Ty & Two Six || Open

[Tyler Tremaine]

0800 Hours, October 6th, 2003

They'd had so little time to get started so far. Tyler had eventually had the Chief issue him a spare Viper and ticket his as 'Under Repair'. They'd pulled the main armor plates off so far, the pilot and the deckhand. Kershaw was his name, smart guy, had lots to say, and was just as happy talking on and on for hours. Tyler listened to him talk because the guy seemed content, and the dullish hours of wrench turning seemed somewhat less dull when he had something to occupy his mind. Ty had done all this before, and with each bolt he removed, each weld he severed, he felt like he was starting over. And after years of working to attain his own personal perfection, starting over was something that pained him.

He'd even voiced this to Kershaw, who went into an elaborate spheal about how this was actually one of many forms of therapy. "I don't know if the Chief is into psychology or anything," He'd said, "But when some guys are faced with life changing issues or problems, blindness or... like, if they lose their legs, or even if their diagnosed with a terminal illness, it's something that is recommended. They take their hobbies, and force them to restart from the beginning. Take this guy I knew back on Picon, builds motorbikes. Guy lost his vision in a chemical spill. Nothing out of the ordinary, but he wasn't wearing safety glasses, and he got sprayed right in the face. Now this guy LT, he lived for this stuff, engines and the like. So he got feelin low, real low. Talked about suicide and was givin up on life. His pals came around, and took his bike, a real beaut, and just tore it apart. Left him with all the pieces in his garage." He stopped talking long enough to correct Tyler on what he was fixing to do wrong, and then started again as though he'd never stopped.

"So ol' buddy sat there in his garage with his bike, bitter as hell, and cussing anything that came across him. But eventually, he got a wrench in his hand, and then found the frame. One piece at a time, he figured it out. Don't get me wrong, guy really knew his trade, not a lot like 'em, but he got it back, a piece at the time, and put his whole bike back together. He may never ride again, but he got it fired up. Still makes bikes, custom. Got a gal who helps design 'em. Interesting couple." He trailed off, and Tyler looked up at him from the distance of the main hull of 2-6. He was picking threw a handful of grinder blades, prepping to start tearing into the frame.

"How does that apply to me," He asked at length. Kershaw didn't really answer, he just shrugged, and flipped his face shield down, then started grinding. What the hell does that mean? I'm not paraplegic. I just don't want to redo all my damn work, Ty thought, and went ahead and pulled the next piece of the frame. The idea here was Chief Alexander's, take away mass, and require less force to operate. All Vipers had triple redundant structural framing, and she'd gone through and determined which parts of the chassis weren't completely necessary. Ty had asked the obvious, why was it there at all, and all she'd said on the topic was that the government employed a strict CYA policy. So, they were gonna replace the harder, heavier metals with structural inconel, and lighten the load, so to speak. When he asked if it wouldn't make the Viper structurally weakened, Kershaw had shrugged and asked him if he intended to smash into things.

Kershaw wasn't always reassuring.

A few of the Hawks had been down to check on him, mostly the junior officers and a couple of the White Tigers, but for the most part, he was on his own. Which was ok, in a way, it wasn't the first time. Ty continued to pry off the crap that Kershaw pointed out, and eventually, he was handed a plasma cutter, and told to 'get to work'. Ty slipped on the cutting helmet, which stank of someone else's head odor, and cracked open the valve. The blueish flame was green through the eye shield, and it all turned white when he touched the metal.

He was surprised how slowly the cutter ate through the metal, or alloy, it seemed like something so hot would burn through anything. He'd seen torches cooler than this, slice right through the hull of ships that marines breached. So the whole experience of how strong the hard point alloy really was, was somehow asstonishing. It gave him a whole new respect for just how strong these things were, and he wondered how much of a beating the beefier Raptors could take. He knew they were warships, and built to last, but this was much stronger than he'd expected. Kershaw went on and on about the stuff. It was comprised of Iridium and lead and titanium and aluminium, and all kinds of crap. It was a surprise to learn that one of the metals in the alloy, was radioactive. Or something like it. Lead had been added to the mix to render that enert, Kershaw had told him that without it, a bullet hole could cause the armor of his own Viper to kill him, via irradiation. Ty asked about that in more detail, and was surprised at the nonchalant answer.

