In the morning, blinking, bemused and still a little incredulous, Ianto, Owen and Tosh arrived at Cardiff Airport straight from the Hub in a couple of taxis. They were dropped at one of the smaller aviation sheds off the main access road. The modern fibrous plastic shell contained nothing more than a very disorganised office and several broken bits of regrettably human low-technology. Bruce appeared to have been there well in advance and, barely acknowledging their presence, directed a nominally civilian baggage handler to pile their luggage without grace into a tall Post Office cage.
"Are you mailing us to Tibet?" quipped Owen. He was still unsure about this character from within their own organization. He didn't smell right; metaphorically speaking.
"We'll use Her Majesty's postal services to carry some of our kit to Cyprus. It's the most efficient system until we get there on the U*N*I*T plane."
"U*N*I*T?" queried Ianto, raising an eyebrow. "Now we're moving in high circles."
"Where is Constable Cooper?" Bruce stopped his minor notetaking to look them in the eye. "I understood this was to be a team effort."
"Yes it is." Tosh attempted a very weak smile. "Gwen is just saying goodbye to Rhys."
Owen and Ianto looked at each other knowingly. "I hope it's just a quick goodbye," smirked Ianto.
Bruce's eyebrows raised slightly. "Rhys?" It seemed he was unaware of the name. Owen noted this minor lapse for possible future use, although it seemed unlikely it would be a 'killer' fact (so to speak).
"Here's Gwen," shouted Tosh. "Time to go."
The flight to Cyprus was only a few hours, but the Air Force aircraft was not built for style, so the food was basic and the entertainment minimal. They spent most of the time trying to get comfy, either seated or lying down, or scanning thru documents for discussion, but, apart from his original curt presentation, Bruce did not appear to have any further information and refused to sync his notebook computer with Tosh's. It was a much less exciting trip than most of them had thought.
At Larnaca, they waited on the tarmac, wondering what to do next. Bruce explained there would be a short delay while he went to be investigate what was happening. Tosh and Gwen fished their shades out of their hand luggage. Owen and Ianto were left to squint wistfully into the distance.
Ianto ogled the warm surface of the Mediterranean in the distance, the surface choppy, but sparkling. "We could go windsurfing," suggested Ianto, enviously absorbing the warm and comforting atmosphere while he could.
"You first," replied Owen. He was facing the other way and could see the rather more sober mountains of the island interior. These did not fill him with a desire to climb and he was disappointed to feel no desire to return here. Possibly if Jack were standing at the top in person, waving a giant flag saying "Torchwood Here!" he might be persuaded to make the trek, but these were mere hiccups compared to the Himalayas. And no Jack; no flag. Best not to think about it just now.
With much less drama, Bruce was waving at them from the low glass-fronted building. They took a few minutes to realize that he was beckoning them all over. They trailed slowly over the tarmac chatting lazily.
"What's up, Brucie?" asked Owen. Bruce was chatting curtly to a U*N*I*T NCO. She saluted formally and left in a hurry.
"There's no other way to put it. But there's been a bit of a bureaucratic… error," Bruce replied sulkily.
"Did they spell your name wrong?" suggested Owen, with a slightly cheeky flare of his nostrils. The other three had barely filled the doorway, and it looked doubtful if they would actually enter the building. Indeed Gwen thought twice and curled round the doorway to the side by a cola machine, flipping open her cellphone, looking for a signal. Nothing.
"All the technical baggage has missed the plane," Bruce explained inside. He lowered his voice to emphasize his next euphemism. "The highly technical equipment," he enunciated. It was an unnecessary contrivance given their highly sensitive location.
Suddenly, Owen got the plot. "What? The sensors? The detection equipment?" He began to feel angry. "What happened? Where is it?"
Bruce straightened up, emphasizing this was not his error. "It's back in the UK," he remarked quietly, a scowl hiding in his forehead.
"No big deal," said Ianto. "We'll just hang around here until it turns up." He smiled encouragingly to Owen. "We could find a nice beach somewhere."
"That's really out of the question," said Bruce. "Our transport onto Nepal is booked for this evening. That's the flight I arranged. We either go then or paddle on the sand and head home tomorrow."
"I think we already decided to come," replied Ianto. "We can make-do with what they have here. Our Torchwood credentials must mean something."
Tosh frowned along with the other two. Then she lifted her sunglasses from her nose and smiled encouragingly. "I've still got my laptop. That'll do for a start."
"Yeah," said Owen sarcastically. "And Ianto will have a word with some of the chaps here. See if we can rustle up a lasergun or two."
"Well, yes," agreed Ianto. "That's not as difficult as you might think. Always a few weapons lying around this sort of place. But, steady on though. Your actual laserguns might be a little hard to wangle."
Bruce shook his head. "U*N*I*T are not just going to give out a box of assault rifles to tourists. By all means try to get some equipment here, but I have some contacts in Nepal that I was going to speak to anyway. We have a better chance of re-equipping there. You might be better off finding something decent to eat. I can't guarantee the quality of our rations for the next week or so."
They let Bruce leave without further questioning. Gwen took his place in the cabin.
"The reception is rubbish here," she said.
"That's not the only thing that we're missing here," said Owen.