| It Rolls Downhill |
| Summary: | The Chief chews out some of the deck gang - the deck gang is not amused. |
| Date: | PHD 258 |
| Related Logs: | Related Logs (Say None if there aren't any; don't leave blank) |
| Players: |
 .. .. .. .. |
Viper-114 is currently being stripped down just like the Kharon ships were, Dane is working by himself and he has been at it now for roughly six hours stripping her down. Panels have been removed, the engine has been pulled and put on a block, and virtually every part of this ship that can be pulled has been pulled, currently the PO's feet can be seen hanging out of the cockpit of the ship as he is sitting upside down as there is a rough grunt and the sound of machinery being pulled.
Mason exits the tool room, as she often does this time of day. She zips up her coveralls once she's halfway across the deck, fanning herself lightly with a clipboard. "It is much too hot on this deck," comes the blonde's comment. With her hair cropped as closely as it is, you'd think she wouldn't overheat. And yet. "I think I have dripped two pounds of sweat." She reaches up to wipe her hand across her forehead, leaving a trace of engine grease across her brow. She doesn't notice or care, one of the two. Probably both. Her eyes find the engine up on blocks fairly quickly. The petite mechanic zeroes in, and turns that way. "Hello, precious."
Currently one of the Mark VII's turbines are out, obviously another inspection called out o the ships in the bay. After all, when there aren't any bogey's in the sky, it seems that the Chief has to keep the gangers busy. Currently, Vicks, is working with a bit of an air gun to clean out a few of the compression coils. A little bit of rust flecks and back comes out. Usual buildup that can come inbetween oil changes-nothing more. "Well, ain't this just fun.." muttered to himself "I'll have the coils ready to attach soon-" the PO calls over to Mason. Quick work, this.
Dane shimeys out from his upside down position as he looks over at Mace and he says teasingly, "Hello yourself, preciouss." In his hand there is a stabilizer in his hands, "Though yeah, I've been in here for a while now too and you'd think they would do something to help us out." He points to a near by cooler, "Did manage to requisition some fruit punch." He points to a large cooler with a plastic spiggot at the bottom and some paper cups. He climbs down the ladder leading to his perch and he looks over at Vicks, "No more markings from Smith?" He asks Vicks curiously and almost half-expectantly.
"Attachments." Mason intones, giving the word its proper emphasis. "My favorite." Her accent lends a certain staccato. She blinks, and looks over to Dane, large eyes emphasized by the curl of dark lashes. "I was discoursing with engine." She informs the other PO1, patting a piece of the metal beast. Maybe the tease was lost somewhere in the translation. "Fruit… punch." She glances over toward the cooler. "If there is any fruit in this jug, I will pleasure Petty Officer Vicks." She snorts softly, then shoves an arm into the engine block, over and under various bits of tubing.
Vicks looks up, and despite the heat, or sweat Vicks seems completely at ease. Goggles propped up on his forehead as he pauses in his work. The nozzle is pointed at Mason, before he's squeezing the trigger to send a jet of air at her direction, before he's shaking his head back towards Dane. "Everything looks Kosher to me." said with a shrug. "No marks or misplaced parts." As for pleasuring or not of himself, the PO seems not to care-or show a look of hope. "Prolly just purple and water put together..Maybe pink or red." yes flavors are described as colours.
Dane gives a charming smile as he says, "Mace, I know, I was just teasing you." He looks at the Engine, "And I haven't touched the Engine yet, I've still been stripping things down so if you want to take care of the engine I'd be ever so happy that you did." He looks over at Vicks, "Sorry, no pleasure for you today." He turns to face Mace again, "This is from a powdered mix. It is a bit weak but it is slightly sugared up water with hints of fruit flavor." He looks back over at Vicks, "And good to know he isn't frakking around anymore." He begins to study the stabilizer in his hand, "Ah, the gyros on this are off, more delicate work."
Mason grunts and waves a hand through the stream of air as it fluffs her coveralls a little. It's harmless, really, so no tools are thrown in retaliation. Yet. There could be come later, when the more-muscular-than-Mace Petty Officer isn't expecting it. "So things go," Mace mutters under her breath, before she pulls off an entire coil of tubing and chucks it over her shoulder. The wiggly, wobbly, dirty mass of rubber is probably going to smack down near Vicks. Mason pulls a wrench out of a tool pouch on her hip, and gets to work loosening bits to take them apart, then lift off. In a matter of moments, the engine is going to look like the Borg got creative with it. "These filters are disgusting." Her fingers rapidly blacken from all of the grease and soot.
