AWD #196: Safety Equipment Check
Safety Equipment Check
Summary: Phin gets his Viper seen to.
Date: 21/Jul/2013
Related Logs: None
Phin Toby 
Hangar 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 #196

Mid-shift on the hangar deck, which is thrumming along at the pace of constant activity that it generally does on the battlestar. Phin has just entered. He's presently making his way down the catwalk stairs. Dressed in duty greens rather than his flight gear, so his business here is theoretically of the non-flying variety.

Toby armed with his tools, a clipboard, a pen and determined look, Toby is working his way down a line of waiting Raptors. These aren't ones signed off for repair so it's apparently some other check. It only seems to take a minute or so for each bird as he ducks in, checks things then hits the deck again, making a quick scribble on his sheet as he moves to the next. At the end of the row he pauses a moment to straighten his back and crick his neck before he turns to head for the row behind, giving Phin a brief nod in acknowledgement as he spots the pilot.

"Hey, Crewman." Phin hangs about at the end of the Raptor line, seemingly waiting for Toby but not interrupting whatever he's doing with them. When the deckhand is seemingly not busy, he says, "Think I mentioned it before, but my Viper's due to have its survival and safety equipment checked. You got a second to go over that this shift? It doesn't need to be done immediate, but I would like to get it taken care of before I take her up again."

Toby glances to his list, then his watch, then back to his list again. Mulling the information gained for a moment he then does a couple of mental calculations then nods once, turning to Phin as he does so. "If you'd asked me a couple of hours ago I'd have said no, got a fair amount of stuff to cover for the next few days." Another quick check of the time and he adds, "looks like I'm ahead of schedule though so I reckon I might be able to squeeze you in." Noting the lack of flightsuit he asks, "you wanting to get it done now, or come back about an hour before shift change?"

"If you've got the time now, now's good for me," Phin says. "I'm on, but today's a 'take care of stuff that doesn't involve jocking' day. Got some maps of asteroid fields to go over later, but I figured I'd better get this done, too. I don't suppose you guys've got any coffee laying around that I could filch from?"

"Depends how closely you define coffee," Toby replies, looking faintly amused at the question. "If you don't mind it tasting more of tylium than coffee then there should be a pot on in the deck office, I'd give any mug you happen to find a good rinse out before using though." Taking a look over in the direction of the vipers he then asks, "where are you parked? I'll need to go grab a different load of tools but I can meet you there once you've braved the coffee."

Phin laughs. "I'm not picky. If you've got styrofoam, I can deal with that." He angles toward the office first, to suss out this caffeine situation, though he gestures a thumb toward a line of Vipers as he does so. "Over there. Should be tagged for refueling today."

"Styrofoam, wise choice," Toby agrees with a nod before following the line of Phin's thumb and giving another nod to confirm he's got it. Heading to a locker he ditches one set of tools, collects another and grabs a couple of sheets of paper, clipping them on top of those he was just commenting on. A double check he has what he needs then he's off towards the waiting fighters, scanning the line until he gets to the one in question.

Phin doesn't take too long in getting his coffee, which he takes a few quick sips of without too much grimacing. He's steeled to the quality of brew in the battlestar's public pots. That done, he strides over to meet Toby at his Viper. "Just need a standard inventory of the survival packs. And checks of some of the gear, like fire suppression. Something in the cockpit bursts into flames, want to make sure the extinguisher works."

Toby holds the clipboard up so Phin can see he has attached a standard inspection checklist for just said systems, the Navy runs on paperwork after all. Retrieving the pen from behind his ear he fills in the boxes at the top; name, date, viper, and so on before raising an eyebrow briefly as the pilot finishes, "I don't think me and the fire extinguishers are on speaking terms at the moment Lieutenant, but I'll take a look and see what's what." Scanning down the list he pauses close to the bottom and adds, "you want your seat servicing too, chute and all that, or are you happy with that? It's not due for another month or so, but I can take it apart if you don't mind that it'll then take a while to put back together after."

Phin leans over to take a look at the checklist, scanning it and nodding. "That'll cover it." He considers the question about his chute. "Actually, yeah, if you've got the time, would be good to get the ejection stuff checked. We're due to go back into the asteroid fields soon. It's really touching flying in there so…bailing is occasionally necessary. Thanks." The bit about fire extinguishers gets a chuckle, if a puzzled one. "How do you get into an argument with one of those?"

