"Should be done by tomorrow. Bustard-level shield, though... I'll have to pull a few strings. The ship has already been hauled into position and one decompression chamber separates it from the base interior. That should ease the access. Anything else?"
Blake stops in front of blast doors and types access code on the panel. The door raises and reveals his chambers. A modest cabin with a bed, Neural-Net access terminal, few cabinets, a shut window and a table filled with system charts and scrambled messages, riddled with personal notes and scorched with cigars. He walks to a cabinet and opens it. It was freezer filled with all kind of fine and expensive alcoholic drinks, obviously stolen from some Spa and Cruise yacht that fallen victim to Cohort raiding party. He pulls two beers out of it and offers one to Dagon.
He gingerly accepted the cold beverage, opening it up with a satisfying sound of the pressure inside the can dropping to equalize the pressure of Blake's room. Rising it as a toast, he sipped it, enjoying the chill. "This is a good start. Now.."
He said, while looking around and walking towards the table to place the beer down. Finally with both hands clear, he opened his small wrist-pad and started to type the initial commands to start a new project.
"I hope you boys already scanned that lady from top to bottom. I could fancy to take a looksie while we're heading.. to where we're heading."
Blake raises the bottle as a toast and takes a big sip. There was nothing better than a cold beer after a long and stressful day. Well, except for a glass of fine whiskey. He took a moment to enjoy his beverage before he continued.
"Complete scan of the vessel interior and exterior as well as full damage assessment have been completed. As we expected, time was not kind on her. All of the systems will have to be brought into working condition and upgraded to Cohort standards and norms, some even remade from scratch as there's nothing to salvage. You'll have to talk to our lead engineer if you want details, though. "
He gets interrupted by a distant alarm sound. A warning rather than a distress, notifying the personnel that a final approach for Atacama docks has begun. Blake walks to the window and pulls a lever that swiftly rolls the protective panel off the window exterior, giving them a clear view towards the station. Pointing towards the outside, he gestures Dagon to come closer and have a look.
Leaning on the ledge of the window, Meallan was there for some good ten seconds silent and sipping the beer. His eyes focused on the Warspite, the promise it was once was, wrecked years ago. And now she was back into his hands again. Ready to have its resurrection. "You know.. I think these-"
His beer holding hand managed to get the index finger pointing at the Warspite and his eyes squinted at a small detail on the ship, and grew silent. Blake raised an eyebrow while he took another taste of his beer. Meallan broke off from whatever he noticed and looked at Blake with a slight sheepish look.
"Sorry. I tend to dive into it when a project starts. Anyhow, I think these ships have something of a soul, Blake. I know it ain't exactly a kosher idea with your pals, but if you're a pilot, if you're a crewman with enough years in space, you know they treat you as good as you treat them. Sometimes.. it stops being a user-machine relation.. and becomes something else."
He looked back at the broken, dead Judi through the window and smiled sadly for a second before chuckling and finishing his beer.
"Don't mind me, I'm a superstitious man when old ladies are in sight. So, let's start this show? You got me a fake paperwork or something so that your people don't look at me sideways?"
Observing Dagon's reaction to seeing the Warspite, Blake knew that inviting him was a good move. Cohort engineers are skilled and experienced in conducting repairs even in harshest environments, but none of them do it with passion. A passion that will drive them forward and make sure their results are flawless. He turns towards the window once again and takes a long stare at the Judicator.
"When she came to us, we thought it is the beginning of our end. I never expected we'll survive. I never expected to be here. To do... This. I would have never guessed that she will be our savior. So... Yeah. I get it."
Without breaking eye contact with the Warspite, he takes a sip of his beer. This was more than business for him. Since it was a matter of minutes when will the "Ironside" land, he decided to control his emotions and proceed to settle Dagon's concerns. Gesturing him to follow his lead, he takes a long walk towards the cargo hold. He continues once they leave his quarters.
