[Snip] First Form, continued
The first part of the problem turned out to be simpler than it could have been; the computer wasn't getting power because a major power conduit had been breached and the wires inside severed. The conduit in question would need to be patched, and that was beyond Drevin's resources at the moment, but he could reconnect the wires, splicing and insulating some and replacing others, so that applying the patch was all that needed to be done. Well, at this particular point; there might be more damage elsewhere.
Once he had the computer reconnected, he paused to check its reports; if he'd just need to disconnect some of these things anyway, there wasn't much point in wiring them up quite yet. But it looked promising; much of the armour had warped and lost integrity, and all of that would need replacing, but as far as the internals went, everything that was reporting malfunction was something he could trace power leads to. He cut the power, locked-out and tagged the reactor, then got back in the cockpit and delved into the conduit, again splicing low-power lines, reaching into an apron pocket for a new connector for the higher-power stuff.
With eight leads done and three to go, he heard a rattle outside the cockpit and felt it through the frame; someone was working on the exterior. Before he could extricate himself and see who it was, a voice called out, “Chief Revil? I've got that pallet you wanted.”
“Just set it here,” said a closer, familiar voice. “And lend me a hand; most of these plates will need to be removed and replaced.”
Stripping off the armour, then; with the power systems locked down, that shouldn't be a problem, but Drevin made a mental note to look for them before unlocking it again. He'd call out when their conversation was done; for the moment he kept working.
“I rather thought it'd be you in there, Moris. But given the state of this lot, I suppose there was a delay getting everything together?”
“That's about the extent of it,” the one called Moris replied. “No new catastrophes, just more pieces of the same one that got all these Shrikes in here.” There was a pause in the conversation as an impact wrench whined. “Speaking of which, considering what put them in here, you seem surprisingly upbeat about it all.”
Drevin, who'd not heard that detail, felt his ears perk; Revil, who presumably had, didn't see fit to explain it for the benefit of any unseen listeners. “Yes, well... sometimes I do get a reminder to not take everything so seriously.”
Drevin smiled to himself. Highly experienced he wasn't, but even he knew just how hard it was to stay angry at the universe after a night with a lover. He turned his attention back to the main air-scrubber power line - even if it was only one such line out of three, it was not something he wanted to be on record for as having left a substandard repair.
He'd just finished patching the feed-line for the gravidar when the conversation intruded on his ears again: “...a pilot, you say? And he's not all bitter about doing 'mere' maintenance work? Why haven't you made a move?”
“Things are... somewhat delicate,” the ermine demurred, and grunted; moments later, there was a clatter of metal falling onto a pile. “I don't know that he'd be interested; even if he might, he... might think he's being pressured.”
“Wait, that ferret? He's the one you've had your eye on?”
Drevin froze.
“Not that he's bad-looking, and it sounds like he's a decent sort, but, well... you normally go for someone with a little more confidence, no? Someone who's going to be able to say 'no' even to a first-class Chief with twenty years in the service.”
“That would be the cause of my hesitation,” Revil sighed. “But, Dak, have you ever seen him when he's truly at ease? In those moments when he lets himself be confident...”
“Well, don't tell me, Chief.” Another falling panel. “Tell him.” There was a pause. “Look, I should probably clock out and get along to the infirmary, I'm scheduled for a check-up.”
“Yes... yes, quite so. Thank you for your assistance, Dak. And for listening.”
“Anytime, Chief. See you next time.”
Footsteps. A sigh; another rattle of the impact wrench; one more hunk of metal joined the pile.
Drevin was running out of excuses not to show himself; the last connector was done, he really couldn't do much in here without leaving the cockpit to take the reactor off lockdown. He tried to imagine what it'd be like to talk over what he'd just been discussed. Would it sting, with Flint still in recovery? Would it arouse some manner of resentment? He tried to picture it, him and the ermine sitting somewhere.
Somehow, “somewhere” wanted to be someplace quite private. And what was being aroused certainly wasn't resentment.
It was a daunting prospect, especially having just heard how long Revil had been in the service - good grief, he was twice Drevin's own age and then some, assuming “twenty years” was in Imperial standard. And yet... he was healthy, vigorous, most definitely attractive...
Daunting, yes. But also exciting. And if Drevin didn't talk to the man, he'd probably be distracted for the rest of his shift thinking about it.
Besides, Revil wouldn't want him to curl up in a corner when there was work to be done, right?
He made a few notes on his datapad, then clambered over the rim of the cockpit and down the ladder. By the time his boots met the deck, Revil was coming around the Shrike's nose to meet him.
As soon as they had line of sight to each other, the ermine stopped short. “Oh,” he said softly. “...You heard every word of that, didn't you?”
“Mostly, Chief.” It wasn't his fault, but some part of Drevin still wanted to apologize; he ducked his head. “The first two were quick fixes, this one wasn't. And by the time I realized it was me you were talking about...”
“...Calling attention to yourself would have been more awkward. Quite.” Revil let out a breath. “I think... we should talk.”
“Yeah,” Drevin agreed. And hopefully he'd be able to not keep picturing the ermine naked in the process.
Revil started to reach for his shoulder, but stopped short; the uncertainty on his face was that much more impressive for being something not normally seen there. Drevin reached up, took his wrist, and pulled his hand in the rest of the way; Revil sighed, giving that shoulder a squeeze, then nodded. “Very well.” He reached for his datapad, tapping in a few commands, and held it up in front of him. “Petty Officer Graver, Revil here. Note in the log that Cadet Targe and myself are going on break.”
“On break?” replied a feminine voice. “You? Are you feeling all right, Chief?”
“Just note it in,” the ermine sighed.
“Aye, Chief. On break as of now.”
