Deck Spills - 30 BCH
Deck Spills
Summary: Fender & Chief Taylor have a chat over viper maintenance. A close encounter with the CMO results in a minor spill.
Date: 30 BCH (14 Oct 2008)
Related Logs: None

Genesis, Deck 7, Hangar Bay B, 30 BCH
The hangar deck is where the Genesis' Viper squadron, and its Raptor detachment are stored, repaired and maintained between missions. Ships land on the flight deck, one level above, and are brought down via massive elevators. Tow vehicles move the ships around the deck, their shrill alert beeps causing an almost constant cacophony of noise. The floor itself is a light gray in color, but wear and tear has left marks and scratches everywhere. Numbered sections are marked off with paint to house the various spacecraft.
The place is surprisingly tidy, with tool chests, machine parts, diagnostic equipment, and even the occasional spare engine or chassis scattered all in their appropriate place. Stairs lead up to other parts of the ship. The fourth side has a large sliding door leading to the flight deck elevators. On the port wall, Vipers are loaded into the launch tubes to be catapulted into space. Raptors take off from the flight deck.

The elevators begin their descent as Fender and her temporary wingman, Dash, are lowered from the flight deck above. The massive elevators carry both vipers, undamaged, to the deck proper. It isn't long before the tow vehicles maneuver into position, ready to hook the mark VIIs and ferry them to their assigned areas. From inside the viper, Addie makes a sharp hand gesture to Dash, who is watching. The younger pilot laughs at whatever the LT just conveyed.

The Chief is standing by as the tow vehicles hook up and a deckhand moves to hang a ladder in place. Berk has a metallic clipboard in his hand as he watches the two pilots banter about something, an amused smirk and rise of his brow cross him for a moment before stepping up to move to the ladder. "Evening, Lieutenant. Hopefully you remembered you put up your tray table into the upright and locked position before landing this time, sir?" His deep voice still carries the good humor that the man tries to convey despite his size. An empty hand waits to take her helmet while the other holds out her shutdown checklist o nthe clipboard.

The flight helmet is removed first, seals broken at the neck. Addie swipes a hand back through her hair to shove it out of her eyes before hopping out of her viper to thunder down the ladder. Her feet hit the deck with a thud. She hands off the helmet to the waiting CPO. "Chief." She tips her head slightly. "No dings to hammer out today." There is a ghost of a smile on her lips. "Throttle's a little sticky. Any of the newer greasemonkeys spill any juice lately?" She eyes a particularly young Crewman.

Bearclaws for hands take the helmet and he looks it over for a moment as she speaks. Habit, really. He looks back up as a finger runs along the interior seals absently, feeling for anything out of the ordinary. "Glad to hear it, El-Tee." His own smile lingers nodding to a waiting Deckhand to scurry under the Viper and secure it. "Well I've been checking the seals on their sippee cups over the last week, sir. So far I've only found two or three with high-pressure leaks. But we're talking eighty to ninety p-s-i." He ventures a small chuckle. "O'Connal! Grab Messick. I'd like you two to strip the throttle body on this Viper. Leiutenant says its sticking. Again." His voice booms at a pair a few yards away before looking back to Fender. "Anything else? We've had a couple of mount issues on the dorsal powerplant in these Mark Sevens recently. Any weird vibrations? Flickering on the Master Caution light?"

Addie pulls off her gloves and shoves them in her pocket. She glances back at the viper, briefly, as it's warmed by a couple of jumpsuited techs. As Dash exits his viper, she calls across the deck, "Next time you barrel roll, try to remember to end right side up!" She has a big voice for such a small woman. Her dark eyes flick back to the Chief. She stands just far enough off that she doesn't have to look up his nose to meet his eyes. A thumb is jerked toward the viper. "The throttle is a little gritty, but the rest of the ride is smooth. I didn't notice any weird display glitches or panel lights. 1738's DRADIS flickered last week, but I gave it a little love tap. Unless someone's griped since, should be ok."

