Day 12 [1515 hrs.] Read The Manual

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Day 12 [1515 hrs.] Read The Manual

October 17, 2019, 10:46:55 PM

READ THE MANUAL
STARDATE 57586.94
MARCH 22, 2381
1515 HRS.

[ Lt JG Nator 159 | Section 12 | Deck 29 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Fife

It had been a frustrating few days. After spending most of hir waking moments for the week either eating or working on new EPS conduits in the belly of the Stallion, the news had come down that even though the internal crews were basically ready to seal the outer hull, the political decision had been made that the Aldean work groups were to be the ones to manufacture and transport the panels. On paper, this was fine. The shipyard necessarily had much larger industrial fabrication capabilities than the Theurgy, and it was hardly as if the particular duranium alloy nor the composition of their ablative armour was exactly secret to anyone in possession of a decent set of spectrographic sensors.

In practicality, Nator had to be stopped from going over to the docks to disembowel the local foreman for their glacial slowness.

But finally, now that hir colleagues had begun furnishing the rebuilt internal spaces with things like 'bulkheads' and 'lighting arrays', word had come from the shipyard that the ventral patch was complete and en route. S/he was there to supervise the installation of the hookups of data lines and power linkages to things like the sensor blisters, structural-integrity field generators, shield projectors, and so on. Engineering was present, as this definitely fell under their remit as much or more than Operations' own, though one would have to know who belonged to which department to tell them apart from hir Ops personnel in their mutual sea of gold.

It was a drawback for hir in particular, since s/he could no more remember their faces than s/he could recite Hamlet in its original Klingon.

S/he was staring out through the force field at the ochre crescent of Aldea as the irregular shape of the hull patch hove into view, tugged along by a pair of work bees.

"Fuckin' finally," Nator muttered to hirself, before tapping hir badge. "Are those welder teams in position?"

[Nice view from out here, Lieutenant.]

Taking that as a yes, s/he tapped a foot on the deck and chewed hir lip with one canine while s/he waited. Impatiently, the Hermat looked around for a last headcount. S/he wasn't sure - damnable prosopamnesia that s/he was still (so far) hiding - but there seemed to be one or two missing.

Nator elected to stay quiet on that, lest s/he invoke the commander's wrath again. It had been a clear week or more since hir last 'ensign infraction' in which s/he had allowed one of them to become the victim of their own eager stupidity, and if s/he could keep it quiet on that front s/he might stay under Stark's radar for a while longer.

"Come on.." s/he whispered.

Re: Day 12 [1515 hrs.] Read The Manual

Reply #1 – October 23, 2019, 09:52:43 PM

[ PO1 Scruffy LeBlanc | Section 12 | Deck 29 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Top Hat
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Scruffy had been more than happy to jump on the assignment when it was offered to him. Working on repairs as the massive hole in the hull of Vector 03 was sealed. Working outside of Engineering, away from the murderous glare of Blue Tiran and out of earshot of those scathing words, or worse, that sweet tone that signalled the impending doom of yet another shit assignment.

There was only so many days which one could spend replacing every single solitary screw in a series of Jefferies tubes before one began to wonder if maybe, just maybe, their boss had it out for them.

And so Scruffy found himself in Section 12 of Deck 29, heart racing and mind screaming at him that those Jefferies tubes seemed the much better option. He stood with his back pressed against the bulkhead, positioned as far from the opening in the ship as possible, eyes fixed on the view beyond the forcefield. He was hardly aware of anything else in the area, his vision focused solely on that hole, that opening into the beyond. Past the thin barrier of energy, the vast, cold, merciless vacuum of space loomed. Scruffy imagined he could see it pressing in on the forcefield, as though trying to pry it’s way in to suck them all out into oblivion. Scruffy imagined the view out there would be quite spectacular in the few seconds before his eyes froze solid or were sucked from his skull.

A shiver a fear ran up the shaggy Human’s spine at that thought.

Scruffy heard a muffled sound beside him, and thought for a moment it sounded almost like words, though the noise was far too distorted by his fear to be anything recognizable. Slowly, glacially, Scruffy turned his head to see a crewman in a gold shirt looking at him with a concerned expression. Scruffy blinked, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath and he tried to focus his mind on the man.

Don’t think about the giant hole in the wall… Scruffy ordered himself. Don’t think about the face that the forcefield could fail, or that the surrounding bulkheads might not be as stable as initially thought, or that a saboteur might try and vent the lot of us out into the void…

Fuck…

Another deep shuddering breath, another attempt to concentrate one anything besides the looming possibility of death which skulked nearby, and Scruffy finally managed to make out what the Crewman was saying. It was the second time the men had had to repeat himself.

”PO? Seriously, you need to let go…”

Scruffy stareda t the man, bewildered, then followed the man’s gaze down. He saw that, in his state of utter terror, he had instinctively latched on to the man, grasping the poor Crewman’s wrist in a vice like grip, as though that would have saved him had the forcefield given out.

Idiot… Scruffy chastised himself, finally freeing the alarmed Crewman. The fellow, now free, promptly scurried off in an attempt to put as much distance between himself and this crazy Petty Officer as possible.

Get a hold of yourself, man! Scruffy ordered himself, taking several more deep breaths, the flow of air becoming steadier, less frantic with each breath. He went thought a mental exercise,, one of the many the counsellors aboard the Bellerophon had taught him to deal with his myriad of fears, and after another few moments felt his heartrate begin to return to something almost resembling normal. Not wasting time celebrating that accomplishment, Scruffy forced himself away from the bulkhead, taking a hesitant step forward towards the opening. In the deathly emptiness beyond, the hull patch could be seen looming into view. At that moment, the sight could quite possibly have been one of the most beautiful things Scruffy had ever seen. The prospect of standing in a room that didn’t have a massive, gaping hole out into the unforgiving vacuum of space was certainly much more agreeable to the current circumstances.

