AWD #081: Induction Tour
Induction Tour
Summary: With two new technicians being assigned to Orion's deck, PO1 Rutlii gives them their induction tour
Date: 28/03/2013
Related Logs: Nothing specific.
Ajax Toby Sera 
Hanger Bay, Deck 3 - Battlestar Orion
Each hangar deck is divided into five one-hundred yard sections, each divided from the others by massive blast doors that close vertically from the floor and overhead. Each hangar section houses all of the Vipers, Raptors, and Predators that the wing operates as well as the vital work areas to support and maintain these fighting platforms. Each bay is large enough to accommodate one of these frames and still get heavy work done, though the fore- and aft-most sections are dedicated to overhauls and major work to be done. The bays along the center section are located across from launch tubes and elevators in order to provide scramble and Alert-Five capabilities. The second-to-aft bay provides major elevator and transport access to the starboard bay as well as the major manufacturing facility. Due to the nature of the work, the hangar decks are major hubs of activity at all hours of the day and all but four hours overnight.
AWD #81

Thankfully, even in a war you get lulls. Lulls in combat, and lulls in maintaining everything so that you can go back to combat. Even with the hive of activity that the Hangar bay is-there's enough of a lull for one of the duty PO's to give a couple of rookies a well meaning and slightly grumbling tour. After all there is nothing like trying to help someone play catch up during a warzone scenario-and there's nothing like having to do it for two people who may or may not be cylons. This is where we find our cast today as it seems that Sera has been picked by the Chief to handle this situation and lead both a rather tall and thick looking Sagitarran, along with a wiry fellow for Tauron. There is likely a cultural joke in here somewhere.

Thankfully, for Sera, Petty Officer Second Class Ajax Medvedev is actually quiet as he is walked around in his orange coveralls (Which by miracle fit just fine) and his eyes seem to be going to the various things pointed out-with a nod here and there. "I've served in a bay like this before." He finally speaks up. "I was on the Atlantia, before they had me doing ground work." if that's helpful.

Toby’s coveralls don't fit too badly either, in all honesty, although it would seem that one of his feet is slightly bigger than the other as he has to wear two socks on his left foot to make his deckboots fit right. It might not be the greatest concern humanity has to face right now, but it is faintly annoying, especially when there's a lot of walking involved, like say, doing an induction tour. With Ajex having already had experience on decks he's letting him do most of the talking, concentrating himself on trying to focus solely on what Sera says rather than his stupid boot, or the toasters onboard. It's a tricky task, but he's trying, bless him, concentration written into his forehead as he asks, "Sorry, I know you just went over it, but which one is the FOD bin? Was that the green one, or was that SOPEP?"

"Then maybe we won't end up hosing you off the floor," Sera says, her voice nearly drowned out by the dull roar of the deck during duty hours. As she continues her awkward backwards-shuffle down the deck, this occasionally requires looking back over her shoulder to avoid smashing into the wing of a Viper or walking into the path of moving machinery. "It's the green one, an' it's mostly used for stuff you don't have a convenient place to put away. If somebody just left a spare spool of wirin' layin' out, put it the frak back."

There's a flat look given Sera, but, likely it's lost. And then Ajax is looking back towards Toby as the question comes up and there's a subtle roll of his shoulders as a grin barely shows. A nudge to the other man as he is pointing in the direction of where the bin was as they are continually moving. A refresher course is never a bad thing. "Do you have a cart that comes by regular from the Storage-or if you need shit-you just go and get it?" Always a good question. He's seen it once-but that thing ended up being held up more than the Caprican railway. "What's our big concern?" Beyond you know having a small fighter craft park into you, and other niceties.

Toby nods silently in acknowledgement as his query is answered. Green. Shouldn't be too hard to remember right? He glances first to Ajax at the nudge, then to the suddenly empty bit of deck he's pointing to before turning back to Sera again as the other man asks his questions. He has no idea on the supplies query so keeps his mouth shut but at the question about concerns his mouth outsprints his brain and he replies "frakking Toasters in the pilot's mess."

There's a dull, dry laugh from Sera at Toby's comment. It's not a happy sound, but a bitter one. "We get it ourselves. There's a certain amount of supplies on deck that are readily available, which I'd suggest bringin' to your work station at the beginnin' of your shift. If we're out, we're out. When War Day started, we pulled up a lot of buried supplies an' took a fully inventory when the Viper factory got spooled up. So far, we ain't run short, so if you don't see somethin' available, just check with stowage." She skirts around a spread of tools and wires and parts one of the avionics tech has spread out across the floor, all kept within easy reach of his hands, yes, but also their boots.

