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Flight Deck is a part of 
EDF Atlas.
2 Characters Here
Jason "Digger" Mieczyslawa [20] You scratched up his paint job. Again.
Mackenzie "Blades" Hawkins [16] Brash and fiery pilot aboard the EDF Atlas
Start Character Here »
- 47 posts here • Page 2 of 2 • 1, 2
Mackenzie raised her hand to touch fingers to the side of her temple. She could decide what hurt more -- the fingers, the temple, or the arm that had to move all of it into position. The pain was less of a searing stab and more of an intense soreness, the likes of which she'd not experienced save for their first year as Combat Aviation ACATS when every pilot had to go through an atmospheric ejection. She'd been sore for weeks.
"I was...going back to get my flight log...I think," Blades winced. "There was a tech. Didn't recognize him, but I just figured that was because I don't know half the greasemonkeys on this tub." There was the attitude that was sorely missing, no pun intended. At least that much of the girl wasn't broken.
"Did we get him? Got more than a few things I'd like to give him."
"I was...going back to get my flight log...I think," Blades winced. "There was a tech. Didn't recognize him, but I just figured that was because I don't know half the greasemonkeys on this tub." There was the attitude that was sorely missing, no pun intended. At least that much of the girl wasn't broken.
"Did we get him? Got more than a few things I'd like to give him."
Digger shook his head slowly. "No, we didn't. At least, not that I saw; it's not likely that he survived the blast, though." He rubbed his chin, slowly. "When we arrived, we had to actually cut the arms of the door to get in; the explosion fucked them up so bad. Had to actually push down our own damn door. The explosion got Stephanie; she's just about irreparable now. She'll need a new ignition coil, for sure. The bulkhead took the brunt of the... aw, hell. She's bad."
He shrugged. "My point is, with both the lander down for the count, Stephanie and two other Angels shot to hell, and the door being broke? Doubt something like that would've made the man live. An' if he ain' dead, he'll wish he was."
He reached into his pocket, pulling out a sticky, squished energy bar. "Here." He said, offering to her. "It's my last one.:"
He shrugged. "My point is, with both the lander down for the count, Stephanie and two other Angels shot to hell, and the door being broke? Doubt something like that would've made the man live. An' if he ain' dead, he'll wish he was."
He reached into his pocket, pulling out a sticky, squished energy bar. "Here." He said, offering to her. "It's my last one.:"
Blades managed to smile at the gesture of kindness between stick jockeys and grease monkeys, thinking maybe she'd finally managed to find someone on this boat that didn't make her wish like hell she was still in the middle of the retreating force on the Endeavor.
Then she immediately leaned over to the other direction and threw up.
Any good doctor worth her salt and not in the middle of a hostage crisis would have seen that coming as the pilot's body reacted to the trauma of the situation and sheer force to which her body had been subjected. Needless to say, this was turning into a banner day for Mackenzie Hawkins.
"Help me up," she said in a voice that perfectly walked the line between some completely pitiful and someone you did not want to cross, "and get me back to the officer's racks."
Then she immediately leaned over to the other direction and threw up.
Any good doctor worth her salt and not in the middle of a hostage crisis would have seen that coming as the pilot's body reacted to the trauma of the situation and sheer force to which her body had been subjected. Needless to say, this was turning into a banner day for Mackenzie Hawkins.
"Help me up," she said in a voice that perfectly walked the line between some completely pitiful and someone you did not want to cross, "and get me back to the officer's racks."
As she upchucked, Digger leaned backwards, wrinkling his nose as the bile spewed out, and then did a double take as she asked the question. Digger raised an eyebrow, glanced down towards his missing leg, and then back towards Blades. "Askin' a cripple to walk places?" He queried. "You must be out of it."
Nevertheless, he hopped to his feet, using the crutch with an ease that told of his many years experience. Once he got himself settled, he looked down at her.
"I can't imagine that you walkin' right now is the best of ideas, Blades. Just thought I should get that on record before I get whipped by a medical professional or something."
He then offered a callused hand, down towards the Pilot Puky.
Nevertheless, he hopped to his feet, using the crutch with an ease that told of his many years experience. Once he got himself settled, he looked down at her.
"I can't imagine that you walkin' right now is the best of ideas, Blades. Just thought I should get that on record before I get whipped by a medical professional or something."
He then offered a callused hand, down towards the Pilot Puky.
