Though it was now just after normal business hours, Becker found the rotation of personnel a little odd. Apparently because these anomalies could occur at any time, the military personnel had commandeered a room as a make-shift barracks, crashing out whenever need and opportunity coincided.
The scientific personnel within the facility had two distinct shifts, day and night, although the core ARC field team consisting of Cutter, Hart, Temple, and Maitland would be called in for any anomaly alert.
It struck Becker as horribly inefficient, and could lead to taking orders from an under-slept, overworked scientist. Why didn't they split up the group?
As he explored more thoroughly, he heard laughter and eager discussion in the hall ahead. Several military officers were joking around. They looked up when he came towards them.
"Gentlemen," he nodded in greeting, including the one female officer in that generic hello. Then he realized one person was not military. "Mr. Hart, am I correct?"
Stephen Hart gave him a half a smile. "That's right. You are–?"
"Captain Becker. I've been posted here and assigned to field team security." Becker offered his hand, and was inwardly pleased by the firm and straightforward shake Hart gave it.
Hart smirked. "They tell you what you're up against?"
"Dinosaurs." Becker answered mildly.
"Right." Hart turned to the rest. "I expect payment in full tomorrow, you sorry sods. That's what you get for doubting me!"
Jeers and groans were aimed at Hart as the others dispersed.
"What was that about?" Becker asked.
"Just winning an office pool," Hart answered breezily.
"Hm. Which one?"
Hart grinned. "Good man." He waved for Becker to accompany him back to the central hub of the facility. "We bet on all sorts of things here."
"Yes, I've already been invited to lay money on one."
"Which one? Next injured? Next era? Or when Connor and Abby finally shag?"
"That's the one."
Hart snickered. "That pool's pretty large now. Every day, another disappointed bettor."
"Who holds the books?"
"Lacey," Stephen said with a thumb over his shoulder. Becker presumed that was the name of the female officer. Once in the hub, Stephen turned to look at Becker properly. "So, I assume you've gotten the fifty pence tour?"
"Yes."
"Reviewed the personnel files?"
"Yes."
"Seen the reports?"
"Yes."
"What's your first name?"
"Nice try." Becker loosened up enough to smile at Hart's transparent attempt.
"Hm. New pool: How long before you crack?"
"I'd put money down on 'never'."
Hart winked. "I'm betting less than thirty-six hours before Connor hacks into your personnel file and tells everyone."
Becker frowned. "He wouldn't, would he?"
Hart's grin stretched from ear to ear. "Wanna bet?"
Hart showed him the most interesting thing in the whole ARC – an honest to goodness primeval creature. The scutosaurus was awaiting transfer to a holding facility with a proper habitat. Apparently Lester had made an arrangement with a private zoo that was about to fold. In exchange for rather large amounts of funding, the zoo closed off several major areas on its property, telling their visitors it was for quarantine and veterinary purposes, but actually preparing several decently sized habitats for creatures stranded in the modern era.
"No predators, of course. They can't be handled," Stephen explained. "But most of the herbivores we've encountered have proven no more difficult than the elephants in reserves, and some even more cooperative than that. The Columbian Mammoth has particularly taken to human partnership."
"I'm sorry, did you say, Mammoth?" Becker asked faintly.
"Oh yeah. Before we moved it, Abby had it trained to respond to all the standard elephant handling commands. The handler at the zoo says he's a dream to work with." Stephen grinned. "And of course, Lester goes out to visit once a week."
"What?" Now Hart was pulling his leg.
"I'm serious. That mammoth saved his life, and Lester is nothing if not dedicated to his obligations."
Becker shot Hart a sidelong look, but the man didn't show any sign of joking as he merely tossed the giant turtle creature another head of lettuce.
Hart left eventually. Becker returned to reading reports of previous incidents with prehistoric creatures. He hadn't really been prepared to fully believe what he'd been told upon his posting or by Lester, but casually petting a monstrous beast from the pages of a child's dinosaur picture book pretty much convinced him.
Since he also didn't have a local apartment yet, he eventually claimed a cot in the makeshift barracks. The ARC facility was nothing if not well appointed – barracks, armory, gym, shooting range, showers and lockers, several kitchenettes, laboratories for every necessary specialty, a disposal-grade incinerator, a huge bank of servers, and cable television.
He was roughly awoken by a blaring alarm. Fortunately, he'd been trained to come awake immediately, and so he hurried to the central hub.
A technician soon had the alert silenced as the enormous Anomaly Detection Device zeroed in on the anomaly location.
"Oh, bugger," the woman muttered. "It's the British Museum!"
The night shift personnel exchanged glances.
"What's the normal protocol for night anomalies?" Becker asked, his commanding voice cutting across their worried mutters.
"Alert the core team to assemble at the site."
"Do it," Becker ordered, and the shift supervisor started calling out assignments. He turned to see several of the SF men nearby. "Let's suit up," he told them. If the ARC team was heading out to an anomaly, he would be there, locked and loaded.
to be continued