by SF Edwards
“Commander Pio-Tolis?” the admiral asked and turned to look at the next person at the table.
She watched the playback again, looping it on the table in front of her before she scratched at her ear and turned to the two cadets. “Cadet Temblin and Vaughnt did both attempt to avoid the accident as they were trained. Their recovery techniques were likewise correct. Ultimately, however, the cause of the accident lies with all of us here. We were at fault for not making sure that Cadet Temblin had proper simulator access. Cadet Temblin was at fault for not making sure he had access to the correct simulator and for not being able to contact Cadet Vaughnt when his RCOS failed. Cadet Vaughnt is, of course, at fault for complacency in the one place a pilot should never be, his cockpit. Finally, maintenance was at fault for improperly installing the RCOS antenna unit. I would recommend halting all flights until all RCOS units have been checked…”
“They have been,” Chief Flind interrupted. “It was the first thing we checked after Cadet Temblin informed me of the problems he had with gaining a RCOS lock.”
“Be that as it may, I recommend a check of all RCOS prior to any training flights from now on.”
The chief cleared his throat. “Amended procedures have already been drafted and are just awaiting the Admiral’s approval.”
The Admiral sat for a moment, looking over the room. “Ordinarily, a cadet in this situation would be grounded until such time as a full analysis and disposition of the damaged trainer could be accomplished. In the case of your trainer, Cadet Vaughnt, the initial reports indicate that the trainer is repairable so we would ground you until such time. Chief, what is your assessment of the repair time?”
The chief rolled his shoulders, thinking. “Full inspection. Replacement of all parts under non-combat conditions?”
The Admiral nodded.
“It should take two, maybe three, decles unless a rush were put on it.”
Blazer’s eyes went wide. Two to three decles without flying will pace me so far in arrears of the rest of his squadron to guarantee my expulsion.
“If a trainer is completely lost a cadet can be expelled from the flight training program,” the Admiral began, turning to Blazer.
Blazer closed his eyes and dropped his head, waiting for the deathblow.
“Can be,” the Admiral continued.
Blazer looked up as a glimmer of hope appeared in those two words.
“It is the findings of this board, that Cadet Temblin could have avoided the accident had his RCOS worked. Cadet Vaughnt initiated proper recovery procedure and recovered faster than his instructor could have. There was a failure in the instructor’s training curriculum which allows me to waive the grounding.”
Blazer felt like melting in his chair and let out a breath. He wasn’t sure how long he had held it.
“However, your trainer is still down for maintenance.”
Blazer looked up. What does that mean?
“Chief, is there a trainer the cadet can use in the interim?”
“Yes, sir,” Chief Flind replied eyeing Blazer with that cold artificial eye. “We have a spare craft that he and the other cadets assigned to that trainer will be able to use until his trainer is repaired.”
“Good. Then I leave the disposition of his punishment to you,” the admiral commented.
Chief Flind turned to Blazer. “One tridec plus the time it will take to repair your trainer will be required of you.”
Blazer did the mental math assuming a full tridec to repair the damage was enough. That would mean two tridecs on the maintenance decks.
“I know what you’re thinking, cadet. Two tridecs; how bad could that be? Well it will be bad and it won’t be that short because you will be solely responsible for repairing that trainer. I will assign none of my deckhands to help you. You can extend that repair timeline, as you will have to complete all the work I assign you first. Given that you will need to be trained on how to even use the tools and equipment, I could see you on my maintenance decks through your break and into next semester.”
No way, that’s insane. Given how busy his schedule was already, to extend through their first leave and then into the next semester. He kept his resolve though. I can do this. It’s just maintenance duty, I can handle it. It’ll be a buggering pain to find time to work the deck, repair the trainer, study, and see Marda but I can do it. I knew I can.
Joda then cleared his throat. “Chief, I feel that extending past the end of the semester would not be advisable,” he said passing a note through the tabletop to the Chief. “As you can see the extent of damage might not have been so severe if it weren’t for the fact that the wing on his trainer had been salvaged from trainer 12541-13-142.”
The chief looked at the note. That trainer had been destroyed the annura before when a cadet had lost control of it during a live fire exercise and rammed it into an anti-matter warhead.
“I disagree,” the chief said reading the note. “It wouldn’t be right to punish my crew for his mistake. And the wing, while having been recovered from Craft 142, was not damaged in that incident and passed a full up inspection prior to installation.”
The admiral nodded to each of them in turn then stood. “I agree. Cadet Vaughnt will serve under Chief Flind until he has repaired his craft plus an additional one tridec. Punishment is therefore recorded and I declare this board adjourned.”
UCSB DATE: 1000.229
Star System: Classified, UCSBA-13, Dorm Room 305
Much to his surprise, Blazer awoke the next cycle not to a maintenance technician hauling him out of bed but his alarm buzzing for the squadron’s pre-dawn PT run. He looked about confused and began to question whether the cycle before had really happened or was just a bad dream. As the others awoke, the looks on their faces told him it was no dream. They were surprised to see him there as well. Should I even go on the run, or should I head straight to the hangar? Clipping his macomm to his shorts, he decided that the maintainers could find him when they needed him.
