When the door opened, his ears were greeted to the familiar sounds of any flight deck; multiple messages blaring over the PA system announcing incoming and outgoing wings, not to mention the familiar sounds of repair and other works going on.
Directly ahead of him a serviceman stood not 6 feet from the transport's entrance. Wearing the standard white service-side uniform of the GTVA's logistic arm, Bosch glanced at the blue eppulets on the shoulders, and seeing a lack of rank, looked down to the arm where a small 'v' shape was capped by a semi-circle - a Lance Corporal. The serviceman was quite tall, easily towering over Bosch by several inches, and looked to be quite fit, if tired. Bloodshot blue eyes stared out from sunken sockets, which in turned had dark circles around then. The most notable feature however was a thick moustache that covered a significant portion of his upper lip. It seemed to creep around the sides of his mouth to give the appearance of a small beard. On the serviceman's right brest was a name tag, with gold letters spelling out the name 'P. Lazar” on a black background.
Bosch came to a stop just an arm's length from the serviceman, who saluted crisply once he had stopped. “Captain Bosch?” His tone was surprisingly soft for a person his size, and the volume was more like that of a harsh whisper than anything else.
“Yes. And you would be...?” Bosch asked in return.
“In this case, I would be your Runner, Sir. I am also doubling as your clerk of sorts, since the current one left with the previous department head.”
The man brought up hand, extending it to Bosch. Bosch, for his part, took it and shook it firmly. “My name is Paul Lazar Sir, LCP Paul Lazar – if you wish though, you can just call me paul.”
Bosch nodded. Casual up front he thought to himself. He didn't mind it much, as long the work got done.
Then Paul continued speaking.“I have read about your previous history, Sir, and from the looks of it, you'll be right at home here.”
Now that caught Bosch's attention. How had this clerk managed to get access to his profile history at all? It should have been classified several levels above his clearance, at least.
As if he was reading Bosch's mind, Paul's lips curved up in a slight smile before he continued.
“I understand that you think the profile is supposed to be private; but after working here for years on end, you tend to have the occasional contact here and there that helps you wish such things. That, and information isn't exactly completely controlled here, as you will soon find out.”
He stretched out his right hand, offering to carry Bosch's bag, but Bosch simply shook his head. He sighed internally – well, this was the GTVI – hell, he'd be surprised if they hadn't examined his profile at least six times already.
“Well then, Paul, it is good to meet you. However, I believe that I have to meet Commodore Goldbridge?”
Paul simply nodded, the smile fading just as quickly as it appeared.
“Yes, but she's...conviently 'occupied' by some meeting or the other at the moment. If you catch my drift, that is.”
Bosch simply nodded. He caught the drift. Another slacker....as if I hadn't encountered enough of these types already Bosch thought to himself. Although the Combat side definitely had it's heroes and a sense of honor...the coldness; the politics that came with the service side sent chills down his spine, and hence the reason for his attempts to get back to combat. He'd seen too many people like this; been backstabbed way too many times to go through it again....well, at least as the head of a project, he had a certain amount of immunity.
Paul stepped aside and waved his arm towards the exit on his right. “However, she did ask me to give you a tour of the shipyard first, if you are willing. Otherwise, you can wait in her office for her arrival.” he raised an eyebrow, waiting for Bosch's response.
Bosch only nodded. Having a look at the shipyards would be preferable to simply sitting in the office – reconnasaince and information gathering were always important parts of any assignment; regardless of where that assignment may be.
Paul nodded, and lead the way towards the door. It opened, revealing the internals of a large lift. Paul stepped in, and Bosch followed suit. To the right of the door was a control panel with several buttons on it, each corresponding with the floor of the installation.
Paul was about to reach for the panel, before turning to Bosch and asking “So, sir, which level would you like to examine first?”
Bosch thought for a second, unsure of which destination to go to. Finally, he spoke.
“The construction docks itself; engineering deck.”
Paul nodded and pressed the appropriate button. The lift doors closed as the cabin lights blinked for a second. This alarmed Bosch a bit and he immediately grabbed the railing next to him, in case something happened, but Paul was quick to reassure him.
