Almost Perfect

CAPTAIN JACK IS FEELING BUOYANT

You can navigate Cardiff Bay by a succession of expensive follies with interesting names.

Beyond the Welsh Assembly Anti-Terrorist Barriers (erected at vast expense before someone pointed out that you could drive round them) but not quite as far as Cardiff International Heliport, lies the newly opened Cardiff International Ferryport.

Really it was just a patch of Docks not suitable for executive homes or freight due to poisonous mould. So someone had come up with the idea of running a highly subsidised ferry route to Ireland.

It took longer than going via Swansea, but was cheaper, and the ferry had been painted a cheerful shade of green. It had launched a couple of months earlier, with a lot of carbon-neutral fanfare.

When it had opened for business, Gwen had toyed with going. #8216;Ooh, it’s just like the Eurostar,’ Rhys had cooed mockingly, which had put an end to it.

And now here she was, standing at the terminal with Jack, watching the remains of the ferry dragged into the Docks by a tugboat.

The ferry had been a fine bit of 1970s engineering, kept afloat with Norwegian pride and a fresh lick of paint. Now it looked like a kicked tin can, strips of metal fluttering in the breeze like flags.

‘Bloody hell,’ breathed Gwen.

‘I’ve been in worse,’ said Jack, with a hint of professional pride. ‘I’ve seen a World War Two mine rip a battleship apart like wet cardboard. Believe it or not, that ferry is still pretty much seaworthy. Ah, Norway, I salute you. Strong ships and even stronger sailors.’

‘Right,’ thought Gwen. ‘I’ll be spending the day interviewing stunned survivors in Portakabins while Jack’s chatting up the crew. Marvellous.’

The ferry chugged past them, filthy water gushing from tears in the sides.

‘No scorch marks,’ said Gwen.

Jack shrugged. ‘Not that unusual. Those are secondary explosions from the inside out.’ He squinted. ‘Yup. Good news. Definitely not claw marks.’

‘You just don’t want the paperwork,’ teased Gwen.

They watched the ferry bump unsteadily into port.

‘I don’t want any of this,’ he told her. ‘Aliens are the new Health and Safety Nightmare. There are people in high places who are desperate to blame a Rift-related cause for this. It’s more likely the boat just hit something – a World War Two mine’s a World War Two mine you didn’t see coming, whether or not it’s drifted through the Rift. I don’t like being scapegoated every time something goes wrong.’

‘Aliens ate my homework?’ Gwen laughed.

Jack laughed. ‘What a brave new world. Now go and find some eyewitnesses to talk to.’

‘What about Iantoya?’ asked Gwen. ‘Sure we don’t need him?’

‘Oh, he’s best off at the Hub. Until he feels… you know… himself.’

‘Jack Harkness, you are terrible. The poor lamb’s got nothing to look forward to apart from filing, making the coffee and sexual harassment.’

‘I know,’ said Jack. ‘I just want to surround him with familiar things.’