SD242007.09 - Duty Log - CEO & NPCs - "USS Duracell"

Posted on Thu Jul 9th, 2020 @ 12:58pm by Brigadier General Jonathan Grey & Lieutenant Commander Ky'La De'Lenn

849 words; about a 4 minute read

Mission: The Sincerest Form of Flattery
Location: Versailles
Timeline: Current

=^= Main Engineering =^=

Footsteps echoed in the cavernous hall that was main engineering, the rhythmic, military marching clattering a cacophony across the plated floors. Carpeted patches provided brief periods of muffled clumping sounds, but it seemed half of engineering was being turned upside down to chase some manner of problem, and much of the carpet was stacked in piles against the walls to make floor access easier.

Despite the noise, not a single head raised to investigate the source. Tired eyes stared at the output from diagnostic tools, dully absorbing line after line of information. Every now and then, someone would pull up a floor panel and remove a component, or tweak something with a hyperspanner, before replacing the panel and returning to their scans, stifling yawns.

Eventually, the five pairs of thick-booted feet came to a halt.

"Commander De'Lenn." declared Sergeant Banes, decked out in a thick spacesuit. A transparent helmet was tucked under his left arm, gleaming in the bright lights around them. Over his shoulder, a rifle strap gave clues to the weapon on his back, and his thigh sported a small holster for his backup.

Quickly turning her head in the direction of the voice, standing there was what she would say was a cross between a large targ and a albino buffalo. "What the hell.......rather what are you....better yet who are you?" she said, getting up looking at....well she was not really sure what she was looking at. 'He looks like a soldier from the lost world of Vesuvius', she thought as De'Lenn waited for it to speak again.

"Sergeant Banes, ma'am." offered the marine, the green collar of his uniform just barely visible inside the steel neck of the suit.

"Comms from the docking area are down again, so we were ordered to get decked out for space work, and to carry word down here; we need an Engineering crew on Dock 4. The USS Craic is trying to hook its power systems into the Station's to give us a boost for a few hours, but the station's automated umbilical is jammed half-extended. We've been tasked with providing escort, in case you run into trouble." Banes rattled off, consulting a padd to double-check his facts.

"I see....well, um, I wasn't expecting to space walk but....wait just a damn minute......", Ky'la said.

Walking to a console, she pulled up an exterior of the station. Yes Barnes was right but why did she have to go? "Take Donovan, Gleason and Simmons to make the group and get that umbilical fixed. We need that power. I have to continue fixing the comms and everything else. Watch your asses out there" Ky'la said motioning to the three half scared engineer's she had called out. "Bring my boys back Barnes in one piece. If it gets hairy call and I'll get you asap", she added.

"Yes ma'am. Alright folks," he announced, turning to face the decidedly unhappy cluster of engineers, "let's get you suited. Davies, Stackhouse, Markham. Takes two to put these suits on fast. Help them."

Three marines stepped forward from the fire team at Barnes' back.

The first marine was a rat-faced little man with oddly jagged teeth and a clean-shaven head. His feet beat a surprisingly light pitter-patter across the floor, despite the heavy suit. In moments he was next to Donovan, giving the engineer a friendly, if alarming, smile.

The next was a blonde Corporal of at least fifty years, with diamond-hard muscle tone and piercing blue eyes. She stalked over to Gleason and stood a bare foot away as she glared, willing the engineer to hurry up.

The third was a Bolian male, with several white scars slashed diagonally across his face. He cocked his head at Simmons and raised an eyebrow expectantly, bearing the expression of a man unimpressed by his new fancy-dress partner.

The remaining member of the fire team was the shortest, with jet-black orbs for eyes, and hair to match. She waited with the Sergeant, watching her colleagues with amusement written all over her face.

"This is not a joke people so get those grins off your faces. You're here to work not chat. We need to get these power converters in place and the corresponding power taps attached. You think you can do it correctly?" she asked, looking at them with a serious face.

"Chust az soon az zis vun figure oot hiz pantz." clipped the blonde Corporal, rapidly connecting the clips at Gleason's waist that connected the two halves of the space suit.

"Stow the chatter Stackhouse." he told the Corporal, turning to face the CEO. "We'll be out of your hair soon Commander."

The sound of clips clipping and tests testing reached a crescendo as the three pairs of people finished assembling the space-suits around the engineers; helmets tucked neatly under their arms. The Sergeant gave a brisk gesture and all eight of them walked towards the exit, ready to fix what needed fixing.


=^= End of Log =^=

Sergeant Banes & Fireteam Bravo
Marines
Starbase Versailles

Lt. Cmdr. Ky'la De'Lenn
Chief Enginerring Officer
Starbase Versailles

 

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