2236-11-11 - Tech on Deck

Isolde is helping the deck crew out when Van gets back from a training flight, Neimec comes to inspect her Raptor, and Durant arrives on ship.

Date: 2236-11-11

Location: Hanger Deck, Deck 6, Battlestar //Galactica//

Related Scenes: None

Plot: None

Scene Number: 871

Jump to End

"Tykes, you're lookin' awful feminine today," a deck mechanic chortles as Isolde Asa comes striding past, dragging a fueling hose behind her to a neat line of Vipers. The Tauran woman does what is expected of her, and offers a monotonous, "Ha, ha, ha. You're so witty, and funny, and clever, Parks... like, whoa." She flashes the fellow deck mechanic a wry look. Having picked up Tykes shifts after the boxing match in the gym last night, Isolde has been working the deck for the last few hours in those bright orange coveralls. Her hair has been woven back and pinned into a crown of braids, and her ear protection rests around her neck. She presses a hand into her low back once the fuel starts, stretching her aching muscles as she does.

There the Wolfpack's birds sit. Vipers and Raptors alike. More of the former than the latter, but a particular petite brunette cares not for the zippy things. She's circling one of the Raptors with it's shiny, un-scratched paint job. Niemec is in her flightsuit, even. Callsign of 'Squeak' labeled just below her name on the breast. The suit hides most of her tattoos; the collar even largely blocking off those on her neck. Gloves tucked into a pocket, one can still see those on her right hand. She's by the tail of the ship now, studying the gun mounted there.

A Viper comes down the elevator from the flight deck above, the canopy being pushed back and a helmeted head pops out, "Deck! Controls are loose on this bird!" Van pushes himself out of the seat of the cockpit as the ship is tractored to its normal resting spot, one hand resting on the edge of the cockpit to brace against the motion. "Feels like I'm sailing, not flying. Might be software parameter leak, but it could be physical, and I am not qualified for that." The last is spoken with a grin as the Picon pilot unlocks his helmet and hauls it off.

"You pilots like doing that," Isolde says as she finishes her final back stretch, looking at Niemec. "Walk around a ship, carefully eyeing it from every angle, like you're checking to make sure that nothing is out of place." She is about to say more until someone is shouting, and she turns toward Van with a dry reply of, "Well, if you are such a problem-solver, why don't you check the software side and then let me know, sir?" Her mouth twitches a bit with the hints of an amused smile before she takes out her tablet and diagnostic cables from her gear.

"That's part of it," Niemec offers, glancing over to Isolde. There's a brief upward twitch of her mouth. A hint of a smile. "Especially the ones I'm used to. Half the time shit's held together with tape, wipe, and a prayer to Apollo." The woman lifts a hand to pat at the gun's barrel before moving to duck around one of the low-slung wings. "Here, well, I'm just marveling. Never had one so new before." Tucking hands into pockets, she looks up to Van as the lift lowers. There's a bit of a snort. "You'd think a Picon would be glad to sail," she offers as an aside to the technician.

Van sets his helmet down in the seat behind him, and as a ladder is rolled up to the side of his Viper, he hops easily out onto it, gathering up his helmet and handing it down to the deck crewman. Isolde's voice causes him to blink and turn around to look, "You're everywhere, aren't you, Asa?" He hooks one arm around the rail of the ladder and snaps a jaunty salute to Niemec, "Captain Squeak." And then he looks down to the techie again, holding a hand down for the tablet and cable, "Sure, I can check into it. I think it's physical though."

"Oh, don't worry... we'll have these girls and boys all taped up and looking like they are about to fall apart in a few weeks." Isolde flashes a broad smile to Niemec, but then her attention flits back to Van with a snort. "You hear that, Peep... you should be happy to sail." Though she then sets her hand onto her cocked out hip, and she beams. "Yes, I am... I am everywhere... just wait until I start picking ECO shifts." Which she can't because she's just an enlisted. "Then you'll never be rid of me." She hands him the tablet and cables freely, not going to argue with him wanting to be a nerd.