”Fuckin’ finally,” He heard someone mutter nearby, turning his head to see a fair haired junior Lieutenant standing nearby, muttering to herself as she, too, watched the patch drift slowly into view and towards the hole in the ship’s hull. She tapped her combadge and inquired about the status of the welding teams. Her prominent, sharp looking canine teeth just visible as she spoke, and left Scruffy wondering what species the Lieutenant was.

As he looked on, the officer continued muttering to herself, and Scruffy found himself wondering if this unfamiliar LT was as nervous about their proximity to a cold, suffocating death as he was. A moment later he decided she was impatient rather than fearful as he was, judging by the look of irritation in her sea green eyes. Scruffy shifted his feet, hefting the toolkit he still carried in one hand, and took a step closer to the unfamiliar Lieutenant. ”Uh… excuses me, ma’am?” He said, happy to be talking to someone rather than staring in rapt horror at the gaping maw of space waiting to swallow him up. ”Sorry, ma’am, but are you with Ops or Engineering? I wasn’t told who I was supposed to report to. New to the ship. You guys sort of toasted mine.” Scruffy realized this might not be the greatest impression to make when first meeting a superior officer, especially one who already seemed less than pleased with the rate of progress, and so added another ”Ma’am…” for good measure. Officers liked when you made them feel officery, after all. Plus, the more he talked, the less he thought about the potential likelihood of dying in the cold grips of the void. As the thought struck him again, he stared intently at the Lieutenant, his eyes wide and holding an almost manic glow as he waited for her to respond.

Re: Day 12 [1515 hrs.] Read The Manual

Reply #2 – October 30, 2019, 11:55:26 PM

[ Lt JG Nator 159 | Section 12 | Deck 29 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Fife

"Uh... excuse me, ma'am?"

Nator kept hir eye on the slowly approaching hull section, and didn't at first realise the newcomer was addressing hir directly. But the presence did not recede, and continued speaking to hir with complete disregard for the fact that s/he'd accidentally blanked him.

"Sorry, ma'am..."

Now s/he paid attention. What was s/he, some simpering bino? Nator turned to the human - who smelled somehow familiar? But the rest of his features didn't fit - and looked him over. As always, there was a hope s/he wouldn't admit that some facial feature would ring a bell, would trigger some memory, even of something as trivial as passing in a corridor.

But there was nothing.

Also as always, s/he squashed the disappointment and kept it from hir face. Besides, 'new to the ship'. Hir expression twisted at the statement of fault... not that s/he could really disagree with it. Nator hirself hadn't been aboard the Helmet at the time, but there was no denying that it had truly gutted the Bellerophon.

"... Ma'am."

A long, long breath escaped hir nose as the weight of a lifetime of misapplied pronouns pressed. "'Lieutenant' will suffice, Petty. I am Nator 159, assistant chief of Operations. But we're all on the same team here." S/he pulled a PADD. "What's your name?"

S/he could find his assignment and direct him that way, though... perhaps unkindly, s/he wasn't sure how useful he'd be once he got there based solely on this first impression. Somehow, s/he suspected that if Stark were to telepathically know of hir assessment there would be another stern talking-to. At least, before there was any proof.

'If' there's any proof, s/he dutifully reminded hirself.

The plus side was that none of the EPS lines nearby were live, and so at least the risk of exploding ensigns was minimal.

Re: Day 12 [1515 hrs.] Read The Manual

Reply #3 – November 07, 2019, 11:33:07 PM

[ PO1 Scruffy LeBlanc | Section 12 | Deck 29 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Top Hat
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Scruffy smiled a lazy smile and nodded as the rather unfriendly-looking Nator 159 informed him that “Lieutenant” would suffice. That fact that Nator 159 had numbers in her name caused Scruffy to feel a slight sense of confusion, the befuddlement momentarily taking his mind off the gaping hole to oblivion not far away. 159? Was there a 158? Or a 160? Was she a close? Was it a generational thing?

Scruffy blinked, pulling his mind back to the present as he realized the Lieutenant had asked him something. He cast his mind back, hoping his ears had picked up the question while his mind had been wondering. He appeared to be in luck this time, as he distinctly recalled the Lieutenant had asked his name. The lazy grin returned to his features. ”Oh, me? Uh, I’m Scruffy, Lieutenant.” Scruffy realized that might not be the name one the duty roster, and his lazy grin turning into a lazy scowl as he opted to give his proper name.

”Er, LeBlanc, Lieutenant.” Scruffy shrugged. ”Scruffy LeBlanc. Or, well, Schubert LeBlanc, but not really. Nobody calls me that. Schubert I mean. Nobody calls me Schubert. Other than my mom, I guess. Oh, and my grandma. Aaand this one girl I used to date, but... uh...” Scruffy shook his head, trying to focus his thoughts. He was rambling, he knew, as he often did when he was feeling the grip of fear. And fear he felt, it’s cold hand grasping his chest all the tighter as his eyes darted to the side to take in the horrible sight of the ship’s open wound. Another shiver ran down his spine, and he gave an involuntary shudder as he forced his attention back to Nator 157. Or was it 156? ”Sorry, Lieutenant. I know you don’t care. I just… I ramble when I’m this close to an open route to the vacuum. I can practically feel it trying to suck my eyes out, y’know?”

