Half Day

Posted on 02 Apr 2018 @ 6:38am by Staff Warrant Officer William Griffin
Edited on on 15 May 2018 @ 8:43pm

1,218 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: The Search Begins
Location: Fighter Maintenance Hanger
Timeline: MD 1, 1120 Hrs

"Well done, people!" Griffin roared over the loud background noise of a full maintenance hanger at work. Standing atop the maintenance platform for his own bay, he could survey the expanse of the hanger. There were six fighters in different bays, all in perfect working order and ready to fly. Below him, Alpha One, Commander Walsh's Gryphon class fighter, sat gleaming, looking sleek and dangerous. It had taken the better part of two weeks to get his team back to full speed, get the hanger squared away and get back to something approaching a normal routine.

His team had just finished a full maintenance cycle drill, which involved pulling all the fighters in, six at a time, performing simulated maintenance, plus whatever actual repairs or upkeep was required, and returning them to the flight line as fast as possible. This had been their first drill since then, their first test of readiness since having their brains scrambled and Griffin was pleased with his team's performance. They had cycled through all twenty-one fighters in a time that, while not record-breaking, was well below the expected standard. There had been no accidents, no incidents and he hadn't had to shout at anyone.

In each bay, a crew chief and a small team of maintenance engineers, armorers and specialists had enveloped each fighter like a small army of ants, all working on separate things but all working together in a practiced, orchestrated routine, overseen and choreographed by the crew chief. The fighter came down on a lift from the flight line above, was moved into a bay, the teams went to work and then it went back to the flight line via the lift. Each standard maintenance cycle, assuming the craft wasn't damaged and didn't need major repairs, was supposed to take a maximum of 30 minutes. His crews had gotten it down to 18 and change without shortcuts or half-assing any part of the cycle. The key was coordination, making sure every member of the team knew their job and the jobs of the people around them, assuring that nobody was kept waiting for a space, tool or part, and making sure that everything needed for every job was on hand and ready to go.

He raised two fingers to his mouth and whistled, long and loud. Quickly, the background sounds of a working maintenance hanger faded to silence, only the hum of systems remained.

"All right, people!" Griffin spoke, his bass voice was loud enough to carry across the whole hanger without the need to shout. "Ya'll did good, I'm surprised to say." He saw grins and pats on the back, "I'm damn impressed! That was our fastest time up 'til now, not bad for a bunch of dumb-ass spanner pilots. Ya'll have earned a treat!" He paused, letting the expectant murmurs and congratulations fade before continuing. "Crew chiefs! Finish yer current assignments, get the fighters back on the flight line an' then give your crews the rest of the day off! We'll have a short debrief at thirteen-hundred and then you'll get the afternoon off, too."

A murmur quickly grew into excited chatter and a smattering of cheering and applause. Griffin raised his voice, continuing over the cacophony. "I will be at Talons enjoyin' a cold one from about fourteen-hundred hours, if any of you knuckleheads wanna join me." The owner of Talons would probably not be pleased with nearly 40 grimy, sweaty engineers descending upon the place, but then that's what the place was for. "An' I expect you all back tomorrow, bright and bushy! That is all!"

Griffin turned away from the noise and descended the ladder to his own charge, the engineering team he worked with were all grinning like loons, but still working on the squadron leader's fighter, putting the finishing touches on the cycle and polishing the cockpit glass. It wasn't long before fighter started making their way back up to the flight line, one by one, until the bay was empty. The people followed shortly after, filtering out in small groups until only his crew chiefs remained, gathered around bay one.

They were all senior enlisted personnel, petty officers of various rank and experienced. Each of them had done their time in the crews before passing as crew chiefs and they all knew their work. Griffin respected these men and women. Not so long ago, he had been one of them. In a lot of ways, he still was, but his NCO status put him apart in other ways. While on the job, it was his duty to remain above, to be seperate, but with just them in bay one, he felt able to relax.

"Damn, that was good." Griffin grinned at the people around him, "you've all got your kiddos trained even better'n I'd hoped an' I've really got nothin' to say, here, feedback-wise. "If ya'll have any comments, questions or suggestions, now's the time."

Chief Tlana raised her hand, she was a Vulcan, sure and steadfast, always willing to put in the work, but sometimes a bit too up-front. Griffin nodded to her to continue. "Chief Griffin, while I appreciate the benefits of giving the maintenance crews half of the day off, I do not see the wisdom in encouraging them to imbibe alcohol. Surely such an illogical mass-poisoning will be detrimental to their work, as they will certainly suffer from the symptoms associated with the recovery period after such... consumption. In addition, if a crisis were to emerge while they were... incapacitated, there would be serious consequences."

Griffin took pause at that one. Of course Tlana had a point, in the unlikely event there was an emergency this evening, it would be a hot mess. Still, there were medications available to quickly sober up a crew, and the benefits would probably outweigh the risks. "It's morale buildin', chief." Griffin explained, "us emotional types need recognition an' reward for hard work given. I want the crews to celebrate, to know they earned a bit of a party 'cause they did good. That morale will last a lot longer than one day, an' more'n make up for any foggy heads tomorrow mornin'. An' if a crisis happens in the next fourteen hours, which I doubt, since 'far as I can tell we're in an empty void, the crews will sober up fast enough."

Tlana raised an eyebrow, the classic Vulcan body language for 'I disagree but I don't want to argue with an illogical human.' and refrained from further comment. No other hands went up ans Griffin gave it fifteen seconds, then nodded. "Right, ya'll did well, make sure yer crews know it. I'll see ya'll at Talons, or bright an' early tomorrow. Dismissed."

With the crew chiefs dismissed, Griffin made sure the hanger was secured and that all the various tools were off, put away and tied down, then made his way back to his own quarters. He had a moment's pause, wondering what the XO and the Wing Commander might say about his spontaneous decision to give his entire crew half a shift off, then shrugged. They'd earned it. For his own part, he had just enough time to shower, change into off-duty clothes and make his way to Talons before the horde of spanner-pilots descended on the place.

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