"You mount it in a brace that has bolts rubbing up against the cylinder," Toby starts to explain as he moves to do the exterior visual inspection. "Turns out if you leave 'em in one of those long enough then they start to develop fractures and then when you move it to give it an inspection it fails, expels all the pressurised gas out of the newly created hole and propels itself several metres across the deck." Ducking under the viper's nose he glances back to the pilot, "the trick I've found at that point is not to be standing in front of it when it goes." Then back to the job at hand he completes the circuit of the craft and makes a small scribble on the sheet. "Just make sure you bring this beast back in better shape than Raynor managed," he offers, moving on to unscrew a panel on the underside of the fuselage and have a peer at the innards uncovered, "I think all we salvaged from that was spares, and most of them only fit for the Hanger Queen."

"Damn!" Phin takes a deep gulp of his coffee, despite the taste. Like he wants to finish it before something maybe explodes out of his Viper's survival systems. "Were you OK? That sounds like it'd sting." He winces at mention of Raynor. "He took some nasty hits our last time out. Still don't know why all those Raiders were patrolling out there. I want to take another look at the tapes from our Vipers before we make another run. Maybe we can zero in on whatever they're interested in out in the rocks. If it's anything at all. Might've just been a random Cylon run, and they just found our scouting party at the right time."

"More than sting, given the mass and pressure of those things," Toby answer seriously, still poking around in the underside as he does so. "Thankfully though I was to one side, just caught a bit of shrapnel from the join at the base as it went by." He holds up his off hand at the point, although it's gloved and so reveals precisely sod all. A few notes are made and then he's replacing the panel again and moving forwards to one on the side, and just behind the cockpit. "I take it it's not a belt full or useful ores?" he asks, figuring they'd have that worked out by now if it was, "strategic value for something? They're hiding something in there maybe?" It's all idle speculation of course, and most of his attention is on the job at hand, but conversation is conversation.

"Nothing they couldn't get more easily on the colonies themselves," Phin says. "They could be hiding a lot of stuff in there, though. Those belts are huge, and tricky to navigate even if you know what you're doing. I figure there's a reason they're bothering with patrols of the size we ran into, but we haven't gotten in deep enough to figure out what yet. We'll see what we'll see." He follows along with Toby's work inside his cockpit, though he tries to avoid getting in the man's way. "That sounds nasty. About the extinguisher, I mean. Glad it wasn't worse."

Spotting another tech strolling past, Toby corners her briefly to operate one of the small deck cranes and having replaced the panel on the viper's side, hauls himself up onto the ship's nose to attach the strops to the ejector seat and then reach into the bottom of the cockpit to manually release the bolts that hold it in position. Giving the all clear to winch away he gives Phin a brief nod, "You and me both." Once the seat is safely on the deck beside the viper and his fellow tech departed he slides himself into the space vacated in the cockpit and gets down to the next set of checks. "Seems a reasonable assumption," he then starts, "I mean, if there were a frakton of them there then surely there must be a reason." He's assuming at this point that the viper pilots can distinguish between an ordinary patrol and an oddly large one, "only way to find out what is go back? Or is there a chance that those of their colleagues onboard might know what it is they're doing there?" Cos you know, he's entirely up for beating up a skinjob or two on the chance they have information they haven't shared.

"It might be worth asking, but I think Tactical's worked them over for intel on the situation back in Colonial space. And from what I understand our commanders have trickled that down if we've needed it. Should check before we jump off again, though." Phin keeps his tone about the skinjobs carefully neutral. The things make him uncomfortable, but it's hard to tell much about his feelings beyond that. He watches Toby work on the ejector curiously. "Things look OK so far?"

There's a snort from Toby, that likely says all it needs to about his opinions on the kind of thing Tactical is likely to have done and then flow of information from command, as far as he is concerned. He's not about to say anything though, even to the only viper pilot he has in the 'not a dick' category. Pilots are officers after all. "Looking good so far," he offers, happy enough to accept the change of topic. "Who ever installed you spare O2 cylinder had an.. interesting.. take on the specs, but it's intact and reachable so I can still pass it." Sticking his head back up above the rim of the cockpit he adds, "you ever use it? I mean, I could change it if you want, but it'd mean taking signing her off until there was time to, but if you're used to it where it is then there's no harm it staying there."