Re: Day 12 [1515 hrs.] Read The Manual

Reply #4 – November 12, 2019, 10:04:53 PM

[ Lt JG Nator 159 | Section 12 | Deck 29 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Fife

The bino smiled at hir, which s/he found difficult to parse. Was this human... simple? Indeed, the silence was stretching on after s/he had asked his name. It gave hir rather too long an opportunity to study his face (not that s/he'd remember it later) and 'appreciate' its blockiness, its ugly harshness. Nator resisted the temptation to shake hir head at the concept of binos getting around to reproduce. How was such asymmetry supposed to be attractive?

"Oh, me?" No, the idiot behind you. "Uh, I'm Scruffy, Lieutenant."

Well, s/he could have told him th-

"Er, LeBlanc, Lieutenant." 'Scruffy' is his name? "... Or, well, Schubert LeBlanc..."

Nator could only blink in stupefaction that must have mirrored the man's own from earlier as he descended into a (mercifully short) recounting of what his family and acquaintances used to call him. S/he had met some interesting specimens aboard (and only allowed two so far to injure themselves through their determination not to listen to hir), but this new one was really something. For once, s/he was almost happy s/he likely wouldn't remember him.

Almost.

"Sorry, Lieutenant. I know you don't care. I just... I ramble when I'm this close to an open route to the vacuum. I can practically feel it trying to suck my eyes out, y'know?"

"Good news, Petty. There's a forcefield. Though if I recall the sensation is supposedly more one of the fluid on the surface of your eyes boiling off into vacuum, rather than them being 'sucked' out of your head wholesale," s/he provided helpfully, before looking down at hir PADD to find the man's assignment.

S/he didn't get far, though, before a flash caught hir eye. Nator looked up, back out through the forcefield, as one of the workbees' manoeuvring thrusters fired sporadically, matched by its opposite on the other side of the module's chassis. Was that a nervous pilot, or a technical problem?

Rather a pertinent question when it was one of two workbees pushing a few hundred tons' worth of armoured hullplate in their direction.

Re: Day 12 [1515 hrs.] Read The Manual

Reply #5 – November 17, 2019, 09:15:03 PM

[ PO1 Scruffy LeBlanc | Section 12 | Deck 29 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Top Hat
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When the Lieutenant spoke, she had began the sentence with the words “Good news, Petty”. And it was true, she had made mention of the forcefield, the protective energy field’s existence indeed being good news. Then she had gone on to say that dying in the vacuum would be more akin to the surface of one’s eyes boiling in their sockets rather than being sucked out.

This was not good news. Nor was it particularly well received, judging by the manner in which Scruffy’s face paled as the statement registered with him. Scruffy swayed slightly where he stood, unseen by the Lieutenant as the Hermat checked hir PADD for his assignment.

Happy thoughts, Scruff old boy… Scruffy silently encouraged himself, trying to rouse his spirits as well as his blood pressure before he passed out. S/he was just messing with you, man. S/he didn’t really… Scruffy’s inner pep talk was cut short as he saw the Lieutenant look up from hir PADD, her eyes directed off outside the forcefield. Following her gaze, Scruffy immediately saw what had drawn hir attention. One of the workbees which were supposed to be moving the section of hull plating into place, and thereby closing the massive, terrifying portal through which a cold death awaited, seemed to be having issues, their manoeuvring thrusters seeming almost to sputter as they sporadically fired.

”Uh, it’s not supposed to be doing that…” Scruffy murmured, his eyes fixed on the struggling workbee. As they continued to watch, the flickering of the craft’s thrusters became weaker and weaker. After a moment, the workbee released it’s side of the hull plate and drifted backwards.

[This is Workbee 02. I’m having some issues here. I’m going to have to head back and get this thing sorted out.]

With that, the Workbee turned and began to make it’s way back to the shuttle bay, it’s progress slow given the unstable nature of it’s thrusters. As it disappeared from view past the edge of the gaping hole in the ship’s hull, Scruffy turned and looked at the Lieutenant again. ”Can we get the team out there in the space coffins… uh… I mean… the EVA suits… yeah…” Scruffy paused, glancing out into the abyss for a moment before looking back to Nator. ”Can we get them to guide the one workbee to get the hull section in place? I know the dude’s basically flying blind, but he can still manoeuvre it into place if they can guide him.”

It could still work, but they’d have to work fast. The team in the EVA gear was already in place. Knowing that the sooner they got things ready the sooner he wouldn’t have to worry about his eyes flash-boiling in his skull, Scruffy turned and pointed at a group of nearby crewmen, his mouth open to address them. His mouth remained open yet silent for several seconds as the knowledge that he knew nobody’s names dawned on him, his finger still hovering in the air. ”Uh… you. And you. And uh… that guy…” Hardly the most authoritative start to orders, he had to admit, but it would suffice for now. ”Get your gear and get into position. Once the EVA team gets things sorted on their end, we need that hull plate sealed from the inside as well.” A transformation seemed to have come over the shaggy looking Engineer as he spoke, his voice taking on a certain level of commanding presence that was usually not associated with Scruffy LeBlanc. The truth was, he just wanted that bloody hole sealed. The past few months aboard the Bellerophon had given the shaggy engineer a plethora of experience in repairing damaged ships, the Belle being in constant need of repairs after each encounter with the Theurgy. The irony that he was now working to repair the ship which had created so much work for him on his old ship was not lost on Scruffy. It also dawned on him that the Lieutenant had not actually given him his assignment yet, the realization of which gave him pause.

