Fic: Of Pirates And Widgets
Jul. 11th, 2024 06:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
badly_knittedTitle: Of Pirates And Widgets
Author:
badly_knittedCharacters: Ianto, Jack.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1204
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Out towards the galactic rim, beyond easy reach of the major law enforcement agencies, pirates can be a problem, especially for small, independent cargo ships.
Written For: Weekend Challenge Prompt Grab Bag at
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
1_million_words, using ‘Widget, Pirate, Wrist.Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Set in my Ghost of a Chance ‘Verse.
Running afoul of pirates was an occupational hazard for anyone plying their trade in this sector of space, far from the galactic centre and beyond the jurisdiction of the major law enforcement agencies. Still, new colonies needed to have supplies and equipment delivered, and just as importantly, needed a way to transport whatever the colony produced to where it could be sold. The work might not be as lucrative as in the more civilised sectors, but it was arguably more important, and there was plenty of it, so there were always people willing to accept the dangers involved.
While the big haulage companies, with their mostly automated ships could afford to lose the occasional cargo, for independent hauliers, tangling with the rogues and renegades that stalked the spacelanes as often as not meant risking not only their cargoes, but their livelihoods and, in many cases, their lives.
Not all pirates were murderers. Some, considering themselves kind and generous, would strip the ships of everything that had any value but leave the crews alive, adrift without power, or even dump them on a nearby planet to await rescue, if and when help arrived. Others would take the crews with them, incorporating the willing members into their band and selling the rest into slavery. The vast majority, however, would simply kill everyone on board, space the bodies, then take not just the cargo but the whole ship. If they could. The independents didn’t make it easy for them, arming their ships with whatever weaponry they could afford and fighting back, but the pirates tended to be better armed and more numerous, not to mention more ruthless. They didn’t have anything to lose except their lives, and their freedom if they were caught.
Jack and Ianto’s ship, the Happy Wanderer, might look like an ordinary cargo transporter, but as with everything in the universe, appearances were often deceptive. She was armed to the teeth with every weapons system Jack had been able to fit her with. She had better shields than most law enforcement vessels, multiple lasers, projectile weaponry, an EM pulser, magnetic grapples, and her entire hull could be electrified, frying to death anyone who wasn’t inside, protected by her insulation. The Wanderer was definitely not a ship to be messed with, no matter how tempting a target she might appear.
Over the last seven months, pirates had attacked her nine times, and on each occasion, it had been the pirate ships that were left drifting helplessly, without power, waiting for the understaffed local authorities to arrive and pick up any survivors. Jack and Ianto had also gone to the aid of four other vessels under attack, rescuing the crews, although on two occasions they’d arrived too late to prevent the ships themselves from being damaged beyond repair. Ships could be replaced though; they and their cargoes were generally insured. Lives were more important.
This time around, during a prolonged battle with two heavily armed pirate ships, the Wanderer had once again been victorious, but both she and another cargo ship, which had been the pirates’ original target, had suffered damage. They’d limped their way to the nearest habitable but as yet uninhabited planet and set down on a convenient island in the midst of a vast ocean to make repairs to both vessels.
After helping the crew of the other ship to fix their damaged propulsion system and patch several holes in her hull, they’d turned their attention to the Wanderer, where, thanks to her reinforced hull, the damage was less severe. Two of her laser systems had shorted out through heavy, continuous use during the battle, and one of the projectile weapon mounts had been left hanging by not much more than the proverbial thread after suffering a direct hit from the pirates’ energy weapons. There was also minor damage to the port stabilisers, which had made landing the ship a bit hairy, but Jack was an expert pilot, with over a century’s experience under his belt. He’d made it seem easy.
Ianto, despite several decades of transporting cargo from place to place, still considered himself something of a novice when it came to spaceship repairs. It wasn’t like fixing a car. Inside the ship was one thing, he could handle minor issues with the plumbing and electrical systems, and even the life support, but working on her outer hull and weapons was another matter, and completely outside his experience. So, every time something got damaged, he received another lesson in spaceship maintenance and repair from Jack.