"Oh, so it is working. Well there goes question two." Ajax replies before he is ducking-yes ducking out the the way of a wing before he is looking back towards Toby. "Nice." a shake of his head, as his own chuckle joins in, but still like a lot of gallows humor, this laugh don't reach as much as it dangles and hangs there for a while. As they skirt the wires, the PO2 looks back briefly before he's grumbling. "He needs to keep that in." assuming it was a he-he only saw a backside. "That's how you trip someone and fights happen."

"Viper factory still going?" Toby asks, hands in his pockets largely to avoid the risk of accidentally breaking anything by touching it. He nods as Ajax manages to work it out for himself then steps round the wires too. Being new to the military, his next question may seem a little dumb, but he asks it anyway, "the birds. The pilot's have their own or do they just take any that are cleared to fly?" Thankfully, he doesn't have to duck for the wing as he's further out from the fuselage, but he does tilt his head slightly to accommodate the wingtip itself.

"We haven't had to use it — yet. So that's a small mercy there. Replacin' banged up Raptors is goin' to be harder. We don't have the capacity to build 'em fresh on ship; it's all goin' to be salvage work with them, an' swappin' out parts that have gone to crap for ones that are just 'eh', if things get worse. You're workin' a bus, you save everythin' you can," she says, as she directs them over towards the elevators. "Each pilot has their own bird, labelled with their name. If it's down for maintenance, we put 'em in what's available. Try not to assign out the hangar queen if you can help it. I was goin' to tear her down myself, every bit, but then assault on the Colonies happened an' ain't anybody got time for that now. She still flies, but it ain't pretty."

"Then tell the pilots to quit flying them into missiles." Ajax adds on before he is shaking his head. "Raptors are a bitch anway, remaking a new one? He'll we'd be lucky to come up on an elephant's graveyard and see what hulks we could make fly." Still the Stagitarran doesn't seem phased by the size of the projects that are awaiting them. However Toby's question has him looking back at the other tech for a moment before he is nodding. Apparently there is some solidarity there. "The reason they didn't have them on Picon, Shacks, was because we didn't want any of the birds traced back to some place in case a downed pilot was caught. Command order, we scrubbed a lot of em off." he rattles before he's raising a brow. "Which one is the queen?"

"Hanger queen?" Toby queries, quite obviously unfamiliar with the term. The rest of Sera's answer is taken onboard with nods at the salient points and things start to click together in his head. Something Ajax says distracts him though and he flashes the other man a quick frown of annoyance before that explanation is nodded at too. "Makes sense," he notes, more so that his entire input into the conversation isn't just to nod and ask dumb questions. "Which one is the Toaster's?" he asks, tilting his head towards the vipers, "just so I know which to avoid lest temptation strike. Wouldn't want to lose a good bird."

"That is what I'm takin' you to see next," Sera says as she strides the elevators. The thing is huge, clearly meant to handle small aircraft instead of conveniently transporting personnel too lazy to climb a flight of stairs. "These lead up to our landin' zone. You're gonna want to put your earplugs in an' sealed suits on for any trip, gentleman, 'cause she's obviously exposed to hard space. When you're up there, I don't give a rats ass what gods you pray to. It's the aircraft handlers that mean life or death, 'cause their signs an' your eyes are the only thing keepin' you from bein' splattered by some hot-shot Viper jock comin' in hot. You do what they say an' you move where they tell you, when they tell you, no questions asked." This is said, perhaps, primarily for Toby's benefit, as she's looking to him. "Got it?"

"I've been on the strip before. Not with her" meaning the Orion. "It's nothing big." he adds before he is looking back towards Sera. "Does your LSO keep them from coming in Hot, or do you have a lot of scares?" again to know what pilots behaviors are often can translate into happy and non splattered deck. As for Toby, Ajax offers a faint grin. "I wouldn't worry about which one belongs to the robot. There's plenty of birds to work on. " which means one might take longer to get to-you know work load and all.

From his expression, it's probably safe to say that the idea of being exposed to hard space is not terribly appealing to Toby. He doesn't do anything silly, like go pale or quake at the knees, but it's clear enough that he'll be avoiding that whenever he can. "Got it," he replies, then owns up to not quite getting it with the query, "although what do you mean by coming in hot?" He mostly keeps his eyes on Sera for the reply although he does glance quickly to Ajax to give him a short, sharp nod in understanding, "precisely."

