Deck Crew
18 Oct 2022MdN
The Fleet Carrier flew no flag. It's allegience was a mystery to anyone stumbling across it. The name plates on its sides were blank, it's ident just a random selection of letters and numbers that would trace back to nothing. It was hiding in deep space, somewhere within the Reorte system.Nothing would stumble across it of course, the four "Gremlins" would see to that.
Deck Officer Malcolm McLaughlin was having a busy shift; 'just like these fighter jocks,' he reminded himself. In front of him were the four battered Vultures of Red Wing, freshly returned from the conflict close to Almagro Port. They'd been delivered to his engineering teams by the heavy duty lifts that brought them down from top-side.
McLaughlin's men had jumped on the Vultures before the lifts had even stopped moving. They crawled over the hulls, inspected them for damage, and ejected half empty ammo pods to the floor with a clang. They'd be replaced with fresh.
It was the same scene replayed every few minutes. The Wolf Pack were due to arrive next, and McLaughlin needed Red Wing gone and the deck swept clean before their arrival.
"Come on boys, let's get these birds reloaded ASAP."
They were on the clock, every iteration was timed, every mistake logged for later analysis to speed work flow. Earlier that day, their relief team had beaten McLaughlin's long-standing carrier record for a wing turn-round, his team was determined to claim that back. Competition kept the deck crews alert, it was their way to contribute to the war effort. Each crew fought hard for the top spot.
BEEP!
McLaughlin jumped out of the way as a weapons cart's horn startled him from behind. Red 3 had reported a miss-firing pulse laser, the repair crew was headed his way. "No doubt he melted it," McLaughlin shouted to them as they passed. Sustained fire with a pair of large lasers was a known weakness of the Vulture. It simply didn't have the capacity to cope with the heat. Red 3 was the only one to opt for that loadout, a poor choice, McLaughlin had said so. "Any other time and I'd rip him a new one for damaging equipment like that."
He made a mental note to talk to the kid about it.
"Damn," he swore at Madeline, who didn't even look up from her console, "switching out that mech is going to cost us a few minutes." Madeline was too busy on the radio, discussing damage reports with the approaching Wolf Pack to care. He glanced at the board to see what she'd logged for them.
"Nothing. Yeehah," he high-fived her. "That's how the pro's do things." Cochrane's Wolf Pack understood the logistics of war fighting. The young hoodlums of Red Wing were too eager; they still thought wars were won by heroism and often dived in without thinking. Maybe he'd ask Cochrane to have a word with Red 3 instead.
A couple of minutes later and their work was done; the pulse laser mech replaced, ammo reloaded, and all the birds full of fuel. Well outside record time, but the Wolves would give them a better shot. The lifts carried the Vultures topside once more leaving the deck crew in clouds of gas released from the hydraulic lifts. They battled throught it, wafting it out of the way while walking the deck, stalking anything that might get sucked into an engine or lodged in an ammo belt. Wolf Pack would be with them any minute.
Lights changed from amber to green above each pit area once each team deemed their area clear for its next occupant.
McLaughlin looked at Madeline who nodded back: "Final approach," she told him with a thumbs up." They were just in time.
"Hydration, gentlemen," he shouted down the line. "Look after yourselves while you can, we need a fast turn around on this one."
Deck crew was a tough job in a conflict.