“See here?” Jack was pointing at the weapons mount. “This strut has snapped. Welding it won’t fix the damage, it wouldn’t be strong enough, and anyway there are some bits missing, so it will have to be replaced. We’ll need one of the spare struts labelled P24, and a new J12 socket, because this one has a crack in it.” Jack set about removing the damaged parts, while Ianto located the replacements in the kit they’d brought out with them.
“P24 and J12. Here you go.” Ianto handed the parts to his husband.
“Perfect. Now, hand me a couple of widgets.”
Ianto frowned, puzzled. “Which widgets would that be?” There was a whole toolbox full of little bits and pieces of varying shapes and sizes, all of which he thought could be classed as widgets.
“The little dark grey rubbery things in the compartment labelled ‘widgets’,” Jack explained helpfully.
Looking in the toolbox, Ianto discovered there was indeed a compartment labelled with the word. It contained perhaps a couple of dozen small, grey rubbery things. “Huh.” He plucked three of them out, passed two to Jack, and studied the one he was still holding. “So, this is a widget, is it?”
“One sort of widget,” Jack said. “Most systems have their own kinds. These are the ones for use on this weapons system.”
“Widgets for all occasions?” Ianto raised an eyebrow.
“And then some,” Jack agreed. “There are even a few brands of universal widgets, although it’s usually better to use the specialised kinds wherever possible.” With a deft twist of his wrist, Jack fitted the first widget into place, inserted the replacement socket and strut, then completed the repair with the second widget. He tested the movement, made a couple of small adjustments to the positioning of the second widget, then sat back on his heels, smiling in satisfaction. “See? Nothing to it. All you need are the right tools and parts.”
“And widgets.”
“Oh yes, you can never underestimate the importance of the humble widget. They hold things where they need to be. Everything would fall apart without them.”
Ianto dropped the extra widget back into its compartment and closed the lid. “Looks like I need to do some research on widgets and their applications.”
“You should,” Jack agreed. “It’s a fascinating field of study.” For once Ianto couldn’t tell whether or not his husband was being serious.
Packing up their tools, ready to move on to the laser repairs, Ianto was keenly aware of how much he still had to learn. It was a good thing he was immortal, he reflected, otherwise it would probably take the rest of his life. It still might.
The End
While the big haulage companies, with their mostly automated ships could afford to lose the occasional cargo, for independent hauliers, tangling with the rogues and renegades that stalked the spacelanes as often as not meant risking not only their cargoes, but their livelihoods and, in many cases, their lives.
Not all pirates were murderers. Some, considering themselves kind and generous, would strip the ships of everything that had any value but leave the crews alive, adrift without power, or even dump them on a nearby planet to await rescue, if and when help arrived. Others would take the crews with them, incorporating the willing members into their band and selling the rest into slavery. The vast majority, however, would simply kill everyone on board, space the bodies, then take not just the cargo but the whole ship. If they could. The independents didn’t make it easy for them, arming their ships with whatever weaponry they could afford and fighting back, but the pirates tended to be better armed and more numerous, not to mention more ruthless. They didn’t have anything to lose except their lives, and their freedom if they were caught.
Jack and Ianto’s ship, the Happy Wanderer, might look like an ordinary cargo transporter, but as with everything in the universe, appearances were often deceptive. She was armed to the teeth with every weapons system Jack had been able to fit her with. She had better shields than most law enforcement vessels, multiple lasers, projectile weaponry, an EM pulser, magnetic grapples, and her entire hull could be electrified, frying to death anyone who wasn’t inside, protected by her insulation. The Wanderer was definitely not a ship to be messed with, no matter how tempting a target she might appear.
