Fffc Bingo Card - Inundated

[m_findlow]

Title: Inundated 
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Ianto, Jack, Torchwood team 
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 1,000 words
Content notes: none 
Author notes: Written for Bingo Card Prompt 52 - Lake at fffc
Summary: The hub is suffering from problematic plumbing. 

Ianto knew it was going to be a bad day when he woke to the sound of water slapping the surface of the rift pool. Dressed only in his dressing gown, he padded up from Jack's bunker and out through his office to investigate the problem. The forecast last night had been for torrential rain so he'd prepared by shutting off the water tower and sandbagging the tourist office. 

Seeing it now pouring in a steady stream through the gaps in the flagstones some sixty feet above him was troubling. A check of the CCTV cameras out on the Plass confirmed the worst. ‘Oh boy,’ he muttered, seeing a huge lake in its place. 

‘Hey what's that noise?’ asked Jack, shuffling sleepily towards him as he sat behind Jack's desk studying the computer screen. He flipped it around to show Jack. ‘We have something of a leak, or a lake, however you want to look at it.’ 

The tourist office had somehow been spared, but it took him two hours to move the sandbags back away from the door to let in a grumpy Owen, a harried Gwen and a calm, pastry bearing Tosh. ‘Thought you must have been stuck in a queue waiting for the next boat,’ he tried to joke. ‘Take a mop and a bucket on your way down and try not to look Jack directly in the eye.’

‘It's not that bad is it?’ Gwen asked. 

‘That depends on whether you consider strapping umbrellas to computer screens a normal reaction.’ 

Jack's main concern was not their regular computers but rather the rift machine. Whilst it had sat surrounded by a small pool of water for a hundred and forty years, this water from above had the potential to get into the inner workings and cause serious malfunctions. In short, he was not a happy bunny, even after three cups of Ianto's finest coffee. 

Ianto entered with a fourth as Jack was on the phone. 

Jack took the peace offering before turning his attention back to the phone cradled between his shoulder and his ear. ‘No, I don't want you to apologise. I want you to tell me which incompetent, pea-brained, overpaid, lazy good for nothing public servant is responsible for this. And another thing-’

Jack frowned at the sharp click, audible even from where Ianto was standing across the opposite side of the desk. ‘What just happened? Did they seriously hang up on me?’ 

‘I think the pea-brained public servants probably aren't going to come and fix our little problem now,’ he replied, looking unsurprised. ‘Did you manage to get any explanation from them, or were you only calling to rant, in which case I have a lovely call centre in India that has been threatening on a fortnightly basis to cut off my home internet for the past six months whom I'd be delighted to introduce you to.’ 

Jack heaved out a frustrated breath. ‘They say that it's not their problem because we,’ he paused to make quotation marks around the word to emphasise it, ‘have a perfectly good set of pipes through which water is extracted from the surface of that Plass on a daily basis.’ 

‘If they mean that little trickle that flows down the water tower, I think we're going to need a bigger pipe. I might add that Tosh has run some calculations of the flow of our current leak.’ He flipped over a tiny notepad in his hand to consult it. If we do nothing and let it continue to pour in through the cracks in the flagstones, we should have drained the Plass in about six weeks. I should probably also point out that given the flow and the volume of water in relation to that underneath us in the bay currently held back by outlet taps, there would be insufficient pressure to force the water out through those outlet pipes, meaning the first ten feet of the hub will be completely submerged. Given our alternatives, I think I'd rather seal up the invisible lift and let the Plass become Cardiff's newest lake.’

Jack’s expression turned dark as he glared at his computer screen. ‘Except for the fact that I've just got an email from council stating that we now have twenty four hours to deal with the problem.’ 

‘Ah, I see that diplomacy worked in our favour again,’ Ianto replied, unable to resist needling Jack on the matter. Jack's scowl turned on him and he took one tentative step backwards. ‘Let me go make a few phone calls.’ 

Jack's scowl didn't dissipate. ‘You do that.’ 

As they stood on the edge of the highest part of the Plass six hours later, Jack couldn't help but smile. ‘I don't know how you do it, Ianto,’ he said, watching as the water level was slowly dropping. 

‘I know a few people up in the Rhondda and they know a few people who still work in the collieries. Those are industrial mining pumps,’ he said, gesturing to the four large engines placed strategically around the Plass, connected up to huge hoses which snaked all the way from the end of the Plass down the stairs to the quay and out over the water. ‘Designed to pump water out of mine shafts at a rate of four hundred cubic megalitres an hour.’ He checked his watch. ‘They should be done before morning.’

‘Well, thank your friends in the Rhondda for me.’ 

‘I already did. Torchwood just shipped them ten cases of very expensive lager.’ 

Jack chuckled. ‘At least some people are easy to please.’ His phone pinged and he pulled it out studying the message.’I don't believe this,’ Jack said, looking stunned at the phone in his hand. 

‘What?’ 

The environmental protection agency just slapped us with a fifty thousand pound fine for illegal dumping of waste water into the bay. ‘Seriously, when is someone gonna cut us a break?’ 

‘You think they'd waive it for ten cases of expensive lager?’