A New Name

Military Hangar 


 * Taking up a long corridor of a third of a mile by a mile in size, this luna gray-bricked hangar looks fairly new. Its poured plascrete floor is marked out in bright white to designate parking for a variety of ship sizes, and even designates a large space at one end for special projects. A thick metal sliding door with a sensor allows entry and exit from the hangar, and a small staging area near the door has lockers for pilots, a microwave, sink, fridge, and several vending machines.

The military hangar is, for a change, full. Full of soldiers, that is - marines, more regular infantry (who are now trained to be marines but still wear their distinctive uniforms), naval people, engineers. Some of them wear the distinctive navy-blue dress uniform of the old NLM, kept over as a relic by the Vanguard 7 Combat Brigade. Many hundreds of others, though, do not- these are soldiers and crewpeople from the other two Vanguard Carriers in the fleet - they wear the distinctive black dress uniform of the standard Vanguard. All are formed up. Lucius is near the front of a marine formation,.

And the General is on a small podium, sitting with what remains of the 7th Brigade's Brass.

How unobtrusive can an ungstiri scientist be in a blue robe? Not very. Not that it comes for lack of trying, Gena with the Hancock's command team, to the side, with the rest of the station's naval officers.

Ivan is, for once, not in his worksuit. The Warrant Officer is standing with the rest of the Engineers, whereever they may be, dressed in his full uniform.

What a nice change! Even the wonderful construction workers are absent, their materials off to the side. There are covered portions of all ships present, all the former NLM ones. Captain Castus stays where he is, in front of his formation with his rifle held in one hand. It is cradeled on his shoulder in a formal guard position, the kind useful for looking pretty.

The General stands and clears his throat, that hidden microphone carries the cough throughout the hall, the universal call for silence.

Gena watches, of course - mind you, his 'at ease' is a bit more 'at ease' than most, but - he does his best. Really.

Ivan also remains where he is, no real expression on the Cheif's face for now. And even in his full uniform, he's still got his obligatory cane and techscanner, one held in one hand, the other tucked in a pouch at his side.

The fact that Gena's wearing a robe really gets a few amused, and some not so amused stares from a host of different Vanguard personel. All snap forward though when the General clears his throat. Similarly, Lucius stands at attention.

Standing forward so he can address his troops, the General clears his throat once more, sure that with silence reigning he has everyone's attention, "It's a strange day." He begins, but doesn't halt, "I never imagined that one day I'd be standing here in front of you, as a member of the Vanguard, a General with what was once the enemy. However this is a time for old differences to be put aside. Lunite working with Martian, Ungstiri with La Terran, Martian with Sivadian." There's a small smile, "And the Centaurans with anyone." He waits for the small laugh that spreads through the room at the customary joke.

Gennadiy cracks a grin. Of course.

The short Ungstiri in the Engineering lot gives one of his smirks, but doesn't laugh as of yet.

As one of those Martians, Lucius Tullius Castus grins at that, giving a bit of a chuckle. The Vanguard soldiers from the Brutus and Casca, some of them Lunites and most of them Martians, don't seem to mind the jibe and partake in the good spirit.

"We find ourselves in a moment when the struggle for survival forces us to put aside those old grudges and force us to become better than we were," says the General. "I knew that petitioning to join the Vanguard would be controversial, however, at the end of the day, too many of us are children of Sol." A small nod to those responsible, "So it is with joy at re-uniting with our kin, and determination to face the challenges ahead, that our fleet is re-christened."

Gennadiy raises a brow - from his expression, for those paying attention, this wasn't precisely what he was expecting.

Ivan just continues to listen, leaning against his cane, the short Ungstiri not doing too much else.

Lucius falls silent again, expression wiping blank as he listens to Gladstone.

Gladstone gives a small nod and sits down.

Gennadiy watches Gladstone - something about the man attracts his attention, and a rather speculative expression.

Ivan just remains where he is, still, watching to see if anything else is going to happen.

As the General takes his seat the ships all have their registry numbers unveiled, instead of their previous NLM designation, all now proudly bear the prefix VAN. A band strikes up and more than a few of the crowd get into the mood and cheer, a few are carried along with them. But some, can't help but scowl. The General just sits with a fixed smile. Which looks even odder because few have ever seen his real one anyway.

Lucius claps, and is one of those cheering enthusiastically. After a few minutes, people start to pour out of the room as the ceremony appears to be finished. Lucius is talking with one of the junior officers, but motions to Gladstone to say 'he'll be there in a bit'.

Gennadiy nods, to himself - and looks up to the ships; that same speculative expression - it never changes - tracking over the new registrations. he doesn't applaud, doesn't boo - just takes note.

Ivan looks over at the ships, raising an eyebrow slightly. He shrugs a bit, and nods to himself.

The General sits there, as people start to file out, the smile drops, and so does his head.

Gennadiy breaks ranks - or rather lets the ranks be broken around him. His own careful, limping steps take him in the direction of the podium, and the General, there. He moves up - if the marines allow - to within reaching distance.. and quietly fishes in that robe. After a moment, he comes up with.. a cigar, offered to Gladstone. "will clean filters later, da?"

