Well met

HMAT Tyche – Upper Deck, Gangway – 15 September 1946 – 1015 hours

The Tyche was already groaning at the seams with its cargo of humanity when the last stragglers came aboard. Buck Norvegicus leaned casually against the forward bulkhead, smoking a tailor-made and watching the gangway with half-lidded eyes.

Three men crossed the plank — sharp suits, sharper cheekbones. Buck took note.

The first was muscular and hard around the edges. Something about the way he walked — stiff-backed, chin up — screamed ‘army’, but not the friendly kind. German, by the look of him. Real Aryan poster-boy material. The second was leaner, younger, twitchy. Moved like he expected a fist between the shoulder blades at any moment. His blonde hair was combed within an inch of its life, but nerves leaked out at the seams. Buck pegged him for the weak link straight off. The third was nondescript enough to be dangerous — a man who’d learned to blend in by not existing at all.

He tapped ash over the rail and watched as they showed their papers — all neat and proper. European accents - from Italy they said. The Australian security officer barely blinked before waving them aboard.

Buck muttered under his breath, “Wouldn’t trust ’em to post a bloody letter,” and ground the cigarette out under his boot.

As he turned, he caught sight of Mary Protandry further down the deck, standing near the rail, notebook clutched again tight to her side. Her body was stiff, jaw set. She looked… nervous, like a cat in the doghouse.

One of the three men spared her a glance - the perfect blue eyed blonde haired one. Too casual, but Buck felt the predatory intent. Some sixth sense that had kept him alive from Tobruk to Kokoda. Trouble.

He wandered closer, casual-like, hands deep in his pockets. Stopped just near Mary, not crowding, just giving her an out if she wanted to talk.

“You alright, Doc?” he asked, keeping it light. “Don’t tell me you’re seasick already. We’re not even underway.”

Mary gave him a brittle little smile. “I’m fine. Just… getting my sea legs.”

Buck nodded, played along. “Fair enough. You need anything, you holler. We gotta look out for our Melbourne mob, eh?”

She nodded once, tight. Buck didn’t press. Wouldn’t do any good. Sometimes people had to fight their own battles. Still, as he strolled away, he glanced over his shoulder, just once, and decided to keep a closer eye on things.