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"How the hell would I know, Jones? I've been placed under house arrest in my office for doing my bloody job. Not my fault that idiot got in the way of my fist and couldn't take a punch, now is it? So, I can't see or hear what the hell is going on down on the hangar floor, which is my domain and I should have bloody access to it, damn it! And no one answered your call down there because they're all a bunch of cowering pussies hiding under their toolboxes. Certainly didn't come to their Head Engineer's aid, did they? Techies aren't known for their courage, boy. Give 'em a decent-sized wrench and they might come out swinging if you're lucky, but point a rifle in their face and they're a bunch of whimpering ninnies, aren't they? It's bloody hard to get good help these days. Bloody hard!"
"Okay," Jones said cheerfully, ignoring Cathcart's ire and general ornery demeanour. "Thanks for your time."
The medic cut the connection and dialled another number.
"Sanders," an equally grumpy voice said over the speakers a second or two later.
"Infirmary here, Security. You haven't happened to see my second patient anywhere down in the hangar there, have you?"
"No, I bloody well haven't, Jones! I've been placed under house arrest in my office for breaking into my own bloody armoury. I'm nowhere near the bloody hangar now. And probably never will be again, come to think of it. Everything is FUBAR here, son. Take my advice, leave now while you've got the chance and to hell with the country. What?" he shouted as if to someone else. "I can't even voice my disgruntlement with the government now? Are we living in some bloody police state or something? Did I miss the military coup while I was taking a shit this morning? Morons! The whole bloody lot of you! Bloody morons!"
The call disconnected, but not by Jones' hand.
"Well," the medic said. "That's a worry." He didn't sound particularly worried. "I suppose I could try Hospitality."
"Don't bother," I offered with a sigh. "Try Orion 0 directly."
"I've never dialled an Orion before. Always a first time, though." Jones looked up the correct connection code and entered it into the comm unit.
The call rang but was not answered.
"Maybe they've arrested the Orion, too," Jones offered.
Or, more likely, arrested Rafe, because it would have looked like he stole the Vehicle to Anderson and Anderson was a bloody fucking idiot.
I ran a hand through my hair and said, "Try Dean Thomas. I don't think he's done anything lately to get arrested."
"I wouldn't count on it," Jones said with a chuckle. He dialled, and the call connected.
"Infirmary here, Techie Thomas," Jones said when no one immediately spoke upon answering the call.
"This isn't Technician Thomas," a voice I didn't recognise said. "What do you need?"
"Ah, who's this then?" Jones asked.
"Security."
"Our Security?"
"You don't have an active Security."
"Oh, you're Anderson's security, then?" I could almost hear the small s.
"That would be Director Anderson's, yes."
"When did he become a director? Did I miss that memo?"
A long-suffering sigh followed. "What do you want with Technician Thomas, Infirmary?"
"Well, it's personal. Doctor/patient confidentiality, that sort of thing." I was impressed with Jones' swift thinking under pressure.
"All communications have been locked down and diverted to Security for the time being."
"You can't do that."
"Just did it."
"Why?"