"You can leave mine out of that plan," Niemec offers with a good-natured scoff. She rounds her shoulders a bit, looking to Van. She lifts her chin a bit in acknowledgement of the salute. "We're indoors, Newton. No need for that." There is, however, a look towards Isolde. "Don't take it the wrong way, but I can't say I'd be too excited to see you at the station. We pilots become quite fond of our bears." Not that she's chosen or been assigned an ECO yet.

Van takes the tech-gear, swarming back up the ladder to stick his head under the controls and plug in. His arm is hooked through the ladder rail again, and he starts to swipe through the tablet's interface. "I am happy to sail, just not in a Viper. I mean, it was even worse than a wallowing Raptor." The last words are accompanied by the flash of a smile across to the other pilot, although it fades away again. "And I'll believe it when I see it, Asa." There's a pause as her words slip through the lines of code that he's swimming through and he blinks, "Peep?" Looking over to Niemec, he shakes his head, "Squeak and Peep? No, I'm afraid it won't do." Plus, of course, his flightsuit already says 'Milkman.' He nods to Niemec at her mention of not wanting to see Isolde as an ECO, "Most Raptor jocks like to see an experienced backseater flying with them. No one wants to have to break in a nugget. Given your skill with computers though, I'm sure you could pick it up if you put in the time."

"Perfect Picon... Peep," Isolde explains, but he's already dismissed her new nickname for him -- not that, that matters. She stretches her shoulders slightly at the words. "I was mostly joking... I already am looking after the computer systems and working here when someone decides to challenge a semi-pro boxer to a ring fight and ends up on concussion watch." There's a true story there. She then starts to look over Van's Viper, going through the preliminary check-in procedures. "I'm quite content where I am, thank you." Which means, somewhere, somehow, someone is going to upset that comfort zone.

Pulling hands from her pocket, Niemec laces her fingers behind her head; elbows winging outward. "We're also not so fond of being called jocks. That's reserved for you crazy Viper frakkers. We're the calm older sibling. Always responsible." No, she can't keep a straight face as she speaks. "Backseating isn't just about the systems, either. Something happens to me, need to know they can take the controls. A rough landing is better than a crash landing. Especially if I have injured onboard." There's a shift of dark eyes to Isolde and she drops her hands, shrugging. "No offense. I wouldn't begin to mess with what you do. I can handle all the stations in a Raptor, but that's the extent of it. In the one programming course I took in Academy, I bricked the drive."

"Oh, I got it, Asa." And then Van stops at her description of why she's working on the deck, looking confused, "A boxing match? On a battlestar? Like, to knockout?" Shaking that off, he looks back down to the tablet, "Sorry, all of the pilots were 'jocks' in the Picon Navy. I didn't know that Tauron Raptor pilots felt differently about it." Scanning the tablet again, he shakes his head slowly, "No, the parameters seem to be set properly. Sorry, Asa, looks like the deck crew gets to crack into the tail."

"Of course you got it," Isolde says, tone lofty, "You're Perfect Picon." She flashes a quick smile up to Van, aand then shrugs a shoulder slightly at the the jock talk, and she starts to laugh slightly. "Divided by colonies? Nah... we're divided on which ships we are loyal to." She offers a smile to the pair and then she looks over to Niemec. "Oh, that's not really that uncommon." She might just be being nice. At the news of having to crack the tail, the techy starts to snort. "Of course." She looks over to Niemec, adding dryly. "I like Raptors better." Thems be fighting words.

"Know how I know he's from Picon? Apologizes when he doesn't need to." Another aside to Isolde. Women gotta stick together, right? Or at least when one can tease a jig. Niemec does start to shift back towards her Raptor, but flashes a smile over her shoulder to Isolde. "Of course. They've got the fancier equipment. When one of these girls gets a full sensor load out? Man oh man."