"Eh. The melting point is like, forty two hundred degrees. First, you'd have to break down tempered and coated plates, and then melt the lead out of it," He nodded his head in a way that seemed to say 'Not happinin', "Then you'd have to survive that, and then get a bullet through yer Vipo, then get back to the Ba'el Star before ya died. I mean. Is it physically possible? Sure. But thats one seriously convoluted ass way to go about dien. I think you'd kick the buck three times before ya got around ta landin with your hydraulic lines melted. But, thats another story. Besides, that's what containment protocol is for." And that was that. Kershaw was full of great information. He was one of those guys that was so smart, he kind of walked on past logical, and straight to morbid. Ty kind of liked him.

He set down the torch after squelching the flame and asked, "So, now we start putting back on the Inconel?"

Kershaw looked up, and said with a half smirk, "Lords naw LT, that's just the first one. Still got ta pull it off too. Got ta let it cool down first though, go ahead and move on ta the next one. Chief laid it out for us on that diagram there." He nodded beyond Tyler, and when Ty turned, he sighed. There were two dozen places or more that the Chief wanted removed.

"She gonna be faster and more agile with all this, right," He asked.

[Viktoriya Gilyov]

There was a certain Mark VII aboard the Patrolstar Achilles that had Viktoriya's heart. She remembered working long hours assisting in replacing the armored plating and the components that had been riddled with bullet holes underneath ---57 bullet holes to be exact, every projectile burning with the intent to drop her, but somehow not successful in their mark. The survival was incredible enough, but the damage report had been a frakking headache. They'd had to gut and replace a lot of the electronic systems. Her communications and weapons systems had been compromised, not to mention the meat and potatoes of it: damaged plating, missing components, and her starboard and port engines blown to hell. When she had been on alert, her flight suit was hanging around her waist and she'd been up to her eyeballs in wires and circuitry, not a master electrician but capable enough of following the diagrams and matching the wires up to their schematics. When she'd been off duty, she'd had a welding hood and gloves to protect herself from the rain of melted metal fragments. After that, Viktoriya had affectionately called the Viper Three-Nine Tyche, the name of a daughter of Aphrodite and the Goddess of Fortune. She missed Tyche. Tyche had saved her life.

The Viper that she now piloted didn't have the same such history with Viktoriya. She'd had to prove herself with it, and it with her. A Viper was an extension of her pilot, and pilot and Viper had to have a symbiotic relationship. Their fates depended on each other. She didn't often share her romanticized view of their ships, but she had it. She had named the Viper she now piloted Metis, the mother of Athena, and Goddess of wisdom, wise counsel, cunning skill, and crafts. Metis had gotten her name in 2002, while Viktoriya was still uncertain of who she---the Viper---was. Her first encounter had been flying lead on CAP, and intercepting a pirate who refused to respond in the orbit of Tauron. She'd locked on for 13 seconds, but hadn't taken the shot. Tensions there were so palpable that it would have been a disaster, but the show of force and the knowledge of her ability to scuttle the bogey ---by staying in the killzone and not being lost to the target's maneuverability--- had been enough to make it bug out and to quell the problem. That's when Metis had gotten her name. Metis was prudent, and so was Fox's first enemy encounter beneath the lady's canopy. It had been wise not to fire, and it had proven Fox's craft to have stayed in range.

Tyche and Metis (moreso Tyche, of course, but Metis had her place) were both part of Viktoriya. She'd been too hungover and wrapped up in her own concerns and mistakes to show Tyler the proper respect for his loss, but she was neither – nor right now. She made a beeline for the work-in-process. She was approaching while Kershaw was giving a long-winded and no-doubt macabre explanation. She remembered having one such herself, about an alternate universe in which she was naked in space:

Pulmonary barotrauma, when you try to hold your breath. You'd probably try to hold your breath. Most of them try to hold their breath; it seems to be the natural reaction before you can really gather your thoughts about it. The black isn't a pool, LT. It's more like---diving. The compressed gases in the lungs expand, understand? Pop like over-inflated balloons... Well.. Like fabric balloons threading out! He'd been grinning, using his hands to cup an imaginary lung and moving them outward to simulate the expansion and the ripping of the tissue (which was apparently signified by wiggling his fingers... ripping lung tissue totally looks like wiggling fingers). ... I'm not going to be jettisoned out of an airlock naked!