Both brows arching up so high that they practically disappear under her bangs, which have been flattened by her helmet. While Sera says nothing in reply to Medvedev's comments about prior experience, she doesn't looked particularly impressed, either. Oooooh. Burn. "I mean, Shackleton, that you get birds that come in damaged, shot up, runnin' too fast, literally on fire. Their landin's ain't pretty an' the end up scrapin' the deck. Sometimes, when that happens, it ain't so bad. The LSO can guide 'em off for a gentler landin' when we get non-essential personnel an' other frames out of the way. Sometimes, you can't do a damned thing about it, 'cause gettin' the crew of a burnin' Raptor out alive takes priority over worryin' about who's goin' to get stuck poundin' the divots out of the deck."

"In short terms, she means when they're coming in frakked." Ajax adds back towards Toby, who he luckily knows. So-Sera and Toby would account for two of the people he knows on this ship. And a handful of medical personell. But, they're really blurs. "You just keep your eyes out and you'll be fine." A look is shot the PO1 before he is looking back to Sera. "Any pilots we have to watch out for. You know what I mean-the ones that frak with their birds and then come complaining when their gimble get's stuck or they get a missle locked, because they were frakkin' around during checks?" These are more important there as well.

Toby winces at the descriptive answer given but nods his understanding anyway. "Got it." He had 'handers are gods', but it's nice to get the other details too. Hands still in his pockets he shuts up again after that, figuring he'll go back to letting Ajax do the talking until there's something else he needs to query. Using the time as the other man speaks he glances round the area, trying to take in the details as much as he can.

"We've got a couple; a few months back, I got into it in the mess with Storm, Nags, and Buttons about them havin' special "projects" to work on, makin' some adjustments to the sims an' the Raptors. When I pointed out that since I can taxi a Viper down the runway, maybe I should take one out without asking.' Storm an' Nags jumped down my frakkin' throat. Nags threatened me with a court martial for commandeerin' aircraft. She's a bitch an' a half, but you can pretty much avoid her." She's guiding them past the elevators, towards the rows of birds lined up and sitting cold. Clearly, these are not the alert Vipers. They're nowhere near the tubes. "Then you've got Hipshot; he's Aquarian, so he keeps frakkin' with the internal temp controls on his Viper. It throws them off spec an' can mess with oxygen use calculations, but the only person he's riskin' there is him. So it's annoyin', it needs to be fixed, but it's mostly harmless."

Something is muttered in Sagitarran, a lyrical almost poetical insult, likely, but one word that Medvedev might say that is recognizeable would be Aquarian. With the rest he simply nods. "Well I'll keep my eyes and ears out." Which should be common place on a battlestar anyway. Still the tall and bald one of the trio now falls silent as he moves in to watch and keep an eye on Toby-and of course let the tech ask what questions might come to mind.

"And the rest of us if we lose his bird because he's being dumb," Toby replies, meaning Hipshot. "Oxygen calcs are damn tricky enough without someone fiddlin' with 'em ad hoc." It's certainly something he'll be watching ou for now though. He nods in agreement to Ajax's 'eyes and ears open' remark then takes a few moments as they walk to look at the vipers that they're passing.

"This is the hangar queen," Sera says, as she stops in front of one Viper with some scratched up paint and a few scrapes across her nose no one has bothered banging out and filing down. "She's finicky, a pain in the ass to work on, an' pretty much always has somethin' too loose, too tight, dried out, draggin' or cracked. You want to cuss her like she owes you money when you're tearin' her down, you go right ahead. But she flies true, she's seen the worst action of any frame we still have runnin', an' the old bitch refuses to die. Don't put somebody in her unless you have to, but you be good to her when you do. Ain't nobody died in her seat yet." There's a certain amount of begrudging affection in Sera's voice for the Viper, which she leans up against, like the bird's a grizzled old soldier everyone respects too much to blame for being as cranky as it is.

Toby pauses for a moment to take a proper look at the identified Viper and nod in acknowledgement to the explanation. "Got it," he states, still looking at the bird, "no pilot unless there nought else. Make damned sure she can fly again if you have to and they break her." Seems easy enough in theory. "How many do we have aboard?" he asks, tilting his head slightly in the direction of one of the less batters vipers before he starts slowly taking each on in in turn, almost as if he was looking for something in particular on them.