”Er… sorry, Lieutenant.” He said, turning back to the Ops officer. ”I know you haven’t actually told me what I’m supposed to be doing. I just want that hole closed.” Shruccy shrugged, stuffing his hands back into his pockets, all evidence of the previous moment of authority seeming to disappear in an instant. ”I don’t like relying on some thin energy field to stop me from being sucked into the void, y’know?” A shiver ran down Scruffy’s spine at the thought, and he let out a slightly ragged breath as the convulsion passed. ”So… uh… orders maaaa…” Scruffy caught himself about to call the Lieutenant “Ma’am” again, which s/he hadn’t seemed to appreciate before. ”Er… Lieutenant?”

Re: Day 12 [1515 hrs.] Read The Manual

Reply #6 – November 25, 2019, 01:05:41 PM

[ Lt JG Nator 159 | Section 12 | Deck 29 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Fife

Sure enough, the workbee faltered, radioing in to say they were going to head back to dock. It was hardly ideal, given that they didn't bother arresting the approach of the giant slab of hullplate first, nor even warn their auxiliary craft companion that they were just cutting loose and going home either, but it was done now. All they could do now was get people out of the way, just in case, and see if they could prevent the replacement section bouncing off into the night.

But LeBlanc was ahead of hir. That fact alone was almost more surprising than the unprofessionalism of the workbee pilot. S/he disagreed with the concept of 'space coffins', but his following question was entirely reasonable. S/he'd been about to comm the external teams as it was.

Nator tapped hir badge. "Teams two and three, clear the breach. Team one, nominate someone to guide the tow in." A chorus of 'aye, aye's issued from the little speaker.

But the petty wasn't done, ordering the internal gang around and into position to spot-weld the anchor points when the plate finally arrived. Nator struggled not to stare at the Human. Where was this NCO a few minutes ago? How could he hide his competence so thoroughly?

"Er... sorry, Lieutenant. I know you haven't actually told me what I'm supposed to be doing. I just want that hole closed. I don't like relying on some thin energy field to stop me from being sucked into the void, y'know?"

And just like that, the engineer in him vanished again. Perhaps he needed the Fear? Some people needed that motivation, s/he reasoned. The panic of an approaching deadline to finish a paper, the rush caused by an impending logistics snafu... a yawning hull breach sealed with a few angstroms' worth of force field. Nator blinked, ignoring the bustle of the others around them setting to work. In the background, the quiet babble of back-and-forth comms between the workbee and the EVA teams continued, while the goldshirts inside lugged around gamma welders and hefty-looking hyperspanners.

"So... uh... orders maaaa-"

Oh, don't you do it. Not now.

"Er... Lieutenant?"

"Well-saved," s/he said, leaving it up to interpretation as to which exact thing s/he meant by that. "I had you down for supervising the SIF-integration teams... but first," s/he added, gesturing at him with the PADD, "What was that?"

Re: Day 12 [1515 hrs.] Read The Manual

Reply #7 – November 27, 2019, 03:45:28 AM

[ PO1 Scruffy LeBlanc | Section 12 | Deck 29 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Top Hat
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As Scruffy corrected himself, barely stopping himself from saying “Ma’am”, Nator seems to approve of the catch, going so far as to comment on his “nice save”. Scruffy shrugged, giving the Lieutenant an half-grin as s/he stated he would be in charge of the team working on integrating the structural integrity field. Scruffy nodded as he received his assignment, though he took on a somewhat perplexed look as Nator continued.

”But first…” S/he added, gesturing to him with the PADD s/he held, ”What was that?”

Scruffy instinctively looked down, wondering it he had something on his uniform. He went so far as to take hold of the fabric of his tunic between thumb and forefinger, pulling it outward to give him a better view. It looked clean, if somewhat wrinkled, leaving the shaggy looking engineer confused as to what exactly the Lieutenant was talking about. ”Uh… what was what, Lieutenant?” Scruffy asked hesitantly as continued his inspection of his uniform. ”I don’t see anything…” With a shrug, Scruffy released his hold on the fabric and grinned at Nator apologetically. ”Looks like it’s gone now I guess? Anyway, I’ll go get my teams organized. The sooner we get this hole plugged, the sooner I’ll stop imagining my eyes boiling in their sockets.” Scruffy turned and started heading off to check on the teams.

Scruffy headed off and found the teams he would be supervising. ”Ok. I want you guys working as soon as that giant piece of hull plating is in place and secured. The sooner we get the SIF-integration finished, the better.” Scruffy said, the authoritative presence having returned to his voice for the moment. ”I want this hole sealed as quickly as we can. If we don’t get this done quickly, Commander Tiran is going to have all our asses.” That got their attention, the fear of their department head spurring the crewmen to pick up their tools a little faster and move with a sense of urgency. Good, Scruffy thought. He knew Blue would likely find an excuse to ream him out for one infraction or another, but at least this wouldn’t be one of the reasons. And on the plus side, the sooner the hole was sealed and the job finished, the sooner he wouldn’t have to worry about dying in the vacuum.

That thought brought a question to his mind, and Scruffy turned away from the team of engineers which was readying their equipment and moving into position to make his way back to Nator. ”Uh… Lieutenant?” Scruffy said as he approached, a nervous look on his features. As he drew up next to hir, he continued in a somewhat quiet voice, it’s tone uneasy. ”Your eyes don't really boil, do they? You’re just messing with me, right L.T.?”

