Despite telling Dagon to expect his men, Blake decided to change the plan and pick him up personally. After walking through several crowded corridors, he has reached the docks. He took a moment to gaze at his ship - "Ironside", a battered and scorched Percheon-class transport that had a short but intense history under the Cohort. It was certainly not the fastest nor strongest ship, but it was Blake's favorite nevertheless. PDA buzzing has snapped him back so he proceeds to take it out of his jacket. A message from Dagon. He starts reading it, mumbling to himself:
"I'm waiting... Come on, Legionnaire, time's wasting... Hah."
He picks up the pace and enters his ship. Permission to launch has been received and a moment later he has found himself in open space. A course has been plotted; grid-square A-6. A barren part of Vespucci far out of the Veracruz Ice Field that was of no interest for neither of the system inhabitants, offering a perfect location for the meeting. After all, the secrecy was more than necessary as not many would condone Blake's daring plan to invite a sworn enemy to their homes.
As soon the destination was in scanner range, he brought his engines to a full stop so he can start a short-range sensor sweep. He caught a faint signal originating from his destination and matching IFF metadata Dagon has sent him. He hesitates for a moment. Could it be a trap? Has he been tricked? There's one way to find out. He turns on his low-band radio and speaks out.
The Sunburst was already cloaked for the past two minutes when the Percheron appeared on the long range scanner. Meallan soon began to collect data about it and it struck a record of an engagement against the Cohort, two months ago. It was a solid ship and by the looks of the scan, old as well. Blake called him on the low-range radio comm and Meallan smirked, somewhat. Even so, he knew he was entering a nest of asps, with only a rope to pull him back up. Luckily that rope was made out of cold hard steel, but then again, he couldn't say no to the Warspite. He opened up the comm to reply at the same time he disengaged the cloaking device.
"Hi there, Blake. Dagon here. Turning on engines, proceeding to your location."
He sat on the pilot seat as the engines burned bright to life, shaking off whatever space dust and ice that accumulated all over his Sunburst. Quickly, it flew towards the Percheron, weapons online, shield up, scanners on full.
Blake felt a great sense of relief when he heard Dagon's voice. A first step has been made, and it was a success. But he was aware that there is a long way to the finish line. He stands up and walks towards another console on the far edge of the bridge. After pressing several buttons, a loud rumble is heard in the distance; hull starts to creak as it will shatter any moment. Blake and the rest of the crew were used to it, so they remain calm. He grabs his low-band radio once again.
"You got me worried for a moment, Dagon. I have opened the rear cargo door. Park inside and we'll be on our way. Let's not waste time, shall we?"
He puts down the radio and remains still for a moment, assuring himself that the worst has passed. He stands up and starts walking towards the bridge's blast doors so he can take the lift to lower levels and meet Dagon in the hold. As he reaches the doors, he stops for a moment and turns towards one of the deck officers.
"You have the conn. Raise the doors once he's in and set course for Atacama."
Gently setting down inside the spacious cargo bay, the Sunburst engines went silent as the cargo bay doors closed. Less than a minute later, the bay was pressurized and Meallan could feel the familiar tug of the engines pushing the ship forward. Finally exiting his ship, he was greeted by the gun-sights of two former Legionnaires, obviously the on-site security. He rose his hands and did a small twirl, as one of them scanned him for weapons. Finally ending it, the one with the scanner on hand nodded to the other one that promptly tilted the muzzle of the rifle down. An Ageira XV-15, with a folding stock and customized reflex sight. A not that much gentleman weapon.
"XV-15's. C variant. Top of the line.. a year ago."
Meallan lowered his hands down and placed them in his pockets, looking at the two security guards. The story of his life, by now. If it wasn't in the Legion, it was in the 404. If it wasn't in the 404, it was in Southampton. He always wondered if engineers always ranked high in their baddies list.
"Your boss coming to see me?"
He asked as both guards relaxed somewhat, and nodding at his question. Meallan just shrugged and leaned onto the Sunburst, thinking on how a cold beer would be just right, there and then.
As he exits the elevator, he hears that familiar rumble spreading throughout his ship once again. It was a definite sign that the shuttle has landed and his guest is onboard, waiting. A moment of silence is followed by a sound of engine ignition and maneuvring thrusters. Upon entering the cargo bay, he looks around and immediately notices a Sunburst on the landing pad and an elegant man accompanied by two guards. There was no doubt it's Dagon.
"Meallan Dagon... Welcome aboard."
Guards step aside as Blake walks in and stop in front of Dagon. Without losing his poker face, he extends his arm and firmly shakes Dagon's hand. After the formalities have been concluded, Blake points towards the gate he just arrived from.
"This way. We'll be arriving to Atacama shorty. I'm sure you're eager to see her."
Blake seemed to be a no non-sense kind of guy, professional, no time for bs and not easy to trigger. Meallan knew quite a lot of those. Had to, in the line of work that he had. As they walked towards the gate, he started to talk.