”Griffin. Kershaw.” She greeted them both with an amiable smile. By the looks of it, Tyler was in the middle of skimming the fat off his Viper... so to speak. The machines had enough speed to catch Hermes' eye without the alterations. Two-six was probably Hermes' pick of the fleet in her glory days... and would be again.

Kershaw grinned broadly when he saw Tori. They had a very amiable relationship (despite the fact that her unprotected exposure to space seemed to be a recurring theme in conversation). It was a little wrong, perhaps, but... he was still one of her favorites to work with. The alternate universe in which she was dying in space probably shouldn't have been funny, but it was. Kershaw was one of those people that one had to decide whether to laugh or uncomfortably avoid.

”I thought you might be able to use the help.” She glanced to the grinning Kershaw, again, and smirked a little herself. ”Since I haven't been hurled out of an airlock naked.” The chuckle Kershaw emitted was a satisfied one, as if he'd craved that statement like food.

Tori looked over the frame and had a more intense expression, her mind adding the circuitry and guts of the Viper, the plating and skin, and making the machine whole in her imagination. "Palaistra." She said the name quietly to herself, thoughtfully... It was just a name that combined the soul of Griffin and the machine of Two-Six to Vik in that moment. Palaistra was a daughter of Hermes, as Two-Six would doubtless be Hermes' pick... and she was the goddess of wrestling, physical prowess. It made her think of Griffin losing himself in the spar to Lars, totally consumed by the sport, by his own physical body, and melded perfectly that prowess with the speed of the god known best for it: Hermes. She smiled to herself, and looked back to Griffin rather than the aspiring Viper.

"I'll help any way I can."

The Viper had become more alive to Vik before she'd so much as lifted a welding torch. She---the Viper---had just become Palaistra in Vik's head. It was always easier to relate to someone with a name; that's why it was a common suggestion to tell your name to a criminal holding you at gunpoint. It was harder to kill someone that established themselves as alive by giving themselves a name. Criminals were people for whom humanity was largely a blur of faces that were not personal, and people eventually became to them means to an end... a person was just a face that the criminal would never see again. Furthering that line of thought, it was easier to care for someone that was alive to you... and easier to construct a Viper that was alive to you as well.

[Samuel Lion]

Samuel had finished in the gym about half an hour ago and went to the hawks quarters. When he got there the room was all but bare. He was told that people where off doing there own thing and that Ty was on the Hangar deck working on his viper. When Samuel hear this his ears perked up a bit and he had a sudden spurt of energy. Samuel was an aerospace engineer by knowledge and a viper jock by trade. Samuel took his engineering background and used it for most everything he did in the hot seat. He trained like an engineer specifically designing his workouts around the way he flew. Samuel got on his working fatigues and headed to the deck.

When Samuel got there he grabbed a leather apron and walked up to the others. He didn't catch much of the conversation but he heard Vik tell Ty that she would help in anyway she could. The bird had been stripped of most everything but its frame. Samuel smirked as he picked up the Schematics and said "Holy frak Tremaine what are we doing here running a viper chop shop." he said it in a joking tone and started looking over the plans he had for the structure of the bird.

Vipers where full of redundancies and from the looks of it he was removing most of them. The viper would go from a mass of around 25 tons to approximately 23 tons after he was done. They where shaving pounds here and there but the biggest changes where to removing some of the added structure. Who ever drew up the plans really knew what they where doing. It was a stroke of genius really. It would cut down the weight but wouldn't really damage the rigidity or structure of the bird. Yes he wouldn't be able to crash into the deck as hard as some of the "stock" vipers but if you hit the deck hard enough to destroy his lighter bird the other vipers would be scrap as well.

As Samuel continued to look at the plans he couldn't think of a way he would do it differently. "Who drew up these plans?" He said looking at Tyler. There was a sense of shock in his voice.

((( Let me know if there is anything i need to change.)))

[Tyler Tremaine]

”Griffin. Kershaw.” Viktoriya Gilyov called out from behind him. Ty turned and looked to her in the darkened world of his plasma visor. He held off from relighting his torch for a moment and lifted the 'lid' again. "Mornin Lt." Kershaw and she shared an odd look, and from it, Ty wondered at their ambial relationship. But then, Kershaw was like Striker, flirted with every woman he saw. Or at least, in front of Ty he did, well... cept maybe Alexander. She was kind of no-nonsense, made for bad flirting. Ty would know better than most, he tried here and there with the Chief, she never really showed much attention to him, other than a sense of aggravation. That in itself was almost enough reason to keep doing it.