"I have put the whole deck under quarantine. No one gets in, no one gets out. Only a handful of engineers and a dozen workers will be working on the project. I have told them that I'll be bringing an Emerald Order officer to aid with the project so that'll be your cover story in case someone starts asking too many questions. They might be looking down on you as you're not a Legionnaire, but at least you'll be alive. One person is aware of your true identity. In case anything happens... She'll be your go-to."
Listening to Blake explaining his cover, Meallan couldn't help to smirk. It has been quite a while since he got to actually use the skillset he and her sister were trained to. Losing his customary Libertonian drawl, his accent changed to what was his birthright. "Don't you worry, Mr. Blake. You will see how good of a Bretonian I can be."
Looking around and checking they were alone, he continued to talk as they walked, his beer still in his hand, waiting for the last sips.
"The whole 'Gaia' syndrome' is not something I am used to, but speaking about photosynthesis should scare away some of your Legionnaire fellas. Also, who's the bird you mentioned?"
He sipped the beer with a grin, content on the effect that his quick change of accent brought on.
Blake chuckled while listening to Dagon's impersonation. Good or bad, it didn't matter as the Legionnaires do not often meet Bretonians. Rare visits from their Gaian brothers are only contacts they have with the outside world. Atacama, Vespucci, Legion... That's all they know of. That all they care of.
"That'll do fine. We have a difficult assignment in front of us. My men will be focused on work and will either be too tired or too busy to ask questions. Besides... Who would ever expect I'd bring a Hellfire Legion officer to work on our project?"
Blake laughs out loud. He was assured that no one will see through his cunning plan. Reaching the elevator, he steps inside and presses a button. The elevator doors close and they slowly begin to descend back to the hold.
His lips pursed into a thin line, as if he was five and he just landed on a puddle dressed in his sunday best outfit with his mother was watching. He shrugged slightly, trying to stave off the awkward moment and looked at Blake. "Eh, sorry about that. Guess I got deep into the character."
The elevator halted, and they were back into the hold, with Meallan's ship in view and the same guards watching over it.
"Sooo uh. Let me get started, got a slew of stuff to carry in. You can put my cot inside the workshop by the by, since I like to be close to the lady I'm working with."
The beer can delivered its last content and Meallan threw it at the nearest recycling bin.
Amused by Dagon's reaction, Blake could not stop himself from chuckling.
"That was rather mild in comparison to things I usually hear."
Walking towards the Dagon's ship, he gestures two guards to commence the decompression and lower the blast doors. The moment they notice it, they run towards the nearest panel and a loud air exhausts can be heard in the distance. The procedure was rather quick and followed by that distinct rumble throughout the ship. Blast doors have been lowered and revealed a large hangar overstuffed with crates, machines and workers. Reaching Dagon's ship, he continues.
"You can leave your ship here, there's no safer place than the Ironside. Don't worry, it ain't going anywhere. Prepare your bags and I'll make sure that my men deliver them to your room. As for your suite... It can't be any closer."
Poining a finger towards the far side of the hangar, Blake shows Dagon what they have prepared for him. A modest suite on the upper floor of the hangar, with a balcony overlooking the construction site.
He plugged in the last energy connection and turned on the main switch. Suddenly his whole room came to life, with several holo consoles initiating startup routines and the main holo table softly turning on. He wiped out the sweat from his brow and nodded at Jackson, one of the workers.
"Solid thanks, guv'na. Time to get cracking on the old bird, eh?"
Meallan produced a small data-disc that was delivered by one of the engineers, filled with the scan data. Jackson nodded back and left the room, closing the door as he exited. Meallan awaited for the click of the door closing and exhaled slowly, relaxing somewhat. It had been ages he had to put up with a facade for so long, but he was in for the long haul on this one. Looking at the disk, he slowly started up a tune and walked to the holo table, plugging in the data-disk.
"Hi there, girl."
Several readings started to emerge to the side and Meallan whistled again, turning on a parser to data-mine them. It would take a while, but the Cohort was thorough. The first scans were more than a year old, and a timeline of scans was present, showing off the evolution of damage both exterior and interior.