Phin is highly content not to press the matter of the skinjobs, or how Tactical is handling them. Thankfully, that's still below his paygrade. Such as the paygrades are nowadays, with the state of payroll back at Fleet Headquarters. "Is it functional?" he asks, as to the spare O2 cylinder. "That's all I'm concerned about. It's always worked fine, in terms of keeping me breathing. Least so far as I can tell. There's a lot about how the guts of these things work that I don't really get."

"Doesn't hamper functionality," Toby replies with a faint nod, "just means it's slightly harder to get out to refill or replace." With Phin seemingly happy though he marks it off on the list and moves on, ducking back down once more, "any issues with seat stability?" he calls out, "the bolts hold it still for you in flight? No rocking or such?"

Phin nods short about the cylinder. It can stay as is, far as he's concerned. "Nah, it feels real stable when I'm flying," he says. "Never had to use it in this bird, thank gods. I've only had to bail in-flight once. Over an asteroid field, actually." He smirks. "That bird we didn't get back." He says that half-apologetically.

After checking a few more things, including the fire extinguisher and it's mount, Toby seems happy enough that all in the cockpit is as it should be and prises himself out onto the nose once again. "Just try not to make a habit of it okay," he replies with a faint smile, then slides off to land on the deck near the ejector seat, "although to be fair, with the factory we can replace a few vipers now and again, it's the Raptors we struggle with." He the expert, who's been here all of what, four or five months? Lifting the seat box out of the chair he starts with that, running a quick inventory of the goodies stored within it, emergency rations, torch, knife, first aid kit, and numerous other things that are useful when bailing out in atmo but not so much in space.

"I'll try and keep the rebuilding work to a bare minimum, anyway," Phin says. "Less painful for both of us that way." The kit is stocked as it should, though the knife looks like a personal item rather than anything standard-issue. It's a higher-end military utility model than is typically outfitted for the kits. All sorts of extra attachments, and it looks carefully maintained.

Toby eyes the knife approvingly for a moment before replacing it and ticking it off on the inventory. "Definitely," he agrees, then sets the seatbox to one side and turns to the chair itself, dropping down onto his knees to start taking various bits of it apart. "This bit might take some time," he states simply, "unless I didn't disarm the rockets properly, in which case it'll all be over very shortly." It seems though that he did, for nothing explodes in his face as he works. "Which system is this asteroid belt in?" he then asks, aiming to strike up conversation again, "astronavigation was never my thing. First time I ever left Tauron was early on War Day, and even then I only made it as far as Picon."

Phin grins slightly when he sees Toby checking out the knife. "Got that as a gift last Saturnalia. From one of the other pilots, actually. Talkshow." He sounds for a moment like he expects Toby to recognize the name, though after a thought his smile fades, and he amends, "You wouldn't know him. He was one of the guys here with the initial tour. Died on War Day, over Caprica." Shrug. As for the asteroid belt. "There are a couple we're supposed to finish scouting, but the one we're due into next is in the Beta system. Ouranos Belt, between Leonis and Virgon. Parts of it are supposedly mined. From back when those two worlds used to war with each other, before unification, and the Colonial government never got around to removing some of them. We haven't got in deep enough to have to worry about those yet." Not something he sounds like he's looking forward to.

Toby doesn't recognise the name, although when the full explanation is given he nods in understanding. Definitely before his time, several months so infact. "Out Troy way?" he asks, seemingly recalling that it was those two colonies that had battled over the small moon. His history of anything but Tauron and Minos is sketchy at best though, so he simply nods to the rest before offering, "maybe the toasters found the mines and figure we're hiding something in there. Would be nice if wasted a load of ships and time over a defunct field." There's still no sign of imminent explosions from the ejector seat as he tilts it backwards a little to check on the manual pull chord, then sets it right again before moving round to the back to continue the inspection.

Phin half-smiles. "Maybe they'll run into a few of them. Do some 'clearing' for us." The young lieutenant's not really given to fierceness. He could be called mild-mannered for a Viper pilot, at least outwardly. But there's a flash in his eyes and expression of pleasure at the idea of Raiders immolating themselves on old Colonial munitions. About Troy, he shrugs and nods as he watches Toby work on the seat. "Same system, though I don't know that I'd call them exactly proximate. Virgon and Leonis used to fight over everything out there. It's weird when you think about it. How we've only actually been united since the Cylon Wars." He corrects himself, "First Cylon Wars."

