Grease and Guts

Posted on Fri May 20th, 2011 @ 4:58am by

Mission: Shore Leave 2; Picking Up the Pieces
Location: Engineering
Timeline: After "The Engineer"

After having nearly brained himself and getting yelled at by the Engineering Duty Officer for replicating a cup of coffee on the industrial replicator, Zander felt that it was still a good day. He had checked every last salty son-of-a-Borg EPS conduit that the Arizona had revealed to him as he worked on her relentlessly. So many systems had been rerouted that even he wasn't sure what went were, but damnit, the Arizona was as space worthy as she could be.

He had checked, double-checked, cursed, grunted, sweated, and bled for the ship so many times since he got on board that he felt like a surgeon instead of an Engineer. Patting the bulkhead that was nearest to him with a rarely shown display of affection, Zander smiled. "It's alright, baby. Daddy got this. No one is going to hurt you like this again."

Grabbing his Duotronic Probe, PO2 Devereux bent down to the plasma relay, wishing that he had a Gravitic Caliper which was so much more effective. "Deal with what you got, son." He muttered to himself as he checked the plasma flow. "Finally! I told you that Daddy would get you up and running. Do that again and I'll let that crazy bastard McChet have at you with whatever enters his mind."

Standing, he knocked his head against the bulkhead that he had patted affectionately minutes before, causing him to release a string of curses and threats that would make a Klingon proud. He winced as he felt the wetness in his matted hair. "Just another knock, son, just another knock. If this beautiful baby can take some serious heat from Romulan scum, I can take another bump on my noggin."

Muttering, he entered a Jeffries Tube and put away the Duotronic Probe in his improvised tool kit. "Looks like a group of Ferengi were playing Press-the-Latinum in here. Smells like it, too." Retrieving his tricorder, he began scanning for any deviations from normal as he covered each section grid by grid.

"Heh...bet the Chief is wondering where the hell I've been, but if you stand around and blab all day long about reports, other stuff just doesn't get done." He mumbled as he made adjustments that were required. Besides, he hadn't seen the Chief Engineer since he had came on board the Arizona, which was fine with him. The less contact he had with Chiefs, the more the Indian could do without someone casting doubts on his work. He figured that if he screwed up in a major way, he'd either be dead or busted back down to PO3 by now. So far, that hadn't happened unless no one had told him that he was dead, and he didn't feel third class.

"There was once a Petty Officer Third Class, who said to his woman after the third glass 'If you take off your clothes and let me see those, I'll tell you what I propose'. " Zander began as he continued his repairs of the ship, going deeper into her guts. At this point, it was doubtful if he would even be recognized as the man who came on board with all the blood, grease and sweat on his uniform, but damnit, Zander was where he belonged.