The rest of the team awaited them when he and his roommates filed into the passageway. His roommates almost tripped over each other when they spotted Chris. Unlike the rest of them, Chris was not dressed in the standard PT uniform. Instead, she stood before them in an almost shear competition one-piece swimsuit that left precious little to the imagination, with a standard pair of shorts the rest of them wore added for modesty. Blazer and all of the males on the team couldn’t take their eyes off of her. The sheer suit hugged every curve and looked painted on more than anything else. A cool wind blew down the hallway revealing that it was in fact fabric. It was thin enough, though, that her vestigial nipples tightened in response.
Seri interposed herself between Chris and the males. “Chris’s father found…”
Chris placed a hand on Seri’s shoulder and pushed past her. None of the guys objected. “My father found a loophole in the uniform regulations so that now I can at least exercise in true Chamalad fashion.”
Blazer caught Deniv and Gavit exchanging quick looks as they stared at her. Even if it is regulation mustard yellow, that suit does not repulse. Frag me, why does she even bother wearing it?
“Is your duty uniform going to match?” Gavit asked.
Blazer had never seen Chris mesmerize Gavit so thoroughly before. With the number of women that Gavit had been with, her near nudity should be nothing new. Blazer could tell, however, that the confidence she exuded in what was her natural dress enticed the man more so than her looks.
She shook her head. The wig Bichard had woven slipped as a result. “No. I’ll wear my normal duty uniform when on shift but for my own personal use this is allowable,” she explained drawing a deep breath.
Blazer forced himself not to watch and focused on her face.
Her smile showed how she reveled in her control over them. “I hope there are no objections.”
None of the men objected and Bichard smiled, giving Chris a thumbs up for her creativity.
Seri stepped back up i
n her baggy PT uniform shooting an annoyed look at Chris. She could do little to stop her attire and it was clear that she hoped that the guys would get over it soon. “Let’s move people! Let’s get our run on before we miss breakfast.”
There was no argument as the team made their way towards the central lift. The doors opened before they reached it and a maintenance technician stepped out. Blazer stepped ahead of the team knowing that the man was there for him. “I’m Vaughnt.”
The technician nodded his head. “Yeah, let’s move,” he replied and turned back towards the lift, holding the doors open.
“But shouldn’t I get changed first?”
The technician looked him over. “Why? You’re dressed aren’t you? Let’s move!”
Blazer didn’t say another word and waving to the others, followed after the technician. Let’s hope I can at least get on some coveralls when we get to the hangar.
UCSBA-13, Main Hangar
Blazer and the technician arrived at the maintenance bays for the Splicer 1000s a few pulses later. Riding the lift up, Blazer watched the Blade Force run around the track. Several other cadets were out running as well. The Chret leader of Training Squadron Eleven stood out as he led his team on a run. Blazer could even make out the Explosions ahead of the Blade Force.
Arriving on the deck, the technician escorted Blazer over to Chief Flind who had a macomm in hand. He looked at Blazer with a note of disdain as he approached. The light PT outfit Blazer wore was a sharp contrast to the duty uniforms and flight suits worn by everyone else within visual.
“You’re hardly uniform, cadet,” Chief Flind retorted.
“I’m sorry, sir. We were getting ready for our pre-dawn run when your technician caught me.”
The chief eyed him. “Was that your idea or your squadron leader’s?”
Blazer wasn’t sure how to answer. While they were following Seri’s example she never ordered them to go on the pre-dawn runs. “Suggested by our squadron leader, but voluntary,” he answered.
The chief looked him over again. “Fine. Your first duty is simple,” he said, handing Blazer a maintenance macomm. “Head over to your trainer and catalog it.”
“Catalog what, sir?”
“Catalog all the parts that can be salvaged and what parts are scrap on the right wing.”
Blazer looked around, searching for the trainer.
“It’s parked over in the long-term repair bays over there,” the chief indicated pointing at the dark alcoves beyond the forest of launch tubes.
Blazer snapped off a quick arm across the chest Anulian salute then turned around and jogged off across the deck, careful not to launch off the deck in the low gravity.
“There’s no running allowed in my hangar outside of a scramble, cadet!” the chief bellowed from behind him. Blazer skidded to a halt in response before shuffling the rest of the way to his craft.
Blazer reached the long-term repair bays and made his way around them, searching for the one that contained his trainer. He soon found it. It was almost a third of the way around the hangar spinward from where he had arrived. He stepped in and the lights clicked on. It hurt him to see his trainer broken and mutilated. It reminded him of an animal waiting for someone to put it down as it lay there slumped against its right side.
Blazer approached, macomm in hand, and tried to figure out where to begin. Looking around, he spotted an aircraft jack and wheeled it over. He checked the macomm when he crawled underneath the wing and accessed the maintenance manual for the trainer while he looked for the jacking point. Thank God for simple interfaces, he thought as he found the entry.