Using the man's offered hand and braced leg, Mackenzie Hawkins pulled herself to a standing position, taking a moment to grab her bearings again. Eventually, the world would have to stop spinning, she was sure of it. Considering how much of her hurt with every move, every step, every breath, every blink, the pilot knew that she shouldn't feel as, well, high-spirited as she did. Still, she was alive. That had to count for something.
"You're right. How inconsiderate of me, Chief. Why don't I see if I can't help you along. Maybe I'll even arrange to clear the deck and we'll get a wheelchair ballgame going for you?" Half leaning on Digger and half on the wall, Blades waited until things finally righted themselves before she took a step.
"The XO is gonna have my ass. Yours too just for talking to me, you know that?"
"You're right. How inconsiderate of me, Chief. Why don't I see if I can't help you along. Maybe I'll even arrange to clear the deck and we'll get a wheelchair ballgame going for you?" Half leaning on Digger and half on the wall, Blades waited until things finally righted themselves before she took a step.
"The XO is gonna have my ass. Yours too just for talking to me, you know that?"
The deck chief couldn't help but let out a dark guffaw at the notion of him playing wheelchair basketball. "Lady, I have a bona fide reason not to exercise any more." He grinned, tapping the stump of his leg with the crutch, slightly changing their balance for a moment. "Why on earth would I go out of my way to ruin such a good thing? 'Sides. I'd hate to embarrass all the other cripples aboard."
At her statement, his countenance darkened considerably. "Fuck the XO." He said, simply. "With all do respect t' the man, a bomb just went off in my flight deck. So I'm not exactly concerned with protocol, or rules, or any damn thing we may be under at this time."
"'Sides," he went on, "Your a pilot. That makes ya one o' my top priorities. If you ain' happy, you'll take it out on my birds. And the last thing I need is you stick-jockeys fuckin' up any more of my girls."
At her statement, his countenance darkened considerably. "Fuck the XO." He said, simply. "With all do respect t' the man, a bomb just went off in my flight deck. So I'm not exactly concerned with protocol, or rules, or any damn thing we may be under at this time."
"'Sides," he went on, "Your a pilot. That makes ya one o' my top priorities. If you ain' happy, you'll take it out on my birds. And the last thing I need is you stick-jockeys fuckin' up any more of my girls."
"You know Chief," Hawkins said with a slight grimace as she started to walk out the soreness with every step, "one of these days we're going to find you a nice girl, preferrably one that doesn't weight a couple thousand pounds and must leave you with one hell of a chafe."
Kaito Narito, the executive officer of the Atlas, was as old school as the ship herself. Back on the Endeavor, Mackenzie had been used to the XO who was much more of a facilitator, a calm-demeanored man who conducted every exercise as though it was a business transaction. Rimmed glasses and a data pad with him all the time. Much easier to get along with.
Still, as much as she'd grown to dread every encounter with Narita, she couldn't deny that she'd much rather have the new XO in a fight. If they could find someone to fight other than each other.
"To tell ya the truth, Chief, I'm starting to get the feeling that this whole thing was one big wild goose chase. They could really use us back in the real fight back home right now."
Kaito Narito, the executive officer of the Atlas, was as old school as the ship herself. Back on the Endeavor, Mackenzie had been used to the XO who was much more of a facilitator, a calm-demeanored man who conducted every exercise as though it was a business transaction. Rimmed glasses and a data pad with him all the time. Much easier to get along with.
Still, as much as she'd grown to dread every encounter with Narita, she couldn't deny that she'd much rather have the new XO in a fight. If they could find someone to fight other than each other.
"To tell ya the truth, Chief, I'm starting to get the feeling that this whole thing was one big wild goose chase. They could really use us back in the real fight back home right now."
The chief chuckled as they made their progress, stepping onto an elevator at the end of the corridor. The machine sported fresh repairs; shiny and glossy in places where it was once a uniform and gunmetal grey. "Nah. Non-mechanical girls don' interest me too much, if I'm honest. They have things called "feelings" and "expectations". I prefer my lovely ladies that soar and glide through space, you know? Especially the ones that Mr. Roamer happens to abuse most of the time. And you too, as it turns out. Where'd you all learn to fly, anyway? Culinary school?"