"Ever so hopeful Danish. You never know. Monty here might just get thirsty for another kind of juice." The PO2 spouts off before he's setting down the hose and carefully gripping coils, before he's moving over to carry it, by hand, to Mason. "Gimmie a hand, Blondie." grunted out before he will in fact seek to reinstall the compression system. Sadly, the filter or rubbery bit as it were lands where he was standing. "Lemme slide this in and we'll get a new one from th' closet." grunt/groan "Clean the other, for back up." Vicks, ever conservative.
"On a scale from clean to the stuff that you find behind your toliet how disgusting is it?" Dane asks Mason as he looks over at Vicks, "Hopeful, maybe, Vicks, though if you get thirsty for that kind of juice then good luck." He looks down at the gyo in his hand and he pulls out a small thin tool as he starts working on the gyro in the stabilizer and this is difficult work and it needs precise work to clean it up as he works on one of the Hestia Vipers that has been completely stripped down.
"This is unlikely. I drink two things. Two things only." PO Montgomery does not elaborate further on her beverages of choice, though that heavy accent of hers obscures any innuendo that may have been present. There was none, but there could have been. "Move slightly to the left, PO." Mason notes to Vicks, as he steps in to maneuver the compression coils into place against the housing. Her sleeve catches on a protruding bolt, so she turns her arm a little. "Jiggle it — it will never go in this way." Being so short has its advantages. Mason ducks in under Vicks' armpit, and maneuvers between him and the engine block to guide the bottom into place. "Left. The other left. Yes. Yes. Good." The pointy little elbow to the ribs was probably an accident, Vicks, really. "PO Dane, the bolts to the frame were in good condition, yes? None stripped?" She and Vicks are stood by an engine removed from the viper Dane is working on. The engine is up on blocks, completely removed from the air frame. There's a pause from the petite blonde. "I… have never searched behind the toilet. I will use my imagination," she pauses, conjuring up a mental image, "The color is a putrid zombie flesh grey-black, like a young, co-ed Libran cheerleader, of cocoa flesh, from one of the low budget Caprican horror films. The kind you cannot watch without very generous amounts of tequila, and at least one sort of laced, hand rolled cigarettes."
Flowers's boots click on the deck as she makes her way down the center of the hangar bay. The Chief's eyes are fixed on the clipboard in her hand, and there's a fairly sour frown on her face - it looks like someone is about to have an uncomfortable day at best. She stops in front of the viper and looks at the three, pausing for long enough to warrant a dark, dramatic music flair.
"Don't know-never cleaned my toilet." Vicks responds, and one might even be wondering if he is freaking kidding or not. However the PO looks slightly over towards Montgomery as he follows her 'orders' but, still the fellow is working or such. A sniff, and he's moving to reach for something-perhaps something that fell from the Engine that he and the PO1 are currently frakking away with. A glance is given over towards Monty and a shrug. "Huh." Vicks finally speaks up. "Never heard build up spoken about so descriptively. Shit, you shoulda been a writer Blondie."
PO Dane looks over at Mace, "Hey, there is nothing wrong with those good Caprican horror films and drinking tequila and smoking hand rolled cigarettes is part of the experience." He grins as he defends his hime, "Though best to toss them an put new ones in and take the old ones to see if we can scrub them down." He looks back at Mace, "The bolds to the frame were in good condition, all except one which I replaced since it was one bolt." He then tuns to look over at the Chief and if there was a music flair Dane is oblivious to this since he is still working on the gyro portion of the stabalizer, "Chief." He then looks over at Vicks, "Somehow, you not cleaning your toliet doesn't suprise me."
"This is what PO Vicks has suggested. A conservancy of filters." Mace replies to Dane, with a nod to the bit about the bolts. One thing down on the list of checks. "Writing is not good for me. It comes out slanted. I am best with my hands. This is why I am mechanic." She nods to Vicks and points at the engine. "I miss tequila. This brought to mind zombie films from my teenage years. I felt fanciful for a moment. You've missed a spot here. Do you have the bolt?"
Flowers steps over toward the three clustered around the engine, clearly unhappy. "It's a shame," the woman begins, darkly. Her voice is loud enough that they all can hear it. "I thought perhaps my deck crew had matured enough that I didn't have to be in here constantly. Apparently I was wrong. Someone remind me, because apparently I'm losing my mind in my old age," she continues sarcastically, "I ordered full /inspections/ on the Kharon birds, did I not?"
"You've never been in Prison have you?" Vicks asks Dane for a moment before he's moving to snag up filters, and go back to his scrub and blow work, or at least set them on the nearby workspace for the duty to be done. Apparently not waiting for Dane to respond, Judah saunters on off towards the parts closet only to come back not too entirely later with a couple of clean filters in his paws. A slight sniff and he's looking back towards the Engine in question. "Here you go candy ass." a nudge over to Mace, before he's taking time to look over to the incoming Chief. A brow momentarily. Apparently someone looks as if they could give a shit as to what the little outburst is about. Still the PO2 ain't answering. Instead he's looking over to Dane.