”I thought you might be able to use the help.” She said to them both, then to Kershaw she added, ”Since I haven't been hurled out of an airlock naked.” It seemed to please them both. Ty wasn't entirely sure of the meaning behind that, but it did kinda further his theory that they had a little something on the side going. He didn't mind, nor would he say anything, it wasn't like Kershaw was their squad leader or anything. No real harm there. She seemed to look Two-Six over and muttered something under her breath. Ty was sure she was fixin to leave and escape the workload. Of all the Hawks, Vik wasn't known for her 'Family Feelings', so it was a surprise when she announced, "I'll help any way I can."

Ty was generally pleased with her willingness to help out. He didn't know how much she knew about structural fabrication, or assembly, but they could use the help. He only had a few days before the games. Chief Alexander had told him not to worry, that it would be done prior to the games, but they were leaving port later today, and he was officially working against the clock. "Thank you Fox, we'll take it. All we can get."

"I'd work better if we were naked in an airlock," Kershaw informed her. Ty looked straight at him. They were on duty, those kinds of jokes were not cute, nor could Officers reward them with any laughter.

"She's an Officer, and your on duty Specialist. Reword that now," He said in an even tone. Kershaw looked at him with blank eyes while he worked ou something in his head.

"I was... talking to you?" They shared an odd silence and Ty cocked his head sideways and rubbed his temple. For the first time since he'd seen Kershaw, the guy stopped talking and got back to work quickly. Ty turned towards Gilyov and took a breath through his nose before saying, "Really though, we could use your help over here. Chief gave us access to the tool room, provided we don't take any paint." He winked at her and was about to tell her about the plans when Adonis came out of nowhere. Must be sunshine time for the Hawks.

"Holy frak Tremaine what are we doing here running a viper chop shop." Lion joked. He looked over the schematics on the board, and seemed note everything. "Who drew up these plans," He asked, looking and sounding impressed.

"Why rook, you know something about it?"

It was mostly in jest, but it was actually Kershaw who answered him, "He ought to, got a degree in astro engineering, same as you. I think he had a higher grade though." Ty turned and faced Shaw again, a look of almost bewilderment in his eyes that seemed to say Dude?!? Shaw sort of, shrugged and added, "What? It's true, hell boss, he probably knows more about this stuff than you do. Be good to have someone around here that actually knows what their doing for a change..."

Ty raised his eyebrow and gestured at Kershaw with his work hand, "I'm still holdin this torch." Shaw grinned and chuckled while he went back to his work. "Won't change the truth LT."

Ty turned back towards Adonis and asked, "So you know somethin about this stuff then. Good, get ta work... Rook."

[Viktoriya Gilyov]

Kershaw was someone whose comments Tori overlooked. Ty's intolerance for him left her a little bemused. It wasn't that Ty was unprofessional by any means; on the contrary, Ty was more like Tori outside of their quarters, and more like Striker in them. She hadn't really considered which he'd be more like during Palaistra's construction. I was talking to you? could possibly have been the single worst attempt at covering one's own ass that Tori had ever seen, so she grinned and shook her head.

The revelations about Sam were interesting to say the least. She didn't have any particular thoughts about the nugget. He was just... the nugget. She didn't expect him to be a failure or incompetent by any means, but it was interesting to think that their innocent little nugget could be more of a Viper buff than their own Tremaine. That would be an interesting debate.

They were all assisting Griffin in giving birth to the new Viper 2-6... Palaistra, as Tori was affectionately deeming the project. If it could be considered giving birth, the labor pains were intense. They worked tirelessly, seemingly every bit as driven to see the bird in flight as Tremaine. He was their squad mate and friend, a Shadow Hawk in need. Tori wasn't about to leave him to fend for himself, and it seemed that Sam was of the same accord.

Piece by piece, the sections approved for removal were sloughed off like dead flesh from an organism. The project was taking shape with every segment add. With four able-bodied hands taking care of Palaistra, she was beginning to gain some health, to look more and more like the capable Viper she was going to be.

The conversation wasn't exactly sparse, but it was all technical things that only bore repeating until that particular hurdle was jumped. It was hard for Tori not to marvel at the product of concurrent labor, how much more quickly the machine was coming to life with Tori and Sam working together on certain projects, Tyler and Kershaw on others.