"Yes, but you repeated yourself," Van notes back to Isolde, "'Perfect' was unnecessary once you said 'Picon.'" He leans into the Viper to reel the cord back up around the tablet, finally descending all the way from the ladder and handing it over to her. "People keep forgetting, I flew Raptors for nearly a year before I transferred to Vipers. I'm not taking sides." Unless you consider that he did by transferring to Vipers. Scoffing at Niemec, he shakes his head, "Sorry, but I'm not sorry for being polite. And I'm pretty sure that Asa likes Raptors more because you haven't managed to break any of them, and I've already found a fault in my Viper."

Isolde starts to laugh brightly at Niemec's cultural jab at Van. She shakes her head at Van, taking the tablet with a sharp, but playful motion. "You took sides the moment you transferred to Vipers." She then nods agreeably to the reasons why she likes Niemec (Raptors) over Van (Vipers). "Yes, but I might just hand off that problem to one of the actual deck monkeys. I'm just here because there was a need... and I've got skills." She looks to Niemec. "I've actually seen Van be pretty rude... he stole someone's sliders once."

"But not skills in the ring, mm?" Niemec can tease all around, if she wants. But it's Van's comeback that gets a sudden laugh. "You apologized for not apologizing... for apologizing. Frak me that's amazing. I had to remember that one." Back by the Raptor, she hops up onto the wing to stalk to the hatch and open it. Apparently, her review thus far has just been of the craft's exterior.

Van finally cracks a faint smile at the interplay about apologizing, faux stumbling forward as Isolde yanks the tablet back. "Of course. I'm polite. I have to be amusing too, or I would be a boring prig." Isolde's commentary on sliders, however, wipes the smile from his face... mostly. One corner of his lips quiver as he mock scowls at her, pointing, "You left them in the cab. It's not my fault that I made sure they didn't go to waste."

"My daddy always taught me that you don't fight in a ring," Isolde replies, tone serious but eyes still laughing. "You fight bare-knuckled on a street, and there ain't no such thing as stopping at the ring of a bell." She then shakes her head, looking amused at that one small memory of her father. She watches Niemec scout the Raptor, head tilted slightly to watch the pilot ritual. At Van's objection, she shakes her head. "I'm not letting that go, sir... you might as well just accept it." Then she goes back to checking over Van's viper, and taps on her tablet to put in the request for maintenance.

"Might wanna find time for a trip down to Scorpia to buy her some more, Newton. Else you won't hear the end of it." Niemec's voice bounces oddly with the acoustics from the inside of the Raptor itself and out to the flight deck. From racks to straps she moves. Not even making her way to the consoles yet.

Van nods over to Niemec's inspection, "We all do that. It's not a lack of trust, I assure you. It's simply knowing that if the ship and a flight suit are going to be the only things between you and vacuum, you want to check it yourself." He reaches up to unclasp the hard metal collar of his flight suit then, rolling his neck a little to loosen up knots. "And I think I'm scared. I always heard that throwing a few punches in the ring was good stress relief." The other pilot's suggestion causes him to snort, "If I do that, I'll never hear the end of it. Especially since you can never beat the Half Hitch's sliders. They're good enough that people do carrier landings to get them."

"Oh. No... I get it. I just find the entire process fascinating..." She doesn't look up from her work to sneak a peek at Niemec, but finishes the necessary paperwork for Van's viper. She shakes her head at the back and forth about the sliders. "I'm actually just fine... I don't need any sliders... or anything like that. I'm quite happy, thanks." She looks up at Van with a smirk, and then she starts toward the next ship on her docket. "I'm sorry to report, Lieutenant, that it'll take a few hours to get your ship looked at." All business now, despite the slight smile.

"There's also the fact that our needs and standards can differ." Niemec leans out the hatch a bit, looking out at the others. "Things that happen only in flight? Harder to reproduce on the ground, where the deckies are gonna be looking them over. So you learn the common issues and how to find them. These are also brand new models. Shit's different. I need to know exactly where everything is. There's no time for 'oh crap where'd they move the...' during an evac. She does start to retreat back in, but offers one last towards Isolde: "Don't turn down the sliders, woman. You can always give them to me." Non-mess hall food? Please.