As the elevator began delivering them to the upper floors, taking them away from the decks, up through the levels of the ship. "Don't I know it, lady." He watched the ceiling of the car, as the elevator slowed and opened with a soft ding. "Don't I know it."
As the elevator began delivering them to the upper floors, taking them away from the decks, up through the levels of the ship. "Don't I know it, lady." He watched the ceiling of the car, as the elevator slowed and opened with a soft ding. "Don't I know it."
The lifting sensation of the elevator was enough to bring back all the dizziness and nausea she thought she'd left in a puddle near the match hatch combing leading onto the Flight Deck. Her mind immediately flashed back to another time she'd felt the same wrenching of her gut -- coming back from a long five-point training flight only to find that instead of Triton Station, she was greeted by a handful of escape crafts, debris, and a lot of questions.
"Better lock that up saying anything about the Station, Chief. You can't run too fast and I'm not afraid to hit ladies and gimps," she said, trying to keep her wits about her although it was clear that the color from her face was fading fast again.
"Better lock that up saying anything about the Station, Chief. You can't run too fast and I'm not afraid to hit ladies and gimps," she said, trying to keep her wits about her although it was clear that the color from her face was fading fast again.
An eyebrow arch. "Well, lady, I doubt in your condition you could dent something that hasn't been dented before." When the doors opened, they were on the Officer's landing - or, at least that's what Digger called it. It was filled with men and women that he'd never been in close contact with; so far above him on the chain of command that he never really dealt with them directly. Stepping out of the elevator, he made his way toward the Officer's Racks.
"How are you holdin' up, Blades? Gonna pass out on me? I ain't dragging your ass all the way over there."
"How are you holdin' up, Blades? Gonna pass out on me? I ain't dragging your ass all the way over there."
The Titan-class boats like the Atlas didn't much care for luxurious accomodations or providing much more than the bare necessities needed by the "modern fighting man" in the ever-progressive Earth Defense Force. Only the most senior of officers warranted private quarters, that being the Captain, Executive Officer, and a few others that were dictated special quarters in special areas of the ship, such as the Chief Medical Officer.
Blades was used to the drill. Back on Triton Station, the gender lines had largely been erased. Of course, that had been thanks to drugs that had been used to suppress the natural sexual urges and development of the cadets during their teenage years, something that probably would have caused much more of a ruckus when discovered had it not been for the destruction of the Station and the outbreak of war. As such, Mackenzie Hawkins had been bunking next to and showering with the opposite sex for the better part of ten years now and hardly blinked an eye at the like anymore. Some of the enlisted had this idea that officers lived in a different world. They were wrong.
"I'm fine, really," she said as they stepped out, taking a moment to balance herself on the edge of the elevator door. "So this is what a girl has to do to get some rack time around here?"
Blades was used to the drill. Back on Triton Station, the gender lines had largely been erased. Of course, that had been thanks to drugs that had been used to suppress the natural sexual urges and development of the cadets during their teenage years, something that probably would have caused much more of a ruckus when discovered had it not been for the destruction of the Station and the outbreak of war. As such, Mackenzie Hawkins had been bunking next to and showering with the opposite sex for the better part of ten years now and hardly blinked an eye at the like anymore. Some of the enlisted had this idea that officers lived in a different world. They were wrong.
"I'm fine, really," she said as they stepped out, taking a moment to balance herself on the edge of the elevator door. "So this is what a girl has to do to get some rack time around here?"
Digger waited for her to gain her balance properly before continuing through the short corridor, whistling lowly to himself as he looked around. He didn't like visiting the upper decks of the Atlas - he communicated almost exclusively through radio, memos, and his subordinates; devoting most, if not all, of his time to the Flight deck. At this stage in the Atlas's flight, it was more than understood why he never surfaced; with the amount of repairs that were needed on almost a monthly basis, he'd let the face-to-face time slip a little bit, the official reasoning for it being "increased need for hands-on work."
As he stepped into the racks area, he glanced around at the various bunks, noting how similar they were to his own downstairs. "Hmph. Was picturing nicer digs." He murmured, before stepping further into the area. "Where is yours?"
As he stepped into the racks area, he glanced around at the various bunks, noting how similar they were to his own downstairs. "Hmph. Was picturing nicer digs." He murmured, before stepping further into the area. "Where is yours?"