Re: Day 12 [1515 hrs.] Read The Manual

Reply #8 – November 28, 2019, 02:17:53 PM

[ Lt JG Nator 159 | Section 12 | Deck 29 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Fife

The teams around them moved into action, and Nator busied hirself by keeping tabs on the operation through hir oversized PADD. Checking things off, moving along the work plans, noting the problems and blockers along the way... all the super fun things that no one bothers telling anyone about when they mention an interest in Ops. Sure, come along. All the paperwork you could possibly want to see in a lifetime. It's great fun. Very rewarding.

Hir load of the stuff had only increased since hir appointment as permanent assistant chief, but it was as much part of the job as any other, and so s/he tried not to complain.

Nator was more successful at that on some days rather than others.

Scruffy invoked the name of the new chief engineer and spurred the goldshirts - or at least the Engineering half of them - to greater levels of activity. Idly, s/he wondered about that. S/he'd heard that the new chief was a firebrand and had a patience shorter than just about anyone else aboard - even hirself, if s/he were to believe the rumours - but all of the complaints s/he had heard were of a personal-interaction nature rather than a professional one.

Good. Ship needs competence more than ever, s/he groused to hirself, totally not at all imagining several of the ensigns under hir own charge lately.

"Uh... Lieutenant?"

"Yes, Petty," s/he answered, typing away on hir PADD.

"Your eyes don't really boil, do they? You're just messing with me, right L.T.?"

Nator shook hir head, smiling faintly and waving the question away. "Oh, no, not at all. That's a bit of a misconception actually... the average humanoid's internal membranes and so on provide quite enough pressure to prevent boiling - eyes and veins included. No, it's the water on the surface of your eyes and tongue and so on that'll boil as the pressure drops - simple gas equation stuff, really. As the pressure drops, so does the boiling point of any given liquid.

"It's the alveoli in your lungs bursting under the pressure gradient that'll get you."

The light on the deck was changing as the new plate inched closer to the breach and occluded the spotlights and starlight from outside. It wasn't darker, really - certainly the lighting rigs on the deckhead were more than sufficient to light the space - but they were dimmer than the ones attached to the shipyard even accounting for distance. Nator found hirself blinking as hir eyes adjusted, quite unconcerned by the force field and what it separated from the working crews.

If the power did fail, s/he wouldn't have to worry about it for long.

[Contact made,] came the call from one of the EVA teams after a solid thump from the superstructure around them. [Welding the spar now. Five minutes and the workbee can hit the hangar.]

"There you go, Petty," Nator said, with a false brightness that betrayed hir thorough entertainment at his discomfort, "All safe and sound."

Until the next thing that goes wrong, s/he reminded hirself. It wasn't over until it was over.

Re: Day 12 [1515 hrs.] Read The Manual

Reply #9 – December 04, 2019, 09:40:33 PM

[ PO1 Scruffy LeBlanc | Section 12 | Deck 29 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Top Hat
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"Oh, no, not at all. That's a bit of a misconception actually..." Scruffy breathed a sigh of relief, his nerves relaxing slightly. Nator wasn’t finished, however. ”The average humanoid's internal membranes and so on provide quite enough pressure to prevent boiling - eyes and veins included. No, it's the water on the surface of your eyes and tongue and so on that'll boil as the pressure drops - simple gas equation stuff, really. As the pressure drops, so does the boiling point of any given liquid."

Scruffy let a slight whimper, his eyes going wide as he stared at Nator.

"It's the alveoli in your lungs bursting under the pressure gradient that'll get you."

A short burst of laugher burst from Scruffy’s lips, the sound bordering on hysteria. The light in the room changed then, and for a moment Scruffy’s mind screamed inside his head, terrified that the forcefield had failed, and that instant oxygen deprivation was causing his vision to go dark. Eyes wide as saucers, Scruffy looked around him, wondering how everyone else could be so calm when they were clearly about to die, sucked out into the void, the surfaces of their eyes flash-boiling and their lungs exploding inside their chests.

WHAT WAS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE?? Scruffy’s mind screamed, his mouth hanging open in silent disbelief.

Then he realized that they weren’t being sucked out into the void.

Glancing at the place where there had once been a gaping portal into the cold abyss, he found that he could no longer see the stars, not the lights which had been mounted to allow the EVA suit teams to perform their work.

The section of hull plating was in place.

”There you go, Petty,” Nator said beside him, her tone one of amusement. ”All safe and sound.”

Scruffy breathed a sigh of relief, his shoulders sagging as the sense of utter terror which had gripped him subsided. They weren’t going to die today. Or at least, not right that second.

”Oh man…” Scruffy moaned softly, shaking his shaggy head and causing his unkempt hair to sway about his noggin. ”I’m gonna need a drink after this…” Scruffy looked up, giving Nator a slightly embarrassed grin. ”Well, L.T., I guess I’ll go and… uh… see to the structural integrity field… and uh… yeah.” Scruffy shrugged, turning to slouch off to oversee the teams at work, muttering as he went. ”Safe and sound. Yeah, sure. Nothing safer than almost getting your eyes sucked out and your lungs turned inside out. Nope. All good. Nothing to worry about, Petty, you’ll only die horrifically in the cold, dark void. Like, no big deal, man.”

A final shudder ran down Scruffy’s spine as he reached the teams, the various crews already having started their work. He saw two to his left working on linking the EPS relays to the new segment of hull plating, one of them at work with a Gravitic Caliper while the other used a phase compensator to adjust the plasma flow through the EPS conduit. Ahead of him was another pair of crewmen working with a portable LCARS interface to work on getting the SIF in the new hull segment up and running. Moving to where they worked, Scruffy peered over their shoudlers. ”Where’re we at?”