"Even between colonies. I've seen some pilots here just do a cursory walk-around, and I always double-check the software patching if I have time, and you're practically crawling into the ship. Everyone does it differently." Van clicks the collar closed again, spinning it around the middle finger of his right hand as he responds to Isolde, "Well, at least that means that no one else will take my lady out." He gestures back toward the Viper, "If she's going to be downchecked for at least a couple hours." Looking over to Niemec, the Picon shrugs slightly, "I think that the mess hall food is pretty good, actually. Even if that stew... I'm not quite sure about it."

Isolde laughs at Niemec's response to this whole sliders thing. She turns, and gives Newton a monotonous reply. "I'm sorry. I need you to get me some sliders." Then she returns to the topic at hand about the ships, and she shrugs a shoulder. "Hey, I like to go over new computer systems from top to bottom when I sit in front of a computer... I get it." She starts to do a preliminary walk-around the viper she's currently checking over. "I've actually never flown a viper before... I did some raptor flying back when I was traveling around Tauron."

"Vipers are best for space. Get them in-atmo and you introduce new issues. Like fuel consumption." Niemec's voice fades just a bit more as she looks in a few of the interior compartments. Checking where things like tool and medical kits are stored, likely. In case they've changed. "Best dogfighters you'll find, but pretty one-trick pony as far as that's concerned. Could probably easily toss a simulator program on a holoband at some point for ya." And then she's moving to the cockpit, out of range, and settling into a seat to begin going through the systems themselves.

Van snorts softly at Isolde's robotic request, "Talk to the mess hall. You want me to take you down to Scorpia for sliders, you'll have to try a lot harder than that." His brows rise up as Isolde mentions having flown a Raptor, but then he looks over to Niemec, nodding his agreement with her first point, "They burn through fuel like the breakfast burrito bar after a bachelor party." The next point, however, has him frowning slightly, "They make pretty solid CAS platforms too. Not as good as Raptors, of course, but they're great at burning through a heavy fire zone and dropping off a present." And then she's gone, inside the Raptor, and he looks over to Isolde, "I got Seas of Fire up on the holobands I borrowed by the way. Thanks for the help with that."

"Huh... I wouldn't mind some sim-action, Squeak..." Isolde says honestly to Niemec's offer. "If I'm not taking time away from your own training, of course." She then looks over toward Van with a small snort. "Maybe I'll ask around and see if someone else wants to take me to Scorpia for sliders. I don't need you, Newton." She sticks out her tongue at him before she starts to scale up the ladder so she can plug into the ship and start some diagnostics. She listens to the comparisons of the two ships, and then nods at Van's thanks, and she grins. "Yeah, but remember... you owe me."

There's one thing you learn pretty early on: how to call outside a Raptor without being too shouty. "We can call it part of my training, I'm sure." Or she'll just use downtime for it because some pilots don't know how to shut it off. Niemec goes quiet then, powering up the Raptor's engines. Just enough for all the interiors to come on so she can start going through them. Gotta love a new toy.

Van shakes his head as Isolde sticks out her tongue at him, "No, I'm sure you don't. And yes, I do owe you a favor. I'm sure you'll collect when it is least convenient." And then the Raptor engines are spooling up, and Van goes quiet, moving around toward the grounded Raptor and stepping up into the rear passenger area, bringing up diagnostics on one of the rear screens. He doesn't comment on them, however, merely bringing them up and then stepping back to let the pro handle checking them.

Isolde is worrying with the viper, looking over diagnostics as it comes streaming in. She misses Van disappearing into the raptor, and blinks a few times when she realizes she has lost both pilots. She looks around, but it is a brief look around before she realizes that the raptor is spooling up. She slides down the ladder, peeking around the opened boarding area with a lift of both brows. "You two are makin' lots of trouble on my shift... Tykes wouldn't be tolerating any of this." She flashes a toothy smile at them, crossing her arms.