As careful as he could, Blazer moved the jack underneath the engine. Popping open a cover plate behind the landing gear he elevated the jack until it made contact. The jack did the rest and lifted the trainer up until it sat at its normal height. The jack was so loud that Blazer didn’t hear the tell-tale clicking of the chief’s clawed feat approach.
When Blazer crawled out from beneath his trainer, he found the chief waiting for him and popped back in surprise. “Sir, how can I help you?”
The chief looked at the broken craft with a note of sadness and anger in his eyes. The anhedral portion of the cranked arrow wing hung down at an odd angle while the landing gear dangled out of its housing. “I thought for sure that the landing gear would at least be salvageable.”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“Save your sorrys. Now I didn’t elaborate on your job this cycle. This is a task that would take a trained technician a full work cycle to complete and you have to get it done before anything else.”
Blazer nodded.
“Now understand this, cadet. The work you do for me here is in addition to your normal duties. You will still be required to attend all of your classes, PT sessions, and training events as normal. But when you are done with them you will report back here until released from your duty, understand?”
Blazer nodded in affirmation.
“Your work must be of the same quality as my technicians out there. They know these systems inside and out. I will not tolerate slop on my decks.”
“Yes, sir. No slop. I will do the job to the best of my abilities,” Blazer replied, his voice calm.
“No, to the best of theirs,” Chief Flind corrected while pointing out onto the main deck. “Now get to cataloging that wreck. I’ll have more work for you once you’re done.” He turned to leave but after he took two steps stopped and turned back. “Oh, and good work with that jack. It normally takes cadets a couple of cycles to even ask what it is.” With that, the chief disappeared.
Was that a good talk or a bad one? Trying not to think about it too much, Blazer made his way to the tool crib built into the sidewall of the alcove. He searched through it by familiarizing himself with its contents before he pulled out a small handheld scanner. With scanner in hand, he walked back to the trainer and pulled the list back up on the macomm.
Blazer felt relieved to see that everything was listed by major assemblies. He tapped the first assembly; his arms feeling heavy as he looked at the new list. The chief didn’t just have him cataloging the major assemblies but each subassembly down to the attachment and connecting hardware. Each plug and jack had to be accounted for. Even the electronics were cataloged down to the circuit boards. He looked back out of the alcove and saw the chief in the distance. Should I be grateful that the sadistic bastard isn’t having me catalog and check each paint fleck that had fallen off the damaged craft?
Setting his resolve, Blazer headed back to the tool crib. He pulled out an electric socket driver and returned to the craft. Where the wingtip sensor pod had once perched, an open gash now awaited him. The whole front leading edge of the wing was gone with the rear bearing the signs of severe damage. The interior was all but non-existent. The structural ribbing within looked like the charred skeletal remains of a mauled animal more than the metal and ceramic composite that made up the structure of the fighter.
Blazer turned away for a moment. Shame filled him. He removed every exterior panel from the left wing and engine, arraying the panels from the upper surface in front of the wing and those from the underside behind it. He did his best to keep them in the same positions relative to each other. That was an old trick he had learned working on his aeroracer back home. He then went through each one; checking off every bolt, washer, and nut as salvageable or scrap.
With the panels off most of the interior of the wing and engine became visible. He set to work pulling out the major assemblies and setting each one on the panels that once covered it.
Blazer lost track of time as he worked. I can miss breakfast, that’s not a big deal. I just have to get this done, the sooner it’s finished the sooner I can get this bird flying again. I’ll just run to dorms and grab something from the fridge and get dressed on the way to class.
Blazer was almost enjoying the work. After three tridecs of theory and classroom study, it felt good to handle actual hardware again. The work was hard a
nd hot though and Blazer wondered if any cooling air came out of the vents at all. When he went to wipe away the sweat bubbling on his brow the hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention.
He turned around to find an orb hovering behind him. It was one he recognized. Much to his surprise, he was glad to see it. “What are you doing here?”
The orb sputtered at him and Blazer looked around before reaching down to grab his macomm in the pocket he normally kept it in. It wasn’t there. Remembering what he was wearing, he reached down, pulled it off his hip and tapped the stud on the end. The time flickered to life above it. His eyes went wide in terror when he read the holographic display. I missed my first class.
Blazer started for the entrance to the alcove in his rush to get to class then skidded to a halt. I can’t just leave all the hardware lying out like this can I? There was too much risk of the small pieces somehow sliding out or getting sucked up by a passing trainer to let it just lay there.
The orb twittered at him in response.
Seeing what the orb wanted, Blazer ran to the alcove wall and grabbed the cylinders attached there. He slammed the cylinders into the corresponding holes in the floor along the entrance. After he slipped the last one in, he grabbed the handles on the side of each one and pulled out the magnetized screens. He snapped each one into the next pole and then into the walls of the alcove. The magnetic meshes would keep any small connectors or hardware from escaping. He then ran over to a control on the wall and another mesh extended down from the ceiling to close off the room completely. Now it would require a major disaster to befall the academy before any of the parts could escape.