#megestcnis

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Cargo ship at dock, late evening ...

One of the mooring lines had come loose ahead of time. It happened that way now and again, when the drift of the cargo ship had been strong enough and at the right angles to work the dockside loop free. Nobody aboard was much bothered, since it wasn’t discovered until after dark, and just before they were due to cast-off anyway. Instead, they just left one of the new (ie, low-ranking) crewmen to turn the winch and reel the thing in.

Which was maybe more difficult than it should have been, he thought, throwing all his strength into making the wheel turn. The rope seemed awfully damn heavy - but then it might have been in the water a while, perhaps that was why? It was certainly dripping all over the aft deck along the way.

He consoled himself with that idea, along with the one that maybe his cheap-ass bosses could cough up the money for an automatic winch - at least until the last bit of the line came to a sudden stop. Jammed? Caught on something? He yanked the winch a couple of times in vague hope, then heaved a sigh and went to look over the side to see what was holding it up.

There was something on the rope. The crewman frowned leaned further, to get a closer look.

              MOST INTELLIGENCE DIRECTORS SENT THEIR OPERATIVES back to a trainings base once a year or whenever there was need for it.  The base is frequently referred to as School, where they would receive a refreshers training on  every  skill they should possess to operate on active missions.  Operatives were always placed in teams consisting of colleagues they could work with in the field, so as to enhance their teamwork in the process.  Different teams from the agency would make use of it, and, in Hattie’s experience, the ones in charge argued that  more  rivalry would make for  better  outcomes.   The MI6 agent often saw faces she recognised, as did others, no doubt, but was caught by surprise by one familiar face in particular,  one she had not counted on being there        that of her  brother.   If the bosses wanted  rivalry,  they bloody had one this time around.

“I know what you told me. The trouble is, Sergeant, I don’t believe you.” Bobbi had dealt with stubborn soldiers throughout this whole war. Bill Guarnere wasn’t giving her anything she hadn’t heard a thousand times before. She continued her work on him, letting him say his peace, making sure he wasn’t about to bleed out on her which seemed unlikely, thank God. His internal injuries, however, were a little more worrying. He’d have to be closely monitored. “Bill. The sooner you let me help you, the sooner I can go help your men,” the blonde replied, giving him a small smile once he’d settled down. “Sound fair?”

[Continued from here.]

@megestcnis:

“I’m glad you finally admit that, Davidson.” Brock smirked.”But come on, don’t think I’m trustworthy? That hurts just a little bit.”

“Oh, no, no. No. You don’t get to complain about me not trusting you as far as I can throw you,” Amelia began, pointing at him, trying to ignore the burning blush she could feel on her cheeks at him teasing her.