"Least I'm not taking advantage and convincing you into a brief test flight." Niemec leans around the pilot's chair, casting a grin towards Isolde. There is an appreciative glance for Van before she's looking back to the tech. "Unless you want to." Might be a joke. Might be a real offer. The woman leans back into the seat, the Raptor humming faintly. It's on, but the tyllium drive is barely going. Nope, not taking off anytime soon. But the interior lights are on and the panels all coming to life. She kicks off a brief diagnostics. "For the most part, looks like the systems are about the same and-" a look over to the DRADIS. "I doubt they'll change that any time soon."

"Hard to do many upgrades on the electronics, sir, when all of our pre-war tech more complicated than a Libran army knife has been compromised." Van steps back slightly from the terminal, letting both women study the screen, "Come on now, just because we're wasting fuel that's readily available from the docks... besides, Tykes has a concussion, he wouldn't even know what we're doing."

The Tauran nerd shakes her head slightly at the pair, and she steps fully onboard now, despite a cautious look over her shoulder to see if the deck chief is starting to get suspicious. Isolde sets her hands on her hips, head tilted slightly. "No... simple and straight forward has never been more secure," she says, shoulder shrugging slightly. "Hell, when we were fabricating parts for the main network, we went back to examine earlier computer systems." Then she laughs at Van's words on Tykes, and she shakes her head slightly. "Oh, well, when you put it like that."

"Well, you know. Visual and interface updates. That kind of thing. Or they move a switch to the opposite side." Niemec seems satisfied enough with things and starts powering the Raptor back down. "Much as it's tempting, I won't try to skirt around regs and take her out just now. Got a flight plan for top of my shift tomorrow."

Van nods at Isolde, "And beyond that, I'm not aware of any regs preventing pilots from spooling up a bird to run a more detailed inspection." Or he wouldn't have stepped aboard to help out in the first case. He leans forward to point at the readout, "There's a little wobble in the left engine output." There's a momentary pause, "Or I could have just been watching the line bounce for too long." Stepping away from the readout as Niemec begins powering the bird down, he puts a hand on Isolde's shoulder to step around her and descend from the Raptor, "I, unfortunately, smell like flight suit, and should do something about that."

"I'll make sure she's reserved for you, Squeak," Isolde says, tone upbeat to match her dimpled smile. "Stop giving me more work, Vee, or I'm going to push your viper maintenance all the way down to the bottom of the queue." She then starts to trundle out of the raptor with a light, and casual step. She looks at her watch, catching the time. "Yeah, I'm about done with my shift..." She weebles there a moment, thinking about something so deeply that her brow frinkles a bit.

The sounds of the elevator lowering raptor that just landed on Galactica is atypical sight to those in the hangar, so it warrants little to no immediate attention. Moments later it is pulled unto the parking slot and the passengers begin to filter out once the hatch is popped open. Dressed in his duty Durant shakes the pilot's hand before he hops down the craft's wing and gather his duffel. A line forms near the sergeant doing the registration. The aquarian nods and gives his name and identification papers, letting the marine do his checkup.

"I'll see how it handles. Might just be your eyes playing with you." Niemec doesn't seem bothered one way or the other. At least not enough to be filling out a gripe sheet. The Raptor is powered down and the pilot follows the other two out of the bird, closing the hatch behind them. She pauses on the wing for a moment, watching the incoming Raptor and its cargo. Hopping down to the deck floor proper, she tucks hands into pockets. "I'd say this place is going to get crowded, but I'm not sure that's possible."

Van glances up as the Raptor descends, then looks back to the pilot and the techie-playing-deck-crew, "The work is the work. I don't make the work, Asa." He pauses, considering, then adds, "Unless I prang a ship." He nods to Niemec, "You look at any gauge too long, it starts to jump on you." Studying the disembarking crew, Van considers, "I think it probably will, yes." And then he looks over to Isolde, reaching out one hand to nudge her brow with one finger, "Stop thinking so hard, Asa, smoke will start to pour out of your ears."

