Jack Pine
Archduke of the NDC
- Joined
- Nov 3, 2021
- Messages
- 46
- Reaction score
- 29
Episode 0 - Horseshoes and Walking Hand Grenades
Medusa Expanse, NDC Shard
Sanctuary Star System, Sirris II moon named "Vaigrif"
NDV Archon moored at lunar naval port of "Helms Depth", 1200 OST
For the last several hours, the flight decks had been a cascade of busy activity, as personnel scurried around to get everything in place. The ship had finished its latest retrofit, and overhaul, renewing the next cycle of its already storied career of service. The newer craft were brought aboard, the older models of fighters finally having been replaced for sale, and/or mothballing. Such equipment with many others, would likely be stockpiled then shipped out to one of the colonies as a gift, in an effort to reduce their needed expenditure in equipment. Engineers and deck crew unpacked trolleys and crates of supplies, tools placed in their stations and kits, as well munitions being squirreled away to their reinforced compartments for storage. As everything was put in its place, the captain of the vessel toured the decks, officially on inspection but merely watching over the progress as their crew did their jobs. As the activity began to ebb, a deck chief would approach before offering a data slate to the captain to look over.
Captain Eskarra's eyes seem to dart over the list, the Geist in her neck scrolling it as she did, "Everything looks in order, I want us underway within an hour". The device was handed back before the deck chief scampered off to finish preparations, and her aide decomp made a note on their own pad. "I see those language programs I loaned you last summer came in well, you can read Hassani quite fluently now. Shall I rally the jockeys, or should we leave them standing on the dock just a wee bit longer?", came the question of the aid decomp, a small smirk at first before back to business as usual.
Eskarra pulled a rather antique pocket watch from the coat of her uniform, the soft ticks following in time with subtle motions of the dials that were formatted in Sirrisian time measurements. A long thoughtful moment passed as she stared at its face before answering, "Give them twenty more minutes as per your traditions, I'll be heading back to the bridge." With their answer given, the lid was snap shut and the watch returned to its pocket before the captain began to head off. With a departing bow from the aid de comp, they began a lazy walk to finally rally the non-essential crew compliment awaiting the start of the ship's cycle.
---------- Out On The Docks -----------
The Archon was mounted in its mooring before the organized rows of non-essential crew, gantries and autonomous rails with servoed tool arms doing final touch ups on the hull. The older model of ship surprising some by still being in service, while some of those waiting at attention as per tradition, speculated amongst themselves just how old the ship was. All were organized in their duty groups, at attention for what had been the better part of half an hour now, save for one specific canine mod who only returned to stance if they start to catch an officer turning their way. But most held to the tradition, with only a minimum amount of bitching.
Seara Tasvanni, was not one of those, as she occasionally grunted from being forced to stand here in a row like a bunch of jackass toy soldiers. Departure was set for just after noon, yet they had been mustered early in the morning, some like herself having to catch a flight up from the capital just to get there. Then spend several hours with paperwork to get their personal effects aboard, quarters allotted, and any issued items vended to them for this duty tour. With a sigh, the blonde lowered her salute when she was sure no officers were looking, and adjusted her dress blacks for the tenth time given they still needed some tailoring. "Oh for gods sakes, they still haven't replaced the zipper Kat, and most of our pilots don't even have patches yet. Who the hell are we supposed to know are in this new flight?", she grumbled, considerably more audibly before returning to her saluted stance in defeat.