The Chief watches Addie look off and follows her gaze to the other pilot. That light smirk hangs at the edges of his mouth and eyes. He'll leave the witty banter to the Officers for now. Once her attention returns to him he nods. "Aye, sir. We'll have it stripped and fixed. Shouldn't be more than a few hours. If you wouldn't mind, we can shoot you up in the same bird tomorrow and see if everything feels kosher again?" He leaves the question to hang for a moment. But his brow rises at the mention of the DRADIS. "Wasn't aware of that," he grumbles. "Thanks for letting me know, though. I'll poke around it post-shift tonight and see if maybe a spider or something decided to roost."

"I couldn't ask for more, Chief." Addie nods in agreement with that. "I'd be happy to give her a test flight in the morning. If you need to put any other birds up, let me know. Testing the birds is preferrable to trying to teach Dash what this side up means." Despite the joke, she does enjoy any excuse to get back in the cockpit, and has been known to volunteer for even the least coveted assignments for more air time. "It's probably just a short. Don't envy you finding it. Then again, I bomb those search a word puzzles."

The man sets his jaw and givers her an appreciative nod. "Well we've got two of the Mark Deuces-" his loving name for his favorite airframes "-down for minor stuff so I can probably pull a crew off them. One's a sub-light powerplant overhaul and will take most of the day tomorrow anyway. O'Connal and Messick are heading off duty in a few anyway. If nothing else, you know my penchant for getting my hands dirty." The man barely fits into a cockpit, its amazing he can get anything done inside a Viper. But he laughs at her mention of finding the short. "Well better to spend time fixing it now then wait until it goes out when you need it..then I'll have to fix even more." He sets her helmet down on the wing. "Oh hey, before I forget, when you see the CAG, can you let her know I need to talk to her? Need to get my gang inspecting your suits. I just haven't been able to catch Wrongway in the past few days."

"Captain is pretty hard to pin down." Addie grins, leaving something unspoken there. Viper jocks and their inside jokes. "I'll pass the word if I run into her first—should see her in the berthing. Good luck shoehorning yourself in there and finding that short. You finish up anytime before call in the morning, there might still be a game going on in the Rec." Ah, Triad. "I have to go hose off before they find something else for me to do. Stay safe up here, Chief."

The man suppresses a chuckle at Wrongway's expense, his head slowly shaking. "Gods, you all are horrible to each other." He glances over the tail of the Viper for a moment before looking back to her. "Yeah, thanks for the invite. Unlikely, though. I've got twenty more sippee cups to check before third shift." He does his best to keep a straight face, even keeping it through a rather steep and severe look of mock exhaustion. "But alright. She'll be up and ready for you in the morning. I'll green-light you with the morning crew and leave the keys in the ignition." He tosses up a lazy salute. "Enjoy your evening, Lieutenant."

"Good luck with those cups, Chief." Addie returns the salute casually, though it's still a sharp gesture. The only casual hint is how fast it drops. "Roger." She grins and turns to head for the stairwell. Woe to any Ensigns she encounters along the way. Too bad she glances back toward the raptor as she approaches the entrance to the stairwell. Cos she doesn't see anyone coming.

The Chief steps away from the Viper Mk VII and kneels next to one of his Crewmen who is working on a refueling line. There's a few whispered words before the large man taps the metal clipboard on the girls knee and he stands. Taylor begins walking the perimeter of the bird, looking it over. Sure Fender said it was okay.. but her frakkin name is /Fender/!

It is not an Ensign on the stairwell, thankfully. On his way up and through the hangar bay for about the hundredth time tonight, Zaharis is unfortunately carrying a cup of coffee, having gone cold and forgotten as it's been carted around with him over the last hour or so. And his attention? On a clipboard instead of where he's going, natch.

Addie turns her attention back to the proper direction just a second too late, a second before she can actually stop her forward momentum. The only warning before the pilot and CMO collide is a gasp from the former. Thank you gods for cold coffee. Fender earns her callsign once again. "Crap."

The big man's only indication that he knows something is up is that booming voice. "Kendall! Mop!" He's actually looking over the Viper and its tough to tell if he's standing on something to do it. He makes his way around the other side and approaches the mess, head shaking.