Dane looks at Vicks, "What, with this face? Man like me is what they call a pretty boy." He then looks over at Mace, "Well, you do good work with engines." Though he turns and looks at Flowers, "Sir, that has been taken care of, we've finished full inspection on the Kharon birds. I sent Smith along with the full report." He tilts his head, "And judging by your reaction I am guessing you did not get that inspection paper work."
Mace doesn't turn from the engine. She has her arm in there, finger on a delicate connection. She reaches her other hand up for the bolt, then snakes her hand in to secure it. "Gracias," she murmurs over her shoulder to Vicks, also without turning her head to look at the PO. At the Chief's question, she's silent for a moment. Perhaps the woman is considering the tone. She allows Dane to answer, perhaps not catching the nuance of the Chief's irritation. She continues to work, with an ear to the conversation.
Flowers tosses the clipboard on top of the engine, so that it will likely interfere with the work. She hasn't barked the word "attention" yet, but if she's obstructing their work, she clearly demands it. "What I /did/ get, Petty Officer, is a message from the CAG, demanding to know why my deck crew was insulting the Kharon crew and pilots by refurbishing every one of their birds." Her voice is much louder now, on the edge of yelling, and crew in other stalls are looking over in this direction. "I said inspect, not overhaul. So unless you found Foxbat-5-class defects in /every/ viper they sent us, I'm going to require a frakking explanation as to why my senior deck crew felt it necessary to overhaul those birds."
Vicks shrugs ever so slightly over towards Flowers, and with that he is turning back to the work. Which is just a few steps back and away from the action as it is, in full swing. Instead he's back to scrubbing and blowing of the other filters, see what grime he can't get out, but wait-is that a faint smirk on the ex Kharon PO? Why yes, that would be. However if he has any thoughts on it at all he's keeping it to himself.
Dane looks over at Flowers and he puts down the delicate gyro for one of the stabilizers and he turns to look at the Chief, "During inspections we found problems and so we fixed them. It was deemed that some ships needed overhauls and so in two weeks we stripped and pulled everything as we overhauled it In an effort to maintain a deep level of inspection and to keep problems like Foxbat-5 from happening. At no time did I hide my actions nor the actions of those being supervised by me, Chief, I just figured since you hadn't given us any other orders that we were doing exactly what uou wanted." He stands there not at attention but he is certainly giving his attention to the Chief.
Mason frowns faintly as the clipboard clatters across the engine's top, but it doesn't stop her hands working on the underside connection on the housing she's bolting into place. "A full inspection, replacement, rebuilding." Her words are a little halting, as she enjoys longer, more detailed sentences in Standard, which is not her first language. "The work is fin — complete. We now do same with Hestia. Full inspection, yes." She nods to the clipboard. "This engine makes your papers very dirty."
Flowers glares at Mason, replying, "I am a deck chief, my paperwork always has engine grease on it." She then adds, "And you are correct, Petty Officer. The Hestia birds are next. You've insulted the Kharon crew, and you're going to right that insult by performing complete inspections on every bird on this deck, and refurbish the birds that need it." Looking to Dane, she says, "I want my fleet shining and spotless by the end of the month. I want the pilots to be frakking /proud/ to fly these birds. I trust I make myself clear?"
Vicks is snickering softly in the corner as he's working on cleaning. Nope, not about to interrupt the ass chewing going on. A faint look over towards Dane and then back to Mason. A rub of his nose before he's looking back at Flowers. "Yeah, Chief." the other PO speaks up finally. And waggles a greasy and gritty filter back to the woman and then back down as the scrubbing continues to go along.
Dane simply responds with a simple, "Right away, Chief." He says still looking at the Chief, if he is hurt, angry, or otherwise despondant in any way he isn't showing it sense his sense of duty comes before anything else. He then picks up the stabilizer he was working on as he continues his delicate assessments of the stabilizer.
Mason has eyes for the engine housing as her fingers turn the bolt. She winces slightly, pinching the small bolt between dirty fingers. She reaches for a small tool on the pocket of her suit's chest, and then goes back into the engine to tighten the small bolts. The tool is not a standard issue wrench. Someone's been getting whimsical in the machine shop. "Si, verdad." She nods.
"Good. I will be sure to watch your progress far more closely this time," the Chief says, retrieving her clipboard. "Especially once I finish what I'm working on and can spend more time on the deck."
Vicks raises a brow back towards Flowers, and with that the PO2 is just dropping what he is doing-briefly- in order to snake off back towards the Equipment closet. "How's th' combustion system looking Blondie?" and like that whatever has been said is filed away and dismissed. Work as usual.
