Returning to the main Hub, Ianto tugged his overalls off and collapsed on the sofa with a groan, wiping his soot-streaked forehead with the back of one hand.
“How’s it looking down there?” Jack asked, handing him a bottle of water.
“Not good, the alien mould’s spreading fast. The flamethrowers are keeping it confined to level nine for now, but we can’t hold it off indefinitely. If Owen doesn’t come up with something to kill it soon, the whole Hub will be green and fuzzy by the end of next week. Imagine what that’ll do to the archives!”
TBC in ‘You Solve One Problem…’