YE/D99 - Ancillary Locations

[Paul]

==

[Flint Chertstone]

== Deck 4 – Port Weapons Maintenance ==

The week between the their arrival and the subsequent race seemed to have flown by. Flint had been granted some extra shore leave, but he was already back on duty. Ships systems didn't regulate themselves.
Aside from flying the ship, tactical were responsible for maintaining weapons and defence systems working alongside the engineering teams. And Flint being non-commissioned had found himself assigned to running a diagnostic on the port side forward phaser array.

As they were effectively in dock, shifts were light. Four on four off. And he was scheduled to meet up with some of his new friends later to watch a few of the smaller local races and discuss some design ideas he had for his own racer. And maybe something else...
The local drinks were a little on the strong side he'd discovered on he first night, and they had gone some way to cementing relations with the locals.

The unofficial tour he'd given to the pilot of the Tusslebout still hadn't been brought up. Yet. But since that tour consisted of Sickbay and some unoccupied quarters, he was half sure he'd got away with it.

As the diagnostic finished its cycle, he checked off the box and looked up what his next task was to be. If anything he was all in all, quite content.

[Flint Chertstone]

The list of tasks on the PADD scrolled over several pages. Given the trial that the Yeager had gone through it was surprising that it wasn't longer he thought as he went to tap the completed tab and select the next when...

[Johnson to Chertstone.]

“Chertstone. What's up Sally?” He replied tapping his badge.

[We got a message here that you're wanted in the main briefing room.]

“Okay... Any specifics I need to know?”

[Nope. Nothing here. Just a text message.]

“Okay then. Cheers for that. If I don't come back. You know what to do.”

There was a pause. [I'm not deleting your browsing history. Again.]

“In that case, wish me luck. Chertstone out.” He said cutting the connection before packing up his toolkit.

>> Briefing Room. >>

[Scarlett Papaver]

== Deck 10 - Port side ==
== NRC – PO3 Bailey Crescent – Human Security ==
== NRC – PO3 Gra'Mex ch'Torg – Engineer – Andorian Chan ==

As was her lot in life, Bailey had once again drawn the roving patrol for her shift. At least she was getting her steps in, she mused as she wished she'd fitted some new insoles into her boots that morning.

Rounding the corner on deck ten, she almost tripped over the scattered tools which littered the walkway. Instead punting a flux coupler further down the corridor.

“Hey, be careful. I'm busy here!” exclaimed the butt of an engineer hanging out of the open access panel.

“”Well maybe you should be more tidy.” Crescent responded as she went to retrieve the tool. “I could have fallen over and broken my neck.”

As she said the last part, she already knew how stupid she sounded.

“But you didn't.” Said the Andorian who had now emerged from the hatch and took the tool from her. He gave an annoyed sign as he regarded the tool. “And now I need to recalibrate this. Here...”

From his other hand he produced a gel pack. It was dark on colour, and seemed to be leaking. He tossed it toward Crescent leaving her little option but to grab it with enough force to eject some of the gel forcibly enough to spray her uniform.

“What the hell is this?” she asked slightly revolted by the material.

“Faulty gel pack. Just got to clean up the gunk and install a new one. Don't get any on you. It'll turn you blue” He explained deadpan as he held up his hands palm first toward the security officer. Before he cracked into a smile.

Bailey looked at her hands now covered in slime. They were still pink. Though her uniform had turned green in random splodges.

She was not impressed. “Just get it fixed and tidy this...” She gestured to the scattered tools. “Mess up. And what do I do with this?” She sniffed her hand. It made her want to gag. In reflex, she wiped her hand on her sleeve, and realised the mistake as the green staining began forming there too.

“Put it in the bucket.” Gestured ch'Torg to a receptacle on the opposite side of the corridor.

“Why's it over here?” She asked. “Shouldn't you have this nearer?”

“No. I might have knocked it over and got the gel on me. It would ruin my uniform.”

Crescent locked the Andorian with a look that would have killed if she could have. Really!

The Andorian seemed oblivious as he retrieved a rag and the replacement pack from his kit and disappeared back into the hatch. Reappearing less than ten seconds later.

“There we go. All done.” He tapped his badge. “ch'Torg to Engineering. Pack 762/10F replaced. Please run diagnostic. Out.”

Then he looked at Crescent. “I have three more of these to do down on deck eleven. Want to help? Since you're already covered. I can show you how to disconnect them on your own if you need to.”

“Who is your supervisor, exactly?” Bailey managed as calmly as she could through gritted teeth..