“Relax, sir, these old lifts may be a bit cranky, but they still work just as good as they do when they were built.”
The lift surged sideways, surprising Bosch again. For a moment he couldn't help but think, what had he gotten himself into?
Around half a minute later, the lift stopped and the doors opened.
The scene beyond was that of a normal engineering deck, the sounds varying from large steel hammers to welders and loud cutters. Stepping out, Bosch looked up at a criss-crossing series of tracks up on the ceiling, upon which several cranes made their way across the docks. The docks itself was vast, completely different from the bay he had just come from. Although there was an airlock and an exit similar to the other one, Bosch realized that this one was only intended to move parts out towards the ganeymede once they were too large for the Arcadia.
His attention was attacted to some activity to his right. Nearby was a square construction pit, with a crane hovering above it, holding within the lattice of chains a large brown cylinder. As the thing rotated however, Bosch noticed the ingrained front side and realized it was actually a massive beam cannon. He had to wonder though, what the hell was so big that it required a beam cannons that size? Indeed, no ship today could wield such a thing on it's own. Realizing it was probably classified, he didn't give much attention to it anyway. Instead, he focused on the people around it. Near the pit was a man dressed in a blue engineering coverall, a yellow safety hat and a green luminescent vest. In either hand he was waving green flourescent cones, signalling the crane operater above on the adjustments required. What was more interesting however, were the commands he was shouting out.
Bosch drew away from Paul, grabbing a safety helmet from a nearby rack and then walking towards the pit. Paul simply followed behind.Approaching the man, Bosch stood back a few feet from him, arms crossed he simply listened as the man shouted to the person in the crane above.
“Allright, nice and easy now! Easy...easy.....over to the right a bit there! No, no! Not to the left, to the right! Yeah, that's better! Ok, get ready to lower the cannon! Slowly! Slowly now!”
However, the crane operater didn't seem to have heard it properly, and the cannon seem to come down pretty fast.
“What the – slower! SLOWER DAMNIT!” The man shouted, taking a step back from the pit as the cannon carreened downwards, threatening to hit the floor as hard as it could.
Then, at the last possible second, the Cannon jerked to a stop mere inches from the floor and then gently came to rest on the floor, with barely a thud or any other sound for that matter.
“Bloody hell! VENSON!! “ The man shouted, looking up at the crane and raising his fist. He let slew a hail of curses at the operater, till the person in question popped his head out the window, his face smiling.
“Relax boss! I've been operating cranes for 10 years now – you should know that by now!” Venson said, ignoring the cursing.
“I don't care even if you've been working with them for a 100 years! This thing's damn important and word's come out from the top that it's to be handled carefully. If anything's damaged, I swear to god - “
“You swear you won't be doing much except docking my pay in exchange.” Bosch spoke out from behind the man. Bosch could've sworn the man jumped out of his skin in surprise as he whirled around to face Bosch. He instantly realized his hunch was correct as he stared into the very angry face of Lt. Commander Gibson.
Gibson simply stared at Bosch for a second, his eyes narrowing. He was about to say something, but stopped, then started again before pausing...and a seconds after, only muttered a single word, pointing at Bosch with his right index finger.
“You!”
“Yes, Gibson, me. Long time no see.” Bosch replied, smiling a bit.
“You know...you are SO a target for a sucker punch right now.” Gibson replied, before letting out a loud laugh. He turned back up towards the crane operater. “Hey Venson! Get down here! It's Bosch!”
“It's WHO?” Venson asked, looking down from the window. He spotted Bosch and cursed. “Holy ****! If it isn't crash-man Bosch himself!” Venson's head immediately disappeared from the window and the crane's operating booth lowered itself to the ground. The door then opened on the side and Venson stepped out. He was also dressed pretty much the same way Gibson was, except the ranks on his shoulder had one less bar than Gibson's.
Venson pulled up next to Gibson, the latter of whom elbowed him and asked, somewhat jokingly.
“Hey, the man here just scared the living daylights out of me – tell me, should I sucker punch him or what?”
“Well, if I'm not wrong, he does still owe you for that game of darts” Venson replied.