”10%. It’s coming along, PO. Slowly, but it’s coming along.” The Andorian crewman glanced up at Scruffy, his eyes taking on a look of concern. ”Are you ok, PO? Your colour isn’t looking so great, even for a pinkskin…”

”Yeah, well, I’ve had a day.” Scruffy muttered, giving the Andorian a half-hearted grin. ”Once the EPS grid is connected to the new section, things should move a bit faster.”

”You’re from the Bellerophon, right PO?” The Andorian said, changing the subject. A nod from Scruffy confirmed the Andorian’s suspicions, causing the blue-skinned man to grin. ”I bet we gave you a good amount of things to repair, eh PO?”

Scruffy directed a friendly grin towards the man, knowing he was bound to get more than a little ribbing based on his previous ship. ”Oh yeah. You lot kept us pretty busy.” Scruffy informed the Andorian, his grin growing mischievous. ”Has anyone ever told you your antennae are different lengths?” The Andorian’s antennae sagged, Scruffy having obviously hit a sore spot with his question. The Human operating the gravitic caliper chuckled, shaking his head as he worked. Scruffy chuckled, glad that his former position aboard Task Force Archeron thus far hadn’t caused much friction between himself and the Theurgy’s crew. Scruffy patted the man on the shoulder, chuckling. ”Keep at it. Let me know when the field integration gets to 50%, yeah?”

”You got it, PO.” The Andorian said as Scruffy turned and headed off to check on the next team.

A few minutes later Scruffy ambled back over to Nator to keep the Lieutenant appraised of progress before he jumped in to help the repairs move along, hand stuffed in his pockets and the laces of one of his boots dragging under his heel, the laces having come undone at some point. The shaggy engineer seemed much more relaxed now, the tension and terror gone from his stance as she slouched up next to the Lieutenant. ”The teams are making good progress, LT. It’ll be a few hours before the EPS and SIF integrations are fully completed. How are the EVA teams doing outside? Anyone’s eyes boiled yet” Scruffy gave Nator a lazy grin, glad that the ill effects of space were a concern for someone else now rather than himself. Despite his sense of relief, a slight shiver ran down his spine at the joke.

Re: Day 12 [1515 hrs.] Read The Manual

Reply #10 – December 12, 2019, 08:52:18 PM

[ Lt JG Nator 159 | Section 12 | Deck 29 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Fife

Almost at once, the relaxed-to-the-point-of-being-horizontal Scruffy returned, the man trundled off to start hooking up the generators and repeaters that would properly integrate the panel to the rest of the hull once the welding was complete. S/he hirself went back to updating the paperwork (joys) and making sure all the details were in order.

"Lieutenant!" someone called. "EPS valve here isn't engaging.."

If this is another ensign, I am going to end up in the fucking brig.

Nator dutifully headed over - it was important to show willing, of course - to see what the problem was. The internal repair was mostly completed, but a lot of it was still fairly bare-bones and had yet to be properly tested. This was probably just a teething problem. On the way, her comm link chirped.

[Major spars connected. Once they're cooled, they're good for examination. Moving on to secondaries.]

S/he tapped hir badge. "Acknowledged." Then, to the crewman with the EPS issue, "What's the hold up?"

"Flow limiters are disengaged but the plasma won't divert to power the gennies... I can't understand it."

The Hermat slipped the PADD into a thigh pocket and leaned closer to the open bulkhead, looking around the three-dimensional maze of data lines and power feeds. "You've done the fundamentals, I take it?" s/he asked, obviously hinting that s/he wouldn't be happy if all the basic troubleshooting steps hadn't yet been followed.

"Yessir. Sealed and reopened the tap, checked the limiters, verified flow in main line. Nothing."

"You're missing one." Nator watched the technician frown, almost able to hear the mental count along the steps again.

"Did-"

S/he reached out, still watching the man's face, and saw the instant he realised which blindingly obvious step he'd overlooked as hir hand approached it; easily enough done, as sometimes these things were so simple one's brain just skipped over it. S/he grasped the manual failsafe locking lever, and opened it. Two of the little red lights turned green inside the inspection area. "Think that did it?"

"Ah, yes, Lieutenant. I think I'll be fine from here."

"Very good."

The work continued for a little while, the various groups and crews spreading out and recongregating by turns as different phases of the operation rolled around. Scruffy returned, with hir only able to recognise him before he spoke by dint of the fact that s/he had his scent now. Still, Nator suspected that s/he was going to end up with a new pet by the end of the day. "... How are the EVA teams doing outside? Anyone's eyes boiled yet?"

S/he had no idea what to make of LeBlanc. He seemed by turns to be a nervous wreck with a motivation for engineering, and an unflappable layabout. It took hir a second to decide how to respond. Thinking back to fear-as-motivator, s/he had it.

"On track for contiguous seal in the next twenty minutes," the svelte humanoid supplied. "But fasten your bootlace," s/he pointed. "If you faceplant the outer bulkhead and push it out of alignment, the forcefield might not engage in time to prevent it being blown off the side of the ship again." Nator paused, jaw muscle twitching as s/he fought to keep a straight face as s/he delivered some very sombre advice.

"If that does happen, and you want to live, exhale. Don't hold your breath, unless you want to drown in your own fluids."