Ducking down and gingerly swinging her body through the hatch combing that led into the pilot's racks, she pulled back the curtain and did her best not to completely collapse into the bed even though it was clear that the trip had exhausted her, just walking and riding in an elevating. Being knocked back thirty feet by a suicide bomber tended to have that effect on most people, she guessed.
"Home sweet home," she said, slowly lifting her booted leg up. A few pictures were stuck into the corners around the mirror, one of a much younger Mackenzie and a few others near the same age, all somewhere around eleven or twelve. Not long before SAPS would have sent her to the Station for officer training. Other than that, her area was fairly spartan. One had to be reminded that she'd barely had time to settle in to the Atlas. Unlike so many others, this place hadn't been her home from months or years.
"While you're here," she said, pointing to an upper rack on the opposite wall, "reach into that rack and get another one of those bars. He thinks I don't know about his stash." The rack of course, had the same sticker label as the fighter. Lt. Com. A. Morrow.
"Home sweet home," she said, slowly lifting her booted leg up. A few pictures were stuck into the corners around the mirror, one of a much younger Mackenzie and a few others near the same age, all somewhere around eleven or twelve. Not long before SAPS would have sent her to the Station for officer training. Other than that, her area was fairly spartan. One had to be reminded that she'd barely had time to settle in to the Atlas. Unlike so many others, this place hadn't been her home from months or years.
"While you're here," she said, pointing to an upper rack on the opposite wall, "reach into that rack and get another one of those bars. He thinks I don't know about his stash." The rack of course, had the same sticker label as the fighter. Lt. Com. A. Morrow.
Diggers nodded at her advice, leaning forward and squinting at the name for a moment before grinning wildly. True to form, any opportunity to get under the young Lieutenant Commander's skin was taken with relish. Turning from her (a few second-long process, seeing as he had to manoeuvre with the crutch) he moved the short walk to the opposing bunk, reaching into it with a fishing hand, his bottom lip clenched between his teeth. Finding what he was looking for, he retrieved one of the candy bars and brought it back towards the wounded pilot, tossing it lightly on her lap.
"You earned that one." He said, grinning. He turned back, fished another from the stash, and pocketed it. Hell, maybe he'd eat it in front of the El-Tee the next time he had a chance. He turned back towards Blades, folding his hands as best he could through the crutch, his own exhaustion becoming evident in the dark circles beneath his eyes.
"Anythin' else you need from me, Gimpy? Or can I go back to work?" The faux annoyance was disrupted by the smile fighting to be shown.
"You earned that one." He said, grinning. He turned back, fished another from the stash, and pocketed it. Hell, maybe he'd eat it in front of the El-Tee the next time he had a chance. He turned back towards Blades, folding his hands as best he could through the crutch, his own exhaustion becoming evident in the dark circles beneath his eyes.
"Anythin' else you need from me, Gimpy? Or can I go back to work?" The faux annoyance was disrupted by the smile fighting to be shown.
The force of the four-ounce bar in a foil wrapper in her lap was actually enough to cause the young woman to moan slightly with a burst of pain. Damn, she really need to get some sleep and find a doctor willing to shoot her up with the good stuff long enough to get her back on her feet and back to the grind. From the looks of things, they didn't need anyone down for long.
"You just...you just keep thinking that..." She would have finished the sentence were it not for falling asleep mid-syllable.
"You just...you just keep thinking that..." She would have finished the sentence were it not for falling asleep mid-syllable.
Digger watched her pass out, the toil from her ordeal finally catching up to her. He watched her for a moment, just allowing himself to envy her youth, her fire, the way that she seemed to forge ahead with an idea - no matter how flawed - and see it to completion. He thought back to her stance on their being here; the belief that they were needed back home, instead of this wild goose chase.
"Don' matter where I am, Blades." He murmured, turning to hobble out of the Racks area. "So long as I'm flyin'."
Leaving the racks and the sleeping pilot, Digger then wheeled around, his eyes narrowed slightly. He began hobbling back towards his own turf, determination in his shaky steps. There was a lot to do.
And getting work reports topped that list.
"Don' matter where I am, Blades." He murmured, turning to hobble out of the Racks area. "So long as I'm flyin'."
Leaving the racks and the sleeping pilot, Digger then wheeled around, his eyes narrowed slightly. He began hobbling back towards his own turf, determination in his shaky steps. There was a lot to do.
And getting work reports topped that list.