The thump is audible. Coffee, spilling in slow motion in a wave up over the side of the cup and onto a once-pristine lab coat as Zaharis goes straight into Addie and stumbles back a step. A few droplets fleck across his face, and he raises a hand to give a somewhat dramatic wipe across his cheek. Flick. "White coats. Had to be white."

"Er." Addie's flight suit doesn't show the coffee nearly as well as the lab coat. She doesn't even bother wiping it off. It'll just dribble down onto the floor. Her ensemble is impervious to the liquid. Huzzah for space age clothes. "Sorry about that, Captain. Did not see you there, sir." She steps back and turns so she can see both the Captain and approaching Chief. "Apologies, Chief. Seems the greasers aren't the only ones making a mess on the Deck today." She grins a bit sheepishly.

Taylor reaches into a pocket and removes a rag, offering it between the two. Anyone's guess what's on it, though. "Aye, sir. Ease of clean-up," he asides to the Captain. "Bleach and go." His voice at that octave might be scolding but for the look on his face - which is apologetic. "Nothing wrong on my end, Leiutenant. Had a Specialist dump a gallon of hydraulic fluid this morning. Mess is nothing new."

Zaharis tips the cup towards his face, raising an eyebrow at what's left as though asking himself if it's worth it. Apparently so, as he raises the mug and downs the last swallow of cold liquid, with a mild grimace. "Oh it's alright. I can't, though, guarantee those on laundry duty won't mysteriously learn your name, Lieutenant…" He pauses, with that expectation of being given said name. To Taylor he takes the rag with a slight grin. "You're certain it wasn't a gallon of coffee? They don't smell very different."

Addie nods to the Chief, then her gaze flicks to the Doc. She can't help but twitch a little grin at the mention of laundry folk. "You say Fender, they'll just be thankful it's not engine grease or something worse. Lieutenant Nikos won't even raise an eyebrow, sir." She clears her throat. "You'd be seeing me in the next few days. I'm due for a physical." Timing is everything. "I'm getting the cold instruments, aren't I?"

The Chief chuckles. "Aye, sir. I'm not sure how you take your coffee but the hydraul fluid on the Raptors smells like cherrys and burnt plastic. I'm hopeful that they smell enough different do keep you from having to test yourself." He smirks and moves back. "Captain, just toss that rag on this wagon here when you finish." He motions ot the yellow roller-crate a few feet away as a Crewman rolls in a mop bucket and the Chief moves to assist in that, the most delicate of maneuvers: coffee cleanup.

"Fender?" Zaharis tilts his chin up, glancing over Addie. "As in bender? Callsigns don't lie, do they." The cup gets handed off to someone passing with a box, dropped into said box without a care to what it may actually contain. "Oh, the pilots are due for physicals, aren't they. It won't be too bad. But word of advice, don't piss off the dentist." He nods Taylor. "Thanks, Chief. There's an 'I like my coffee like I like my…' statement in there somewhere, but I don't think I have the strength."

Addie just grins as Z makes the connection to her callsign. "Pilots pay attention." She gives a little salute. "I was just off to the shower. I owe you a cuppa sometime, sir. Thanks for the advice." She nods again to the deck chief. "Chief. Great mop form." Her tone is relatively deadpan, but the words have to be a tease. She turns to shuffle off before somebody takes the good shower stall—the one that stays shut when you're in it.

The Chief just snickers a bit at the Captain's delivery of his 'women' statement. He won't go there. Not with the mention of burned plastic. "Yes, sir," he manages, not even seeing the drop of the mug as he moves at the spill. When Addie moves off with her comment, Taylor glances up. "Uh huh, sir. I saw that ding on the starboard tricycle." All i ngood fun.

"I'll remember that." Zaharis tells Addie, though exactly what part of her speech he's referring to, who knows? He looks back at Taylor, then around the hangar bay. "I came up here for something…" His voice trails a bit as it becomes obvious he's completely forgotten what that may have been. "Damn it. Never mind." A nod to Taylor and he starts back down the stairs.

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