Re: Day 12 [1515 hrs.] Read The Manual

Reply #11 – December 13, 2019, 09:13:35 PM

[ PO1 Scruffy LeBlanc | Section 12 | Deck 29 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Top Hat
[Show/Hide]

Being easy-going and generally a laid back individual, there were very few people that Scruffy had come across during his time in Starfleet which he had not liked. Lieutenant Nator seemed rather determined to add hir name to the very short list, and was making an excellent job of the task.

Another pang of nervous apprehension oozed it’s way through Scruffy’s insides as Nator cracked a joke about bulkheads being knocked out, forcefields not engaging in time, and Scruffy holding his breath and drowning in his own fluids. Scruffy stared at her for a long moment, eyes wide and mouth silently agape, before the engineer managed to snap himself out of his stunned and horrified state. ”I, uh, just remembered…” Scruffy mumbled, gesturing feebly off to some point behind him as he began to turn away. ”Something to do. Important. Need to calibrate the… something…” He had been slowly inching away from the Lieutenant as he stuttered and mumbled what was, quite possibly, the least convincing excuse ever uttered.

Then he turned and strode quickly away, hoping to put as much distance between himself and the morbid officer. ”Fuck me…” Scruffy muttered as he made his way back to where his teams were at work. ”Who brought the Good News Bear?” Shaking his head, Scruffy tried to put the comments out of his mind as he threw himself back into his work, both for the distraction and to speed things along. The sooner they were finished, the sooner he could stop worrying about dying in horrible, terrifying ways.

And the sooner he could get away from the cheery Hermat.

Arriving back at his team, Scruffy leaned over the Andorian’s shoulder to peer at the display. ”Where’re we at?”

”The crews dealing with the EPS connections are nearly finished, though there’s a bit of a hold-up.” The Andorian replied without looking at him, ”Structural Integrity integration is coming along. Field integration is at 47%.” Scruffy glanced over to the EPS team, seeing the man holding the Gravitic Calipers standing off a little ways and fiddling with the tool. ”Hey, man. What’s the hold-up?” Scruffy asked, sauntering over in the man’s direction.

The Crewman looked up at Scruffy with a confused expression. ”I dunno, PO. This thing’s outta whack or something.” Scruffy looked at the tool, the drew an engineering tricorder from the cargo pocket of his uniform and flipped it open to scan the tool. ”The tool’s localized gravitic field is out of sync.” Scruffy muttered as he peered at the tricorder readouts through half-closed eyes. He tapped a series of keys on the tricorder, adjusting the calibration of the tool, then flipped it shut. ”Give it a try now. That should give you a better reading.” Pocketing the tricorder once more, Scruffy stuffed his hands into his pockets and meandered back to where the SIF team was still pouring over the display readouts. ”Thanks, PO.” The caliper-wielding man called after him. ”Should have it pretty much done in the next 5 or 10 minutes.”

”50%, PO.” The Andorian reported as Scruffy approached.

50%.

50% was good.

50% meant it was half as likely that he would be sucking into a place where, according to Good News Bear Nator, the fluid on the surface of his eyes would boil, the alveoli in his lungs would explode, and he would then drown in his own fluids.

Another shudder ran down the shaggy engineer’s spine, and Scruffy gritted his teeth to bite back a whimper. He should have avoided Blue, hidden in a Jefferies tube so that she couldn’t give him this assignment. She likely would have ferreted him out, she was good and that, and forced him into this task anyway. Part of Scruffy suspected she was hoping he would get sucked out into the void, eyes boiling, lungs exploding and skin freezing in the vacuum. Maybe it was a defense mechanism. Maybe she was afraid having him around would cause a rift between her and her fiancé. Or maybe she was just sadistic and evil…

Scruffy was beginning to believe that it might be the latter…

”Structural Integrity Field integration at 67%.” The Andorian’s worse pulled Scruffy out of his daydream. After watching the display and seeing the progress creep along and a glacial pace for several minutes, Scruffy looked up at the EPS team and asked for a time estimate.

”10 minutes, PO.”

Didn’t he say 5 minutes 10 minutes ago? Scruffy thought to himself, running a hand through his shaggy hair in an absentminded way. Even though Scruffy wanted to speed things along, there was little he could do. They had more than enough bodies working as it was, and crowding to to try and get things done faster would just put him in the way of people. That many bodies jostling to work in such close proximity would increase the chance of mistakes, of bumping or knocking into each other. Of making mistakes.

Mistakes could mean an integrity failure, and all the pleasant things the Lieutenant had described along with it.

No fucking thank you… Scruffy thought to himself and he suppressed a shudder, content to stay where he was and monitor the progress of his teams. He’d lend a hand where they needed it, but they were quickly proving themselves competent with the task, and more cheerful to be around than the unnaturally-cheerful and ghoulish comments of the Hermat. A quick glance in the Lieutenant's direction told him s/he was glancing his way, and Scruffy shuddered at the thought of what the ominous officer might say to him next if s/he decided to come over and check on progress.

Re: Day 12 [1515 hrs.] Read The Manual

Reply #12 – December 25, 2019, 02:19:57 PM

[ Lt JG Nator 159 | Section 12 | Deck 29 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Fife

The work continued for the next hour - at this point, with the major elements in place, there was little to go wrong but integration failures. With the hull panels in station and entirely welded to the underlying frame, anything that might now go wrong was basically failsafe. On the one hand that was a good thing, but on the other, s/he could no longer 'motivate' the good petty with it.