Ivan looks about at the dispersing crowd. He nods to himself, and unlike Gena, is much more blunt about it all. He looks to Gladstone, trying to get the man's attention. If attention is granted, he simply points to the ships and the refitting equipment, raising a brow slightly.

The General reaches into his pocket and offers one of his own, it's a New Luna brand, "The old switcheroo?" He offers the ungstiri a wry smile, "When we said dress uniform..."

And he nods his head to Ivan.

"Hancock Station is nyi the same without one crazy fool keeping eye on things." Gena seems - oddly amused by that - "Besides. Other coat was being cleaned." He shrugs, raising that cigar to stick it in his own teeth, trading with Gladstone, it seems.

Ivan nods, then looks to his engineers, "Vi saw man, back to refits, da?" he says, and then the engineers are off, getting the ships and construction equipment back into position. Ivan heads over to where a bunch of worksuits have been piled, and selecting his, begins to get it on over his uniform.

Gladstone nods and sniffs the cigar, fetching out his cutter and lighter and lights up, in a low voice he says, "I never served with your old boss. But his reputation preceded him. For all his faults he would never have gone along with this..." He gestures to the ships, "charade." He watches as the engineers get back to work. "But it's necessary."

"Necessary is word politicans use to get bad taste out of mouth." Gena watches in the direction of that wave, for a moment, thoughtful. "But have sneaking suspicion are more than .." A nod to ivan, then a a wry look at Gladstone. "two, who feel homeless, today. Will nyi make vi popular man."

Ivan is too involved in his work at the moment to note the wave or the look. When his worksuit is on he's busy directing the other engineers. At the same time his techscanner is produced, tapping away and shouting directions over the growing noise. A table is set up, and Ivan begins to move over towards it, while shouting and tapping.

"I know," nods Gladstone taking a puff on cigar. "But I'll do what I have to and pay the price later." A small smile, "There's always a price. They'll hold until the Phyrrians are defeated. And then... then we'll see."

"da. Is way of things." Gena considers. "Do vi know the name Kapitan Mika Tachyon?"

Gladstone raises an eyebrow and shakes his head, "No." He asks around the cigar, "Should I?"

The noise level is still growing as Ivan and crew get back to work, plates now being attached to the ships again in the overlapping silver fish scale pattern. Ivan comes to rest at a table, still tapping. A number of higher ranking engineers show up around the table, as in, all of them are at least a sergeant. Plans are laid out, and the engineers begin speaking, pouring over whatever's on those plans.

The watcher chuckles, flashing Gladstone a grin. "Do nyi truly know, to be honest. Is criminal, pirate, idealist, with reward larger than ya bank balance, but - with very fast, very armed ship and vendetta. Am thinking perhaps vi should know am on good terms with her, da? Is small thing. But, small things are most useful things of all."

"Vendetta?" asks the General. "Against who?" He flicks some of the ash on the floor.

Ivan continues to look over his plans, conversing with the other engineers, not that they can be heard amongst the refits, though.

"Has nyi small amount of ire toward Phyrrians, of course." The ungstiri shrugs, slightly. "Has much strong dislike for authority, in end." He finally lights that cigar - philistine that he is, he puffs it alight, using an engineer's torch that he dredges out of an inner pocket. "Am nyi sure is as important as vi may think." Gena studies Gladstone for a moment - "Am on vi side, General."

"Probably the only one," growls the General. "Have you found out anything we can use? With the Brigadier's demise your intel hasn't been as available to us as it once was." The General does look tired. This ceremony probably took more fight out of him than he'd openly admit.

Ivan continues to work away, speaking with his other engineers as things are added to the plans.

Gennadiy says, "... about overmind and phyrrian threat? Nyet. When new luna comsats were hit, ya lost a great deal - and Ungstir was... damaging." Gena frowns, thoughtful. "but am slowly rebuilding contacts - and da, do have access to certain archives. As ya hear details, will let vi know."

"Appreciated," nods the General. "But please in future, try to keep your... allegiance a little more low-key. Vanguard still remember what Ryan did. Not the most popular figure with that sort."

And work continues, plates being put on and such. One might notice that over on the Hobart, the newly christianed part is slowly being covered up by the refitted plats.

Gennadiy nods. "why do vi think ya wore it?" There's a grim humor in that. "Are some that could use reminder. owe that to Jeff."

Gladstone chuckles and nods, "Perhaps." The General stands and offers the engineer his hand, "Good talking to you. First I've actually spoken to one of his organisation."

Ivan just continues to work, not seeming to notice most other things going on right now. Gennadiy shakes that hand firmly - "Doktor Gennadiy Andreovitch, General. Corporal, in this life." He adds, as an aside. "Izolda feels vi are cute. For the record."

Gladstone raises an eyebrow at that last, but around the cigar just says, "Well next time you're on duty, make sure you're in uniform. /Our/ uniform." He clarifies. And with that the General heads back to his paperwork.

Ivan just continues working, yup.

Gennadiy chuckles softly - and moves out of the hangar, his slow limp and the creak of his non-leg a quiet counterpoint to the more robust sparks and shouting and work going on farther in the hangar.