"We still have to discuss particulars. Not shooting my lily white ass and my family isn't all I want out of this, Blake. You want the 'Spite back and running, I want to get out of this alive with my status quo unchanged to Sirius. As in, I ain't Meallan Dagon for the time being. And.. I want to peruse my eyes through what the gaian 'water and bread' engineers crank out of their cells."
He did finger quotes when he mentioned the water and bread, while Blake called for the service lift, and turned around to look at Meallan with a very no nonsensical kind of face.
"Engines. Guns. Ships. The works. Tit for tat, since your eyes gonna be looking under the skirt of that Judi with me shinning a light and pointing you what's what."
The lift opened its doors and Blake, silently, motioned with his hands for Meallan to enter, which he did. Blake soon followed and pressed a button to one of the levels.
A moment Blake was waiting for. He expected the deed will cost him more than he can offer, but on his surprise, the demands sound reasonable... For now. He turns towards Dagon to start the discussion.
"I have already taken all the precautions regarding your stay on the Atacama. A cargo bay is under lockdown and will remain so until the repairs are completed. As for the personnel, I have handpicked our best and most trusted engineers. Don't worry, both your life and your reputation are safe. As for your family, I cannot guarantee every last Gaian will follow the order and there will not be some kind of isolated incident. I cannot oversee all my men, and especially not those of the Watchers and Emerald Order. But... I'll make sure neither of the commanders ever come up with an idea to shoot a Dagon."
He turns towards the gate again as the elevator nears its destination. He decided to wrap up other matters with a short comment.
"Engines... Guns... Ships... That's rather unspecified. Give me details and I'll get it done."
Meallan grinned at Blake's answer. Not that he had any ulterior motives to see how the Gaians developed their own propulsion and weaponry technology. He just wanted to see what paths other minds went when faced with the eternal problem of "How can I make this go faster? And how can I make this shoot better? And how can I make this sturdy?"
"The PT-HN D Engine series. Top to bottom. Plus, I saw the scorch marks on a Templar from a edgy Gaian sporting Gaia's Angels. Plasma scorch marks. I'm mighty interested in that. Also, I want to take a peek at the Panther. To see what makes her twitch and turn."
His mind kept racing for more questions he could have, regarding Gaian tech. Obviously, the trail of thought invariably ended on the Warspite. He remembered watching Glass hooked up to monitors, all messed up. The beep of the automated medic the only companion for her, these days.
"Also, where are we going to fix the 'Spite? You got a base with big enough yard to accommodate it?"
The price of Dagon's request was high. Handing out blueprints of most advanced technology the Gaians possess to an enemy is a treason, no matter the motives behind it. That is, it is treason if the command finds out. But, Blake was a gambler and cared little of a Gaian opinion on the matter. He has decided that it's a risk worth taking and there was no one to dissuade him in doing so.
"Consider it done. You'll have more than enough time to study them once we're done."
The elevator reaches its destination and the door opens. A bridge was in front of them, one that was certainly not even close to a luxurious standard of Libertonian warships or Orbital liners. Battered equipment, half-burnt plating, wires hanging out of the ceiling. The ship has been to hell and back. Blake exits the elevator and starts walking towards the captains quarters that were on the far side of the bridge, with Dagon following him.
"We'll be moving it elsewhere. We don't have a proper yard, but I know someone who does. But, Warspite is in bad shape and will not be able to endure the journey so the initial phase of repairs will have to be conducted on the Atacama."
His feet stopped walking, as his mind started to race at what should be an impossible pace. All the problems, all the variables and all the eff ups pending to happen in the possible avenues that they might have. The Warspite was clearly holding its position inside the Veracruz Icefield for more than two years. Asteroid hitting it, radiation from the Vespucci sun and the Barrier, deteriorating seals, botched up armor plates, the engines were dead without a doubt and according to what he remembered from the after-action report from the crew that did managed to escape with their lives, the scuttle protocol fried every system, flooded the engines with fuel and burned every shunt and grid. And they didn't had a berth for it.
"Old school it is then. I need... "
Meallan's eyes ran through the bridge gear and raised an eyebrow. How the hell did they managed to jury rig a Churchill's power control console to a Percheron's makeshift CIC? His face turned to Blake with a grin.
"A Bustard-level shield, zero-g Kishiro manufacturing suits for the whole team, five... hundred units of DSE-VX robotics, enough metal to build the supporting struct for the 'Spite, and a direct uplink to your base power-core to fuel the shield. We got to put that lady in a bubble, safe and sound from all the rads and incoming asteroids."
His eyes dropped to floor thinking on what else was needed for the first stage of bringing back the Warspite back to life, delivering hell and wrath as it should since day one.
"Oh, three tugs to pull the 'Spite into position and cold beer. Just to start this up."
![[Image: UlF3YqX.png]](http://i.imgur.com/UlF3YqX.png)