m_findlow

Title: Orders from above
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters/Pairings: Jack
Word Count: 500 words
Rating: PG
Notes: Written for Challenge 114 - Dispatch at anythingdrabble
Summary: Jack has been waiting for orders, but these ones leave a bitter taste in his mouth.

'Telegram for you, Captain,' the young corporal announced, pulling back the ragged piece of drab olive fabric that served to cut off this part of their trench network as his own personal quarters. It wasn't much but it was his. Officers privileges, so they said. Not that he couldn't hear everything that went on outside. All it did was give him a few moments each day when he didn't have to hold up the stoic pretense that things were okay.

Things would be okay eventually, not that most of these men would live to see it, though. It was hard to believe that the war would be over and that the Allies would eventually claim victory. That was still at least two years away and most of his men wouldn't survive the campaign. He wasn't sure what was worse, knowing he was part of the command of a dead end campaign, or knowing that without it, the war night not end the way it did. Did it count as survivor's guilt when the future hadn't yet happened? He'd already lost track of how many times he'd "survived".

Jack took the folded note from his corporal. 'What is it?' No letters from home for Jack. He didn't have anyone to write to him, just the memories of a few pretty girls at dances.

'Assume it's orders from dispatch, sir,' the corporal replied.

That'd be nice, Jack thought. Idle hands were the devil's work and being holed up here without any directions to either pull back or press forward were making his men restless. No one wanted to be sat in one place too long, waiting for the German troops to pick them off one by one, or to send their Messerschmidt aircraft over the trenches, trying to bomb the hell out of them.

Jack grabbed his cap from the small card table and pulled it on before taking himself and the note outside. He needed to stretch his legs and it was an excuse to check on the state of the men. Assuming it was orders, he'd need to be prepared to deliver the orders from command quickly.

'Morning, sir,' came a handful of greetings as he weaved his way between the cramped tunnels, eyes fixed solely on the note in his hand. The typeface was the same as any military dispatch, but the logo at the bottom was what caught his attention. These were orders to be sure, but orders only for him. Not from thr army but from Torchwood. He'd begun to think they'd forgotten he was here, but clearly not.

"Intelligence reports that the Germans have aliens in custody and are using them to code vital messages between Berlin and the front. Find the front line threat and terminate its communications."

Jack knew what that meant. It turned out that even Torchwood were in the killing game in this war. The only good alien was a dead one. He sighed.

'News from command, sir?'

'Special assignment,' he replied.