Bosch raised his hands up, in the form of surrender. “Hey, I won that game fair and square – it's not my fault that your aim is lousy when you're drunk.”
“Yeah...drunk on your damn beer! If you hadn't offered me that drink, you'd have had your ass handed to you on a silver platter and you know it – now pay up my 5 creds!” Gibson replied, his tone joviant. He outstretched his right hand, as if to receive payment.
Bosch, in turn, stepped back. “Hell no way I'm giving you the money! You chose to take that drink, not me! I'm not gonna pay for your lack of control!”
They all paused for a few seconds, an unusual silence befalling them suddenly. As sudden as it came though, it vanished as each one laughed audibly.
The scene was interrupted however, as Paul cleared his throat from behind Bosch, attracting their attention.
“Sir, you know the Captain?” he asked Gibson.
Gibson simply looked at the rank and cursed. “Holy ****! How the heck did you get that 3rd bar so quickly, Bosch? You're a captain already? Jeeezus! And you still don't want to pay me!”
Bosch simply smiled. “All comes with age, my friend.” He turned around to Paul, to answer his question.
“I do know the commander here. We were stationed on the Bastion together before our squadron shifted out. We've been together since after that till it was dissasembled around a decade or so ago.”
“I hope you don't mind me asking, sir, but which squad?” Pual asked, his features in a frown. Bosch could see that he was somewhat annoyed that he had overlooked this detail. But then, Bosch could hardly expect someone so young to know something that was such a piece of ancient history.
Bosch looked to the others for a second before looking back at Paul.
“Why, probably the best squadron to be ever stationed on the Bastion itself! We flew with the finest pilots of the day and were even involved to extent with the McCarthy trails. Our squad was a part of history, and well, so were we. But if I tell you it's name, you have to promise me something.”
Again, he glanced at the others before continuing.
“We were all part of the 81st Screaming Weasels, the best and fastest interceptor squad of the Great war.”
“The 81st Screaming what?” Paul asked, frowning, obviously not believing what he had heard.
“The 81st Screaming Weasels, my friend, and no, you didn't hear it wrong – it IS weasels.” Bosch replied.
“Now that is a rather.....'eccentric' name.” Paul replied, his tone controlled; but Bosch could tell that underneath it, the man must have been laughing like hell. Almost everyone did when they first heard the name; but they took it all back when they saw them perform.
Rather than press the point, Bosch simply placed a hand on Paul's shoulder.
“When you get the chance, go read up on the air shows from around a decade ago – we were part of the performances then.”
He turned to Gibson and Venson and nodded. “Well, Gentlemen, perhaps a beer at the bar a bit later? I have to go report to the Commodore and then I have to report for my other assignment on this installation.”
Both men nodded. Venson waved and headed off to get back into the crane. But Gibson remained; before he turned around and left, he asked one last question.
“So, Bosch, where have you been posted to?”
“I'll be taking command of the Iceni project, and the commodore was supposed to brief me on another project i'm supposed to be co-partnering in. Supposedly it has something to do with my background with the GTI and it's technology.”
Gibson stared blankly at Bosch for a moment. Then he took a step back, as if in shock. He raised his right hand, pointing it squarely at Bosch.
“Hooooly ****! So your the dead man that he was talking about!” Gibson exclaimed.
Bosch frowned for a second. What was Gibson talking about – or rather, who was he talking about?
“I'm the dead man who was talking about?” He replied, making his confusion evident to Gibson (as if he didn't know already).
Gibson simply smiled and lowered the hand. “Oh, you'll see. The only warning I can give you is to look out for Mara – she's one hell of a mean ***** for sure.”
With that, Gibson nodded and then saluted. “Well, I gotta go back to work now – got a schedule to keep. Good luck with your meeting Bosch. Come by the bar in around three hours or so if you're free – i'll gather up the whole gang and introduce you to them, but I think you know some of them already.”
He then turned around and walked off, leaving Bosch even more mystified than ever. Behind him, Paul cleared his throat, catching his attention. Bosch turned to face him,
“Sir. The Commodore wishes to see you now. If you will follow me, I will take you to her.”
Bosch nodded and followed Paul back into the elevator, somewhat wary of what was going to happen next.