“Good. Revil out.” The ermine shook his head as he put the 'pad back in its holder. “Well. Let's... get something to drink, shall we?”
Wordlessly, Drevin followed him across the service deck.
Once he had the computer reconnected, he paused to check its reports; if he'd just need to disconnect some of these things anyway, there wasn't much point in wiring them up quite yet. But it looked promising; much of the armour had warped and lost integrity, and all of that would need replacing, but as far as the internals went, everything that was reporting malfunction was something he could trace power leads to. He cut the power, locked-out and tagged the reactor, then got back in the cockpit and delved into the conduit, again splicing low-power lines, reaching into an apron pocket for a new connector for the higher-power stuff.
With eight leads done and three to go, he heard a rattle outside the cockpit and felt it through the frame; someone was working on the exterior. Before he could extricate himself and see who it was, a voice called out, “Chief Revil? I've got that pallet you wanted.”
“Just set it here,” said a closer, familiar voice. “And lend me a hand; most of these plates will need to be removed and replaced.”
Stripping off the armour, then; with the power systems locked down, that shouldn't be a problem, but Drevin made a mental note to look for them before unlocking it again. He'd call out when their conversation was done; for the moment he kept working.
“I rather thought it'd be you in there, Moris. But given the state of this lot, I suppose there was a delay getting everything together?”
“That's about the extent of it,” the one called Moris replied. “No new catastrophes, just more pieces of the same one that got all these Shrikes in here.” There was a pause in the conversation as an impact wrench whined. “Speaking of which, considering what put them in here, you seem surprisingly upbeat about it all.”
Drevin, who'd not heard that detail, felt his ears perk; Revil, who presumably had, didn't see fit to explain it for the benefit of any unseen listeners. “Yes, well... sometimes I do get a reminder to not take everything so seriously.”
Drevin smiled to himself. Highly experienced he wasn't, but even he knew just how hard it was to stay angry at the universe after a night with a lover. He turned his attention back to the main air-scrubber power line - even if it was only one such line out of three, it was not something he wanted to be on record for as having left a substandard repair.
He'd just finished patching the feed-line for the gravidar when the conversation intruded on his ears again: “...a pilot, you say? And he's not all bitter about doing 'mere' maintenance work? Why haven't you made a move?”
“Things are... somewhat delicate,” the ermine demurred, and grunted; moments later, there was a clatter of metal falling onto a pile. “I don't know that he'd be interested; even if he might, he... might think he's being pressured.”
“Wait, that ferret? He's the one you've had your eye on?”
Drevin froze.
“Not that he's bad-looking, and it sounds like he's a decent sort, but, well... you normally go for someone with a little more confidence, no? Someone who's going to be able to say 'no' even to a first-class Chief with twenty years in the service.”
“That would be the cause of my hesitation,” Revil sighed. “But, Dak, have you ever seen him when he's truly at ease? In those moments when he lets himself be confident...”
“Well, don't tell me, Chief.” Another falling panel. “Tell him.” There was a pause. “Look, I should probably clock out and get along to the infirmary, I'm scheduled for a check-up.”
“Yes... yes, quite so. Thank you for your assistance, Dak. And for listening.”
“Anytime, Chief. See you next time.”
Footsteps. A sigh; another rattle of the impact wrench; one more hunk of metal joined the pile.
Drevin was running out of excuses not to show himself; the last connector was done, he really couldn't do much in here without leaving the cockpit to take the reactor off lockdown. He tried to imagine what it'd be like to talk over what he'd just been discussed. Would it sting, with Flint still in recovery? Would it arouse some manner of resentment? He tried to picture it, him and the ermine sitting somewhere.
Somehow, “somewhere” wanted to be someplace quite private. And what was being aroused certainly wasn't resentment.
It was a daunting prospect, especially having just heard how long Revil had been in the service - good grief, he was twice Drevin's own age and then some, assuming “twenty years” was in Imperial standard. And yet... he was healthy, vigorous, most definitely attractive...
Daunting, yes. But also exciting. And if Drevin didn't talk to the man, he'd probably be distracted for the rest of his shift thinking about it.
Besides, Revil wouldn't want him to curl up in a corner when there was work to be done, right?
He made a few notes on his datapad, then clambered over the rim of the cockpit and down the ladder. By the time his boots met the deck, Revil was coming around the Shrike's nose to meet him.
As soon as they had line of sight to each other, the ermine stopped short. “Oh,” he said softly. “...You heard every word of that, didn't you?”
“Mostly, Chief.” It wasn't his fault, but some part of Drevin still wanted to apologize; he ducked his head. “The first two were quick fixes, this one wasn't. And by the time I realized it was me you were talking about...”
“...Calling attention to yourself would have been more awkward. Quite.” Revil let out a breath. “I think... we should talk.”
“Yeah,” Drevin agreed. And hopefully he'd be able to not keep picturing the ermine naked in the process.
Revil started to reach for his shoulder, but stopped short; the uncertainty on his face was that much more impressive for being something not normally seen there. Drevin reached up, took his wrist, and pulled his hand in the rest of the way; Revil sighed, giving that shoulder a squeeze, then nodded. “Very well.” He reached for his datapad, tapping in a few commands, and held it up in front of him. “Petty Officer Graver, Revil here. Note in the log that Cadet Targe and myself are going on break.”
“On break?” replied a feminine voice. “You? Are you feeling all right, Chief?”
“Just note it in,” the ermine sighed.
“Aye, Chief. On break as of now.”
“Good. Revil out.” The ermine shook his head as he put the 'pad back in its holder. “Well. Let's... get something to drink, shall we?”
Wordlessly, Drevin followed him across the service deck.