"A fully equipped Mercury-class battlestar like the Orion houses 180 Vipers, 40 Raptors, and 24 Predators. Due to combat losses an' maintenance rolls, we currently have functionin' 112 Vipers, 28 Raptors, an' 19 Predators." Shoving herself back off of the hangar queen, Sera begins gesturing towards the rows of each of each model as she speaks. "Some of the Raptors have been fitted with specific packages for specialized ops, so not every one can be sent on any ol' mission. They have a standard frame, but adjustable equipment."

"Hundred and twenty," Toby repeats, seemingly impressed by that number, then asks, "which get priority for work? I guess it depends in part on how many are signed-off at the time?" He glances to the Raptors as their specialisation is noted, tilting his head this way and that to try and see what differences he can make out from here before turning back to Sera and nodding his understanding.

"Pretty much, yeah, an' what breed of pilot we've got about at the time. Vipers are crewed by just one man; Raptors an' Predators both take a driver an' a backseater. You gotta qualify for what frame you fly, save the Preds. You're clear for either a Viper or a Raptor, you can fly 'em. The old man upstairs was a backseater on a Predator. You can still catch him in the sims sometimes, tryin' to keep up with the kids. Don't try to stop him. He's a crusty ol' thing an' won't listen, even after gettin' his ass kicked by the computer."

Toby hasn't, in truth, even thought to go anywhere near the flight simulators but he acknowledges the remark all the same, "I won't, I promise." He starts to look towards the vipers again then turns back to Sera, given theres no one else but her and Ajax within hearing distance thanks to the general noise level of the bay. "Does it annoy the pilots when they can't fly their own? Less so the Raptors cos of the specialisation, but the Vipers? I mean, if there's 120 then they're not likely to go short if their's goes down, but do they get on our backs about 'em?"

"It's pretty normal to have to fly another bird, with as often as we gotta do full checks on 'em," she says, shrugging only one shoulder. "But some of 'em get their hackles up about it. Of course, some of 'em get their hackles up if you look at 'em sideways. I mean, most of the deck crew you meet? They ain't in it for the glory. We're frakkin' mechanics for the most part, an' there ain't much of the way of heroics in that. Pilots are different breed. Some are good people. Some are prissy little prima donnas with pins 'cause their dear ol' daddy bought them a commission. Just ignore 'em; tellin' 'em to frak themselves won't get you anywhere but the brig, an' as much as some of 'em might like to wave their pins around, you report to the chief, not them. They outrank you, but they ain't your boss."

"Got it," Toby says again, it might be becoming something of a habit on the tour but it's quick and easy to get the message across. As it is, the half formed plan is his head might not be the cracker he thought it was, but as he mulls it over for a moment he still reckons it's a go-er. Keeping the conversation moving he adds, with a wry smile, "I'm guessing they don't like reminding they need us so they can keep flying either eh?"

"Nope," she says, her mouth forming an exaggerated "O" and dragging out the syllable. "But that's part of the deal. Workin' the LPA is pretty much a thankless job. You ain't goin' to get yourself too many medals down here, or much in the way of fancy ribbons to pin to your chest. But what we do is important, 'cause it lets them do what they do. An' just like us, that boils down to "keepin' folks alive". Just keep that in your head. If you know it, an' I know it, an' everybody on this deck knows, it'll get you through."

"Didn't sign-up for the medals," Toby answers, glance turning briefly to the hanger queen once more. "There's billions of souls out there screaming. Trapped. Ain't no way for them to find rest until every last frakking Toaster is dead." The emphasis is subtle, but it is there as he turns back to Sera once more. "We watch each other's backs, I know how that is."

There's a long pause, during which Sera is completely and utterly silent. It stretches out into awkwardness, especially because she's staring, almost unblinkingly, right into his face while it falls over them. "Good. The enlisted men, they aren't like the officers. A good chunk of us signed up to pay for school, or to feed families back home, or cause there weren't any jobs in their little town, or because three hots an' a cot sounded like a good deal, compared to what they were used to. You won't find some Caprican senator's son down here. You'll find farm boys from Aerilon, an' slum dogs from Mangala, an' rockhounds from Minos, an' the like. People from planets that were wiped out, or damned near. For most of 'em, the people on this ship's the only kind of "family" they got."

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