|Serendipitous Sanctuary| - Printable Version

Omicron Alpha
MNS Lancia D'Argento
Malta orbit, 30.284° off-plane ecliptic
11km separation from Valetta Shipyard
7 / 30 / 825AS, 8:09am

The Lancia righted itself, thruster jets firing to level-off and bring the ship to level with the orientation of the nearby massive shipyard that hung in the sky above Malta. Her refit completed in the months prior, she had just spent the past number of weeks in the Taus, operating as a vanguard vessel for any encroaching targets of opportunity; always aware, always keenly observing. Now however, she had returned to Malta, having undergone her trial-by-fire and emerged the victor in two separate engagements with no damage. She was back now to undergo a full logistics shakedown, and receive her first compliment of Scimitar interceptor-kitted light fighters. Officially anyway. There were other plans in motion, other operations to undertake, other pieces to nudge subtly into place. Every action the ship undertook was always to serve some greater agenda, some grander scheme in the goings-on of the northern Omicrons.

'In that way it was very much an avatar - a reflection of the organization that it served.' Harry mused to himself, contemplating the accomplishment that was the ship for a moment as the elevator descended to Deck 4. The doors parted before him, exposing the hangar-bay beneath through plexi-glass observation ports. Up until now, the hangar bay was the Maintenance staff's oyster, a wide-open expanded storage bay containing little more than a pair of Dromedary-shuttles for crew transfer purposes, and a sizeable number of multi-colored cargo bins and heavy machinery, all strewn about the compartment. That was, until about a week ago- when the crew made aware of the incoming fighters and pilots to accompany them, that an increased effort was made to clear the bay out and make it ready for full operation. The floor - now polished and cleaned of any and all scuff marks and spills - was near spotless all the way from the floor beneath the window, to the aft interior wall. He smirked, enjoying for a moment the accomplishments the ship and her crew had made since the inception of the Sicily project- just how much had changed with the ship, and the organization that outfitted her had with it.

To his left was the door into the flight-control bunker; essentially the interior-facing control room for all incoming and outgoing fighter operations ship-wide. Inside were a trio of LSOs and a small handful of other crewmen milling around the room, preparing flight-operations plans and rosters for the incoming pilots that were scheduled to arrive in a few hours. Cane in hand, he approached the control officer nearest to the port-entryway he had just used, placing a hand on the man's shoulder.

"Felix Rais. How are we in here today sir?" The young man - relatively meek in size and stature - looked up from the charts on his pad, back in Callahan's direction.

"So far? As well as can be expected sir, just prepping for later today, we should be about ready in here in about an hour or so. I can have our schedule forwarded up to your cabi--"

"I don't believe that'll be necessary- what I do need from you is a favor, a relatively minor one actually."

"Oh, uh sure.. sir. Are we talking a personal favor or the usual kind?"

"A bit of a mixture of both I'm afraid, though more the latter than otherwise."

Callahan hooked his cane along the edge of the desk where inlay the console next to Felix, and sat in the chair beside the young man. He relaxed in his seat, while retaining a dignified posture with his legs crossed and hands in his lap. A pause persisted as Felix awaited his answer- Harry simply stared forward for a few moments, eyeing the bay below for a time before finally speaking up.

"A dozen vessels are due aboard today as part of our official outfitting. We've spent the better part of this morning making ready for that. What we haven't made ready for is this--"

Another pause persisted, then Harry turned to face the man at his side.

"An additional two vessels will also be joining us today in roughly half an hour. One a Griffin light fighter with a pair of escort fighters to be waved off, the other will arrive shortly before - a Bayonet bearing friendly IFF. Both are to be handled by you and you alone, and no mention of it is to exist beyond this conversation. Both are to be guided to the aft-storage hangar, which will be cleared of all personnel besides a pair of guards that I've already sent that way. And if anyone asks any questions, tell them it is strictly need-to-know. Am I clear?"

"Bayonet and a Griffin to the aft-hangar. Absolutely sir, I'll call down and have the compartment cleared for you in just a moment."

Excellent.

Harry stood, offering the man at his side a brief toothless smile in thanks before nabbing his cane and walking on, back towards the way he came in.

---

In his personal lounge, one door disconnected from his own quarters, Callahan sat and sipped a glass, casually awaiting the arrival of his guest while idly swiping through operational files on a datapad in his lap to pass the time. He'd sent the guards below to escort his guest to this room a while prior, and now simply lounged, waiting, perusing, and listening to the control tower's communications over a wireless receiver he'd positioned on the end-table next to him. A simple meet-and-greet was more or less all that was on the docket for today, but little was being left to chance, as was standard operating procedure.

Some time passed, until the receiver blared to life:

"Contact on close-range: light fighter with Amalfi escorts on approach, CBDR, 10 minutes. "

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