Isolde looks up at the sound of the elevator, and she tilts her head slightly. She starts to look up, but then gets poked in the forehead and she rocks back dramatically. "Stop that," she protests. "I was just trying to make a decision." Which was apparently a painful one. She glances back to the newly arrived marines. She stuffs her hands into the pockets of her bright orange coveralls thoughtfully. "Alright, I think I'm going to finish up fueling these cuties, and hit the showers. I have a date with a game of triad."

Durant is given his papers back and the sarge starts giving him the basics for new arrivals. It ends with a small salute before swinging his duffel over his shoulder and that walk behind the yellow line that marks the space where the deck gang do their monkey business. This is his first time here, so he does what most do and takes in the sights while being careful not to be on the way. Short chin-ups and smirks tossed to those who manage to make contact with him are given as he continues his solo tour of the hangar. No rush. Bunks aren't going anywhere.

"I might as well get my ass off this deck before someone tries putting me to work." Like some grunt. Niemec, however, smartly keeps that to herself. Instead, she pulls hands from pockets and lifts a hand to begin unzipping the suit itself to reveal the dual-tanks beneath. The classic sign of a pilot off the clock. "And my stomach is reminding me that I missed a meal. Maybe I'll finally try that stew they're pushing." Specials. Everyone fears Mess Hall specials, right? There's a nod to Isolde and Van both. "See you both around."

Oh, if the new guy only knew the difficulties they've had with bunks already. Van nods to Niemec first, "Watch the... ah... chickpeas. They're pretty much everywhere." He nods a farewell, and then looks over to Isolde, "You know, there are plenty of excellent things to purchase without losing all of your money at Triad." He pauses and then considers, "Unless you generally win." When Durant wanders near, Van glances over to him, "Welcome aboard the Galactica. Pilot looking at where you're going to work, or just a visitor?"

"Who says I'm going to lose?" Isolde protests to Van's waranings. She's moving along, letting Van play guest-greeter. She gives his forearm a gentle passing squeeze as she moves for the hatch. "See you around, Peep." She flashes a small smile to the pilot, and then another nod to the marine, and she's departing to hit the showers.

The female specialist is given a short wave before Durant focuses on Van. "A bit of both." The tanned man steps within arms reach and extends his hand. "Charles Durant," he opts to give the other pilot a friendlier intro instead of the more official LT versus Junior grade one. "Cabbie or Kew-shooter?" He smiles.

Van shakes his head at Isolde's protest, "I suppose you'd better win then, hadn't you?" He flashes a little smile, then looks back to Durant. As the man approaches and Van can see his rank insignia, he straightens up to attention and snaps off a salute and then reaches out to accept the hand, "Van Newton, sir. Viper pilot with the Wolfpack. Although I don't know that I'd call too many of the Raptor pilots cabbies. Some of them are a little protective of their capabilities as pilots."

Durant ahs and nods. "I see." A beat. "Far be it for me to belittle my own flocks' piloting abilities, Mr. Newton." He rubs his neck and adds, "It is what my previous wing used to call our fliers for the different crafts." His hand now moves into his trousers' front pocket. "With so many cultures clashing inside this ship, it is good to share some of the customs from our colonies, I would say."

Van nods his head at the other man's words, gesturing back to his chest, "Picon Navy here. I know in the ICJPK, we used Raptors for CAS as well as SAR, AWACS, and transport." Clasping his hands behind his back, the Picon pilot relaxes a bit, shrugging slightly, "You're right about the cultures though. It's going to be a difficult integration." There's a pause, and he ducks his head slightly to sniff at one armpit, "Which will only be more difficult if I don't hit the showers. Long training mission."

Durant smiles and nods once. "Copy that." He switches his duffel from shoulder to hand and angles towards the stairwell. "I guess I'll go claim a bunk before we ran out of them."

"You might do better off doing that than looking for whichever one you were assigned," Van frowns slightly at that note, "There's been a good deal of moving around already. And don't mind the smell, there were some issues with enviro controls in the officers' berthings. Good luck, sir." And then he heads off toward the nearest head.


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