.
Jack stopped and considered. This technique was not going to work. The thing reproduced by fission. If he wasn't careful he would be like the sorcerer's apprentice, chopping up his main adversary, only to find he had created unaccountably many in its place.
Time to try something new. He repositioned the device bracing it against his body so he could put his left thumb on the screen. He then peeled back the tendril that was starting to grow in place of the one that shattered. He flashed the fibers quickly and then slid his finger along the screen to place the tendril under his thumb. He pulled his hand away. Success, the tendril stayed put under his thumb. He tried it with another tendril. It too stayed, struggling but trapped. He had his technique.
It was going to be the slow and steady way. He bent to his work. Unwinding tendrils and trapping them under his thumb. Working carefully so as not to cause another break but quickly enough so the rate at which the tendrils were trapped was faster than the creature could grow them. He was vaguely aware of sounds about him, but he spared no concentration to determine what they were. It was just him, the screen and a knot of energy determined to never be untangled. Deliberately he unwound tendril after tendril, holding on to each one as he freed it, preventing it from reattaching, staying ahead of the creature's growth. He shook his head trying to shake off the sweat that stung his eyes, not daring to spare a hand for the effort.
Then there was a soft cloth being pressed against his forehead, he was about to bark an order to back off, to quit distracting him, when he realized it was to take away the sweat for him, leaving him free to concentrate on the task at hand.
Finally there was just one last tendril to be captured. It struggled with him, desperately trying to send out new shoots, each being destroyed before it could gain purchase. It wound itself around the brightest part of the blue energy, appearing to choke it off. That tactic didn't work, he had plenty of practice now and he peeled the green energy, now a sickly pale color, away from the blue and trapped it under his thumb. Quickly before another tendril could form he slid his thumb to the bottom of the screen.
The displayed showed the word DESTROYED in bright mauve letters. He was pretty sure for the rest of the people in the room they would appear as red and in English, not fifty first century common. There were numbers and units scrolling by on the display. He had no idea what they meant or even if they were important. The device seemed incapable of communicating the information to him in a way he could understand. He stared at the display panel, committing as much of the data as possible to memory. Maybe the Doctor would know what it was about, but for now, he knew how to work the device and that was all that was important.
His job done, he let back in the distractions he had blocked out. His shirt was sticking to his chest and back from the sweat. He was thirsty and tired. How long had it been? He checked his vortex manipulator. 110 minutes and that creature was a small one, barely a twentieth of the size of the one in the Doctor.
Almost in a daze he put the device down on the counter. The desire to run with the device into the Doctor's cell was overwhelming. But he needed to rest, and perhaps something more. This was going to be no simple operation and there was no one he could pass the controls to if he faltered, if indeed the machine would even let a second operator take over. He shook his head trying to clear it.
Gwen was at his side. "Are you alright, Jack?"
"I'm fine," came the obvious lie of a response from Jack as he pressed his fingers deeply into his scalp rubbing in small circles, trying to fruitlessly clear the fog from his brain. "How's the ambassador?" he asked changing the subject. He dropped his hand and turned to see Martha removing the last of the restraints as she had promised. Her patient appeared awake and talking, but tired. His voice was hoarse and weak, and Jack couldn't make out the words. The captain approached the bed to hear what the man had to say.
"…was real wasn't it? That thing really was inside me? I could feel it. It's gone now, isn't it? Tell me it's gone." The old man was whispering desperately. His hand reached out to Martha and clung there.
"Yes it is gone," assured Martha as she gently removed the man's hand from her arm. "Now lie back down. You need to rest, that was quite an ordeal you went through." She eased the man back into the bed and put up the sides.
Jack looked at her quizzically as she took out an oxygen kit. "What's going on?" he asked.
"Nothing, just a precaution," she replied but the swiftness with which she set up the equipment proved her words to be false. Soon her patient had a mask on his face. His eyes blinked at her slowly and Jack could tell the man was fading fast. "Nigel," she called with soft insistence. "I'm going to be putting in an IV, like the oxygen, it's just a precaution. You're a little dehydrated, nothing to worry about."
It was doubtful that her words registered with the old man. His eyes were closed and his breathing was slow and shallow. Jack thought he could detect a slight wheeze, like a rusted gate opening, as Martha quickly and efficiently started the IV. She injected several drugs into the line before she left her patient's side. A quick jerk of her head indicated to Jack she wanted him to follow her out of the room.
As soon as he was up the stairs and closed the door. Martha laid into him. "I hope what you did was necessary," she asked impatiently.
"It was," he assured her.
"It better have been because it weakened him considerably. You need to move him to a hospital, now. His heart rate went up over 240 during that procedure. He's not going to make it through the night if he stays here."
Jack rubbed his forehead as he thought about the consequences of the ambassador leaving his control. He'd like to retcon the man at least. They did have an injectable form. Otherwise he didn't need him. But MI-5 might wonder where Frank was if the ambassador suddenly turned up at a hospital. On the other hand, the one bed infirmary might soon have another occupant. Having it clear and ready for the Doctor might be a good idea.
"Is he stable for now?" replied Jack trying to buy a little time to think this through further.
Martha bit her lip and looked back at the room. "For the moment, but he could crash at any time. He really must be moved now. I'm not a cardiac specialist, and that's what he needs."
Jack closed his eyes and shook his head. It seemed there was just one thing after another. "Alright," he acquiesced. "I'll have Ianto check into making the arrangements."
Martha nodded her agreement. "Are we done here then?" she asked.
"Yes," replied Jack, relieved he could now go and check on the Doctor's condition. Martha's hand was on the infirmary door when he changed his mind.
"Can your patient wait for a while?" he asked. "I need to talk to you in my office about another situation."
"It has to be in your office?"
"Yes, it does. I have something there you should see."
Martha hesitated before answering, clearly torn between her patient and the urgency in Jack's voice. "Let me check him, make sure he's okay and give Gwen some instructions for watching him."
Jack forced a smile on his face. "While you do that, I'll see that Ianto gets started on arranging to have him transferred."
Martha smiled back with a quick nod, then her face was serious as she turned to take care of her charge. Jack headed over to Ianto to give him instructions on the ambassador, at least one, the retcon, Martha might not agree with, but security was security. As soon as he finished there, he was going to put away the breakables in his office. Hopefully Martha's reaction to the Doctor's condition would be better than his, but he wasn't taking any chances.