Dane looks over at Mace and her tool and he smiles a bit, tools don't have to be standard issue to him so long as they get the job done. Though he seems to be finished with the gyro and so he sets about the delicate work of setting it back in the stabilizer. This will need to be of course put back in the housing but still the hardest part of this job is done. He starts to climb up the ladder to the Viper so he can put the stabilizer back in and with that his head disappears inside of the cockpit as feet point up toward the ceiling.
Flowers turns on her heel, point made, and makes her way back to her 'office' on the deck, to deal with the paperwork.
"Is not bad," Mace's reply for Vicks is brief. "A little gummed here and there. We should get some cleaner and drop these parts to soak." She glances over her shoulder as Flowers takes her leave without a word. "Hijo de puta," she shakes her head, and spits out a small epithet, then follows it up with, "Cabrona." There's a tweak to the bolt then she slides her hands back out of the engine, and wipes them on her thighs.
Dane looks over at Mace and he recognizes at least part of what she said and his feet twitch a bit and a small chuckle may or may not be heard coming from inside of the cockpit of Viper 114, "Bottom line, Chief is slacking on the job with whatever special project she has and she gets shit from the CAG and she takes it out on us. What I want to know is what is it she is doing in that office of hers? I mean this is like the second time I've seen the Chief on deck since we brought the Kharon ships over. I mean short of breaking into the office I don't know if we will find out." He continues to work from his upside down position but he says this loud enough so that Vicks and Mace can hear him. As he sits up he turns and looks at them both, "I mean, she knew what we were doing out here?"
Mason, empress of engines, shakes her head again, muttering under her breath in Thracian. "She could be flicking bean with blueberry jam. Is not our business. This does not matter." Mace looks over to regard Dane for a moment, her hands back on the engine block. "The caca rolls down the hill, as you say. The sound of the Chief boots is the sound of it rolling. Is lopsided, you see, this is why it thumps." She pulls off another length of tubing. "Perhaps she is asleep, with wrench up her hiney. Where is Vicks? This is big mess."
Dane steps down from the Viper and he continues marching until he stops in front of Mason and he says, "I still want to know what she is doing…I mean we have to do a job but disappearing for as long as she did and we pulled all of this together." He shrugs his big shoulders, "Though yeah the shit rolls downhill." He looks over at the mess, "What would you like me to help you with, Mace?" Looking at all of the pieces that have been pulled, "This is going to be a big job." He begins looking over at the other Viper and he blows some air from between his teeth.
"The best way to find that out is through camera installation. I do not think questions will get answers in this case. Our chief is not… mm.. tranquil of heart." It takes Mace a while to come up with that phrase in Standard, given how many variations she had in Thracian, none of which were complimentary. "Fuel lines in the viper clear for attachment when the engine has been seated?"
Dane lets out a soft, "Huh?" It is curious all right, "Camera installation?" He can honestly be seen considering this but he shakes his head, "Nah, bad idea." He grimaces slightly as he looks over at the fuel lines, "Sure I'll get right on those for you." As he moves to the fuel lines to clear them and as he works he comments on the the translation from Thracian to Standard, "Not tranquil of heart is a kind way of talking about the Chief." Though this does amuse him.
"Only bad idea if you get caught." Mason murmurs, a smile just touching her lips as she fiddles with the engine, replacing some of the parts she removed earlier, before the clipboard bearing Chief stormed through. "It is wise to resist urges to discuss when there is work. Though she herself cannot hear, lips loose could put you on Head scrub duty." She gets her phrase a little backward, but the sentiment is clear.
"Well, I'd rather not get into scrubbing duty." He looks a bit non-plussed at that idea, "Lost a bet last week and I was washing uniforms…oh the fresh rain scent on the coveralls, that was all me." As he works on the fuel lines he makes sure they are disconnected but still in place so the engine can be put in without any problems, "Though, yeah, we should talk about this later, preferably over some sort of alcohol, strong alcohol." He manages to get both sides disengaged before he gives a thumbs up to Mason regarding the fuel lines, "Still though, I want to know what she is doing in there."
"I am very certain we will find alcohol." Mason smiles a bit more, before the expression fades. She bites her lip in concentration. "You have said this many times. I think she has received fire on her ass from others, and her best way to deal with this is mouth open, hands idle. I worry more for our store of filters." She seats another, and wipes her hands again, then winces slightly. "I will return in moments. I must wash." Droplets of blood pooled with oil slide down her hand, she shakes her head and wraps a shammy around her finger. "Sharp edges on shoddy parts. I do not enjoy lowest bidder constructions." With that, Mace turns to head off toward the stairwell, presumably to medical. She gets a double hit of hand cleaner on the way by, which is going to sting, but will take care of the oil at least.