Over the last seven months, pirates had attacked her nine times, and on each occasion, it had been the pirate ships that were left drifting helplessly, without power, waiting for the understaffed local authorities to arrive and pick up any survivors. Jack and Ianto had also gone to the aid of four other vessels under attack, rescuing the crews, although on two occasions they’d arrived too late to prevent the ships themselves from being damaged beyond repair. Ships could be replaced though; they and their cargoes were generally insured. Lives were more important.
This time around, during a prolonged battle with two heavily armed pirate ships, the Wanderer had once again been victorious, but both she and another cargo ship, which had been the pirates’ original target, had suffered damage. They’d limped their way to the nearest habitable but as yet uninhabited planet and set down on a convenient island in the midst of a vast ocean to make repairs to both vessels.
After helping the crew of the other ship to fix their damaged propulsion system and patch several holes in her hull, they’d turned their attention to the Wanderer, where, thanks to her reinforced hull, the damage was less severe. Two of her laser systems had shorted out through heavy, continuous use during the battle, and one of the projectile weapon mounts had been left hanging by not much more than the proverbial thread after suffering a direct hit from the pirates’ energy weapons. There was also minor damage to the port stabilisers, which had made landing the ship a bit hairy, but Jack was an expert pilot, with over a century’s experience under his belt. He’d made it seem easy.
Ianto, despite several decades of transporting cargo from place to place, still considered himself something of a novice when it came to spaceship repairs. It wasn’t like fixing a car. Inside the ship was one thing, he could handle minor issues with the plumbing and electrical systems, and even the life support, but working on her outer hull and weapons was another matter, and completely outside his experience. So, every time something got damaged, he received another lesson in spaceship maintenance and repair from Jack.
“See here?” Jack was pointing at the weapons mount. “This strut has snapped. Welding it won’t fix the damage, it wouldn’t be strong enough, and anyway there are some bits missing, so it will have to be replaced. We’ll need one of the spare struts labelled P24, and a new J12 socket, because this one has a crack in it.” Jack set about removing the damaged parts, while Ianto located the replacements in the kit they’d brought out with them.
“P24 and J12. Here you go.” Ianto handed the parts to his husband.
“Perfect. Now, hand me a couple of widgets.”
Ianto frowned, puzzled. “Which widgets would that be?” There was a whole toolbox full of little bits and pieces of varying shapes and sizes, all of which he thought could be classed as widgets.
“The little dark grey rubbery things in the compartment labelled ‘widgets’,” Jack explained helpfully.
Looking in the toolbox, Ianto discovered there was indeed a compartment labelled with the word. It contained perhaps a couple of dozen small, grey rubbery things. “Huh.” He plucked three of them out, passed two to Jack, and studied the one he was still holding. “So, this is a widget, is it?”
“One sort of widget,” Jack said. “Most systems have their own kinds. These are the ones for use on this weapons system.”
“Widgets for all occasions?” Ianto raised an eyebrow.
“And then some,” Jack agreed. “There are even a few brands of universal widgets, although it’s usually better to use the specialised kinds wherever possible.” With a deft twist of his wrist, Jack fitted the first widget into place, inserted the replacement socket and strut, then completed the repair with the second widget. He tested the movement, made a couple of small adjustments to the positioning of the second widget, then sat back on his heels, smiling in satisfaction. “See? Nothing to it. All you need are the right tools and parts.”
“And widgets.”
“Oh yes, you can never underestimate the importance of the humble widget. They hold things where they need to be. Everything would fall apart without them.”
Ianto dropped the extra widget back into its compartment and closed the lid. “Looks like I need to do some research on widgets and their applications.”
“You should,” Jack agreed. “It’s a fascinating field of study.” For once Ianto couldn’t tell whether or not his husband was being serious.
Packing up their tools, ready to move on to the laser repairs, Ianto was keenly aware of how much he still had to learn. It was a good thing he was immortal, he reflected, otherwise it would probably take the rest of his life. It still might.
The End