«And some of us more united than others,» Toby mutters to himself in his native tongue before switching back to standard, "weird indeed." He gives a few nods at the comments about Leonis and Virgon, although if he's honest it's not something that terribly interests him, beyond a being something to pass the time as he works. "Where's the other belt then?" he asks, reaching for a screw to reattach the control unit for the automatic firing system.

"What did that mean?" Phin asks, sounding curious. "I don't speak Tauron." Though he at least knows the sound of it enough to recognize the language. As for the other belts, "We've still got some mop-up work to finish out in the Acheron Belt, in Helios Gamma. That's three-quarters already done, though, so it's just a matter of filling in the spots we've missed and checking for new Cylon activity. Ouranos is going to be the job."

Toby buys himself a few moments to think of a plausible answer by looking like he's concentrating on a particular set of attachments for the series of straps that keep the pilot in the chair post ejection. "Hmm?" he then asks, turning back to Phin as he does so, "oh, just a saying about Unification. It doesn't translate terribly well I'm afraid." Nodding to the reply about the other belt he turns back to the straps again, "I guess you'll finish that when the next recon heads that way? I hear the new DCAG is keen to get those done." He just about manages to keep his tone light and conversational, but he regrets saying it as soon as the words leave him as for a moment or two all he can think of is Minos and he then has to force himself to concentrate on the task at hand and not get riled up.

"Okay…" Phin sounds sceptical of Toby's translation, but he doesn't press. As for the recons, he just nods. "Most of them're jobs for the Raptor crews. Better sensors, ability to jump if things get nasty. They can't really get into the asteroid belts, though. It's tight flying. So Vipers head out with a carrier. Launch, get in, look around, get out, is the idea." He seems to sense he's put his foot wrong, but isn't sure quite how, so he just busies himself with finishing his coffee.

Toby finishes up from the back of the seat and reaches for his clipboard once again." Seems a reasonable plan," he offers as he makes a few more scribbles on the form then pushes himself to his feet. Taking a moment to glance round at the deck near his feet to double check that everything he took off the chair has gone back on he then offers both clipboard and pen to Phin. "If you want to have a look down that, check you're happy with it and then sign at the bottom, I'll go grab someone to help get this reinstalled. Then you'll be ready to go."

Phin gulps, without even wincing, cold as the nasty-to-begin-with coffee now is. "Cool." He takes the clipboard to check it over, scanning it with more attention to some items than others, before nodding and passing it back to Toby. "That sounds good. Thanks. There anything you guys need from us? In terms of maintaining the equipment or anything."

"Well, it'd make our lives an awful lot easier if you lot just stayed on deck 2 and never touched anything down here," Toby replies, as he finds a willing volunteer to operate the crane again. "Don't reckon that'd win either of us any points with them on high though." Hauling himself back up into a position where he can help guide the seat back into position he glances down to the pilot once more. "Mostly it's just a case of doing your checks and filling in the post-flights properly. Earlier we know about a potential issue the easier it is for us to fix."

"I meant more in terms of inventory, honestly," Phin says. "And tracking system readings. Stuff like that. I don't fancy myself an engineer. I got the grades I needed to in those areas, but my degree's in history." He smirks. "And I know exactly as much about it as that implies. Anyway. Gotcha. I'll stick with the post-flight stuff, let you guys know if anything seems off."

Toby listens to Phin as he reattaches the bolts and rearms the ejector rockets, although he doesn't actually say anything until he's certain that's done and is jumping back down onto the deck again. "Thanks for the thought Lieutenant," he starts, "but it's best we do them ourselves, that way we're not having to second guess if something has been done or not." Taking the clipboard and pen his shoves the later behind his ear briefly as he scans his notes, then retrieves it again so he can sign the bottom to state that he's happy with it all. Turning back to Phin once more he asks, "anything else I can do for you?"

Phin shrugs and nods. "Gotcha. Nah, that should do for now. Thanks." He switches his disposable cup to his off-hand (he's a righty) and extends the other to the deckhand. For shaking purposes. "Should go look at my maps of rocks. Hope the rest of the shift treats you well."

Toby attempts to come up with a humorous pun about rocks but fails and so simply takes Phin's hand with his own, gloved one. "Same to you," he then offers before giving the pilot a brief nod and starting towards the deck office so he can file the inspection paperwork and maybe even have a cup of coffee himself.

"Later." Phin takes his leave of the deck on that note. Disposing of his disposable cup in the provided trash bins like the polite young officer that he is.

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