Better Trashcans
Better Trashcans
Summary: Rhea, Snatch, and Leandros go spacewalkin' to fix the Genesis' hull with Raider metal.
Date: 102 ACH
Related Logs: None
Players:
Rhea..Snatch..Leandros..

TP Room One, AKA Battlestar Genesis' Hull

Materials are prepared and a team of engineers has been readied for the minor repair job on the outer hull. They're assembled in an airlock, EVA suits on, safety harnesses in place, and final checks are being made before the doors open and they head out into open space. "Check your oxygen levels and make sure your suits are secure, snipes," Rhea orders. She's checking her own, to set a good example. "This should be quick and easy. Let's keep it that way."

Snatch looks to have had a ghostly pallow painted over her features. Most of her EVA work has been in vented areas of the ship, patching from the inside. Now she's about to go outside and she's got a severe case of DO NOT WANT setting in, her stomach turning somersaults as she goes through the checks one more time. A seventh time won't hurt. Maybe if she looks often enough she'll find something wrong and have to stay behind.

Leandros is checking his suit in the easy, focused way of someone who's done this a billion times. Every buckle, airtight seal, zip, snap, crackle, and pop is secured, and final check is on his air line and helmet. "Aye sir." The machine shop has been active, taking melted Raider metal and fashioning it into the proper patch elements with their welding tools and molds. It's all ready to go, labelled meticulously.

Rhea goes through her check with little fuss or show of nerves. If anything, there's an eagerness about the ChEng. She likes to look for opportunities to flee the bureaucracy of administration, and this is about as hands-on as one can get. "Every prepped?" It's barked in a tone that suggests they'd better be, the inflection even coming through the wireless units in their helmets. A look is turned to Snatch. She offers the petty officer a faint smile. "Del Boccyo, you'll be in charge of monitoring our electrical line while we're out there. See that we've got a steady supply of power." Once she's confident the snipes have their hatches battered down, she signals to the tech on the other side of the airlock to start the countdown. Ten clicks to open space. Nine…eight…

Snatch manages a sweat-laden nod, and wrinkles her nose, which, of course, itches. But then the Cap'm gives her her chores, and she trudges a few steps to pick up the gague and interface, strapping it over her shoulder in a slow motion, giving a weak 'ou-ais, cap'm' before the countdown has her heartbeat racing.

Leandros raises an eyebrow at the barking tone, though he resists any roll of eyes. "Aye sir, ready." He turns on the small video camera attached to his helmet, that will relay their location feed back to main engineering. A small green light turns on at the seal around his neck. His head turns a little bit and his eyes flicker over the younger enlisted at his side. No smile, but he does comment quietly, "It's always the nose, ain't it."

…Three…two…one. And the doors open, slowly but surely exposing them all to the empty vacuum of space. They certainly better have checked those harnesses. "Let's push off," Rhea says. And out she goes, sliding out opening and onto the outer hull. Like a techy bug on the skin of the Genesis. They were loosed fairly close to the damaged area, so it doesn't take her long to reach it.

Snatch looks toward Leandros, but suddenly can't breathe when she sees the doors open and let the cold in. It takes her body a few long moments to be convinced of the fact that she does actually have air to breathe, and after she finally gasps in some air she turns her attention to the display on her shoulder, looking at that rather than outer space. Keeping Leandros in her peripheral vision, she's prepared to follow him, reporting green on the power flow over the communications.

"You're good, P.O.," Leandros remarks quietly as the doors open up. "Little red spot on the back of my right shoulder harness. Keep an eye on that." He starts moving, sluglike as it becomes as their boots latch onto the hull and suck there, the sound of air rushing filling his helmet. He follows Rhea while space looms up at their side, endless blackness and stars in every direction but down.

Rhea tools up once she's steadied over the job site, setting a sheen of former Cylon metal against the hull and getting ready to weld. "Keep us up to date on those electrical readings, Del Boccyo," she says to Snatch over the comm. Tone all business, but can't hurt to give the PO some chores to busy herself at while they're spacing. As Leandros positions himself she adds to him, "That was a good notion, melting down the raider metal. This stuff's even better for fabrication than some of our stock, in some ways."

Snatch hmm-mms uncertainly as she's deemed 'good,' but she locks her eyes on that red dot as if it were her sole salvation, "O.K. Chief," she manages, shifting the strap slowly so that she can watch the readings, only looking up to the dot when she takes a slow-trudging step. "We'ns green, Cap'm, we'ns runnin' forty-forty-plus-odd fer weldin'," she reports briskly and with a minimum of drawling.

"Ain't it," Leandros comments back to Rhea. He grabs the other side of the plate she's got, helping nudge it along. Looking quickly at the etched numbers near the bottom he twists his neck a little to activate the microphone inside his helmet. "Starboard hull, piece JX42A in place. Holding lock, beginning weld." Turning around in his marshmellow suit he grabs up the welding tool and crouches carefully at the edge of the rectagular sheet of dark metal. "Half curious if they can cut through their own metal as good as they burn ours."

<Trait Roll> Leandros rolls Mechanics and achieves a degree of Good (4).
<Trait Roll> Rhea rolls Mechanics and achieves a degree of Great (5).

"We know their metal fabrication processes differ from ours. Slicker. The layering they use is what gives them thicker skin," Rhea says. "We're researching better ways to poke through it. Or adapt something similar for ourselves. We're still playing catch-up in a lot of ways. The Cylons have evolved. I suppose it makes sense. Who knows better how to build machinery than a machine…?" She trails off as she gets to the real work, welding alongside Leandros. A smile comes to her face as she digs into the job. The ChEng knows her work. And she does enjoy clanking.

<Trait Roll> Snatch rolls Electronics and achieves a degree of Good (4).

Snatch keeps her eyes on the readouts. Then the dot. Then the readouts. She's listening out for anything that seems to be aimed at her, but her spare thoughts are for numbers, dots, and not for the Twin Gods' sakes looking the frak up. "Forty-forty-plus-eight," she reports. Time passes, "Forty-forty-two-plus-odd." She keeps going on about like that.

"They sure built a better trashcan, sir." Leandros' welder sparks gently and then glows. The colour is different out here in space in the absence of the usual gases, a strange sight for those not used to it. "If I was a Marine I'd be all over this. Cut out a couple sheets, test 'em against bullets and heat. If it stood up, throw a thin lining of this into their vests. Not that we got a whole lot, but never know when we'll get our hands on more." FZZ FZZ goes the welder. He moves as he talks, making his way around the edge of the huge panel. He's listening to Snatch's continued readings as they come, and as he reaches a corner he says, "P.O., run me a burst over here, please."

"We got a bit more…" Rhea says simply, as to raider metal. She leaves it at that. "I'll make a point to slot some of it for further testing, when we're through with it." She nods over her shoulder to Snatch and gives a quick, "Good-good, PO" into her comm. Then she falls quiet. Intent on her welding. A smile remains of her face as she watches the welding torch. As if she sees a certain beauty in it.

"Ou-ais, Chief, runnin' t' forty-eighty-plus-thirty-and, on your line," Snatch replies, moving a hand as steadily as possible to the interface and entering the commands, "Run forty-eighty confirm on my mark," she adds, waiting for it to gear up to the new speed. "Mark," she notes, so he knows he can go about his business.

"Thanks." Leandros calls to Snatch, and continues working. Piece after piece of metal until the job's done, following Rhea's lead…

The work rolls on without too much trouble. It's a simple job, and the hands on it know their business well enough. After a couple more hours in space all the welding is complete, and Rhea comms in for the tech to open the airlock doors again. Time to come to go back in the barn.

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