Responding to the other man's urgency, Digger was up, a new prosthetic attached to his leg. He wheeled around to face the other man, tapping the mass of metal and plastic on the deck floor, his eyes becoming alight with absolute interest. Despite this, he had the presence of mind to slowly push the remnants of a supplement bar wrapper deeper into his front pocket, the crinkling of plastic just one of a myriad of sounds on the busy flight deck.
"Been too damn long, boss." He said, grinning. "You have my absolute attention."
"Been too damn long, boss." He said, grinning. "You have my absolute attention."
"Let's walk and talk, Chief," the young officer said, taking one last overarching glance at the intricate dance that was the full-scale relief and repair effort going on within and around the flight deck. Nary a soul on the entirety of the Atlas was off-duty at the moment, every half-able-body of a crewman work on something. About the only way to find some rack time in the middle of all this was to have been witness to a suicide bomb and take a personal flight across the deck yourself. Some people had all the luck.
"See, as the cruise director on this luxury trip around the Karas System, it's my job to make sure that all the passengers are cozy and comfortable. I've been hearing some nasty reports that the emergency ventilation shafts for our luxury Cargo Bay suite aren't up to snuff, so I was looking for someone that might be looking for a little crawling action."
"See, as the cruise director on this luxury trip around the Karas System, it's my job to make sure that all the passengers are cozy and comfortable. I've been hearing some nasty reports that the emergency ventilation shafts for our luxury Cargo Bay suite aren't up to snuff, so I was looking for someone that might be looking for a little crawling action."
Digger raised an eyebrow as he walked along, his footsteps going step-thunk-step-thunk along the floors of the ship. He nearly snorted at the luxury cruise analogy, hands shoved deep into his pockets as they moseyed along the floor. Something was up. Morrow didn't come and pluck him from the cave for just anything.
"Right, right," Digger said, impatiently. "So the ventilation shafts need to be worked over. That's fine and dandy, and I'm always into a little crawling action.
"But, as you can probably see, Morrow, there has been a bomb in my nest. The eggs are scattered, and it'll damn well take all the king's horses to put 'em back together again. Do the citizens of the luxury suite need these ventilation shaft repairs this badly?"
"Right, right," Digger said, impatiently. "So the ventilation shafts need to be worked over. That's fine and dandy, and I'm always into a little crawling action.
"But, as you can probably see, Morrow, there has been a bomb in my nest. The eggs are scattered, and it'll damn well take all the king's horses to put 'em back together again. Do the citizens of the luxury suite need these ventilation shaft repairs this badly?"
The crpytic conversation lasted long enough to carry the two men into the same lift that had carried Digger and Blades earlier in the same day. As soon as the door shut behind them, the man in standard bridge dress uniform turned and dropped the pretense.
"Armed civvies rushed and locked out the bay. They've got the Captain, Doc Medina, and handful of others. Claim they've got charges rigged on half the ship. XO's been trying to talk them down, but he wants something down yesterday," the pilot spoke with no breath between his sentences, waiting impatiently for the slow lift.
"This war was a lot more fun when I knew who we were fighting."
"Armed civvies rushed and locked out the bay. They've got the Captain, Doc Medina, and handful of others. Claim they've got charges rigged on half the ship. XO's been trying to talk them down, but he wants something down yesterday," the pilot spoke with no breath between his sentences, waiting impatiently for the slow lift.
"This war was a lot more fun when I knew who we were fighting."
There was a slight pause as the crew chief absorbed the information.
"Well, shit. What's taking the lift so long?" He blurted, tapping his good leg as the lift continued it's achingly slow descent. "That space walk looks really good right about now."
When the lift ground to a stop, Digger immediately stepped onto it, his actions far more urgent. "Shit. Armed Civvies. As if we didn't have enough damn problems on this tug. If I find the guy who made that bomb, I'll kill him myself. What's the plan? Outside, and then down through the core shafts?"
"Well, shit. What's taking the lift so long?" He blurted, tapping his good leg as the lift continued it's achingly slow descent. "That space walk looks really good right about now."
When the lift ground to a stop, Digger immediately stepped onto it, his actions far more urgent. "Shit. Armed Civvies. As if we didn't have enough damn problems on this tug. If I find the guy who made that bomb, I'll kill him myself. What's the plan? Outside, and then down through the core shafts?"
- 47 posts here • Page 2 of 2 • 1, 2