Well. There was an interesting thing. Nator realised that s/he could remember him. LeBlanc. Not his face (fuck it) but at least him. The rest of him. Scent, build, voice. It was new - apart from Liam Herrold, everyone else disappeared into the sea of hir amnesia basically as soon as they were out of sight. S/he could remember everything of their interactions, what they'd been doing... but the person themselves vanished. There was always a moment when someone came up to hir during a work order that s/he had to check if it was someone s/he'd already intereacted with or not.

No longer? Was this an indication of improvement? It had after all been around a month since s/he had come out of stasis and had hir brain injury 'repaired'.

"Ah, fuck," s/he muttered to hirself.

S/he'd have to go back to sickbay.

But not now. Even if it meant that there might be someone other than the reason s/he'd gotten hirself demoted that s/he could remember now. Perhaps others. Stark still eluded hir (though s/he'd managed to avoid a meeting for the last few days... perhaps that would change too?) For now, the EPS lines were hooked up, the SIF generators were harmonising with the wider grid, and the welders were nearly done outside. Nator sniffed the air experimentally to see how close by the petty was, and scanned around for his silhouette. S/he gave up and tapped hir badge.

"Petty Officer LeBlanc; Nator. Report."

Re: Day 12 [1515 hrs.] Read The Manual

Reply #13 – December 29, 2019, 12:24:51 AM

[ PO1 Scruffy LeBlanc | Section 12 | Deck 29 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Top Hat
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Things were going well. Scruffy had finally managed to relax, the tension in his shoulders having gradually vanished with each additional percentage of integrity field integration. Scruffy had ended up lending a hand as several hiccups had popped up, but those had been smoothed over quickly.

After an hour, as the structural integrity field showed 100% integration, and with the EPS relay teams having completed their work, Scruffy felt significantly further from imminent death. This was most definitely a good thing.

Scruffy had tasked the team which had been hooking up the EPS relays to double-check the plasma flow to the SIF emitters located in the new hull segment, while he and the SIF integration team ran through some tests and simulations to confirm the field would stand up once they were outside of the Aldea space docks. So far the tests had all confirmed the SIF’s integration had been successful. Scruffy straightened up from the portable console they had been working at, lazily arching his back with arms stretched wide as series of cracks sounding within his spine, drawing a mildly alarmed look from the Andorian engineer still crouched at the console. Scruffy grinned at the blue man, and had just stuffed his hands into his pockets when his combadge chirped.

[Petty Officer LeBlanc; Nator. Report.]

Sighing as he directed a rueful glance at his blue-skinned comrade, Scruffy reached up and tapped the badge on his chest.

”Scruffy here. Er… LeBlanc, I mean.” Scruffy glanced around the room as he spoke, looking to see where the Lieutenant was. He caught sight of hir on the far end of the room, standing with his back to him. ”We’re almost finished with our post-integration diagnostics over here, LT. We’ve had the odd hiccup along the way, but everything’s checked out so far.” Scruffy had begun to slouch his way across the work area as he spoke, his gaze travelling lazily over the various teams going about their work. ”Plasma flow to the structural integrity field emitter in the new hull section is at optimal levels, structural integrity field is 100% integrated and passing all checks and simulations.” Scruffy tapped his combadge to deactivate the channel as he sauntered up behind the Lieutenant. ”We should be wrapping up pretty quick here, LT. Though I gotta ask…” Scruffy glanced at the massive section of new hull plating that was now secured in place and almost fully integrated into the ship’s existing hull. ”What the hell made a hole that size in the hull? I’ve never seen anything like it, and you lot did more than a bit of damage to the Belle while I was aboard her…”

Re: Day 12 [1515 hrs.] Read The Manual

Reply #14 – January 06, 2020, 11:05:27 PM

[ Lt JG Nator 159 | Section 12 | Deck 29 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Fife

For once, hir mantra of 'two hundred engineers and a fortnight in space dock' weren't an expression of frustration. The ship was objectively in the best shape it had been in at least a month, going by the logs, and now the hull had even been restored to contiguous order. With the SI field in place, it was as strong as any other point on the dreadnought's armoured skin.

[Scruffy here. Er... LeBlanc, I mean.]

Good start.

[We're almost finished with our post-integration diagnostics over here, LT. We've had the odd hiccup along the way, but everything's checked out so far. Plasma flow to the structural integrity field emitter in the new hull section is at optimal levels, structural integrity field is 100% integrated and passing all checks and simulations.]

Perfect. Although that had probably been the sentiment of many a naval architect before their pride and joy met the enemy for whom it had been designed. Scruffy sidled up behind hir, the man apparently incapable of standing stock straight unless terrified. And honestly, it was an effort to keep him that way. Perhaps it was just better to let him shuffle around.

"... Though I gotta ask... What the hell made a hole that size in the hull? I've never seen anything like it, and you lot did more than a bit of damage to the Belle while I was aboard her..."

Nator winced a little, more at the knowledge of what one of the ship's vectors had done - had had to do - to another ship of the Fleet to which they should all belong. One school of thought on the ship held that the Bellerophon shouldn't have joined the Task Force in the first place, orders or no.

Most of everyone else considered it a fucking tragedy.

"Graviton cannon," s/he said, after a pause. "And after meeting its crew-portable version first-hand," s/he said, with a reflexive one-sided shrug as remembered pain asserted itself, "I'm hardly surprised that its naval counterpart managed such a feat against the ship."

Nator went quiet again for a moment. "We lost something like two dozen crew in that strike. Folded and crushed into themselves and then blown into space." S/he swallowed.

"The lucky ones."

~FIN