pointed towards a small open hatch, “Officer Country, we have a twenty two year old lieutenant.”
Looking through the hatchway, Brewster only commented, “Hope he’s small.” The comment set both NCOs off in a loud round of laughter.
“OK, here’s the port weapons station, your new home.” The cabin was twenty foot by twenty foot. The entire exterior wall was a window. A large weapons console on one side of the cabin faced the window. The rest of the room was filled with a bunk and huge built in wall lockers. “I made the command decision that you should be immediately available if we are attacked. If you prefer there’s a cabin next to the lieutenant, just not as big as his. I’m in the starboard weapons station.”
“Looks like you did us right chief. Now what do I call you and which of us is senior?” Brewster asked, warming up to the Navy puke.
“Call me “Guns”, for what it’s worth you can be in charge until the officers get onboard and start mucking things up. What do you answer to?”
“Just call me Jimmy. There any food on this thing? I always did like Navy chow.”
“Prepare to be disappointed. Just stow your gear and we’ll head for the ward room, maybe we’ll see the lieutenant.” Entering the ward room a strange rancid smell was coming from the food processor. Opening the door to the small unit there was a plate with something that looked like brown pudding. “You hungry Jimmy?”
“You are a sick fuck, Guns. What is that?”
“This stuff just shows up. If you tell it what you want, it will make it for you. Call it chef.”
“Chef, I would like a quarter pound of french fries please.”
Noises started to come from the food processor then there was a “Ding.” Opening the door to the unit a pile of white pudding was on a plate. Removing the plate Jimmy smelled the concoction and almost dropped the plate. “Well there’s still time to stock up on field rats and condiments I guess.”
“Don’t sweat it, Jimmy. I found some boxes of uniforms and made a deal with a Master Chief on the Arizona Space Ship Nike. They have human modified food processors. He is sending a detail over to install it today. So be sure everything is secured when they come on board or they’ll steal us blind.”
“Should be interesting to see how it fares with whatever we have for an electrical system.”
“That’s why you always hire a professional! Come on, I’ll show you the rest of the ship.”
Lt. Commander Kyle Johnson was personally supervising the simulator being off loaded in the bay of the Arizona Space Ship Cornucopia. After 5 days he decided it more important to have it near the real thing so he could make comparisons and learn the real ship. The chief of the boat was helping him as the ships commander expressed an interest in there being no problems. Seeing the raider for the first time Kyle suddenly heard, “Oh gawd help us we’re all doomed.” Looking over to see who made the comment Guns turned, came to attention and saluted. “Looks like we're not done with each other yet sir.”
“Damn it’s good to see you, Chief. What’s your assessment of the situation,” Kyle asked jovially.
“I believe we may have a chance to survive if we start running now sir,” Guns replied seriously.
“Explain, Guns,” Kyle replied as he started to tense.
“Sir, I’ve been here almost three days and haven’t learned a damn thing other than the food processor is shit. Haven’t gotten shit for help other than the team that removed the weapons that then disappeared. Haven’t got squat for documentation or manuals. Our other crew chief is Army with only helo experience, looking to me for guidance. We also got our weapons/nav officer. I was going to take a moment and teach the tyke about the birds and bees. Seeing you sir, has given me my first thought we may survive. Rant off sir.”
“Chief, I come bearing gifts. I have a simulator for this beast and multiple files on maintenance
Looking through the hatchway, Brewster only commented, “Hope he’s small.” The comment set both NCOs off in a loud round of laughter.
“OK, here’s the port weapons station, your new home.” The cabin was twenty foot by twenty foot. The entire exterior wall was a window. A large weapons console on one side of the cabin faced the window. The rest of the room was filled with a bunk and huge built in wall lockers. “I made the command decision that you should be immediately available if we are attacked. If you prefer there’s a cabin next to the lieutenant, just not as big as his. I’m in the starboard weapons station.”
“Looks like you did us right chief. Now what do I call you and which of us is senior?” Brewster asked, warming up to the Navy puke.
“Call me “Guns”, for what it’s worth you can be in charge until the officers get onboard and start mucking things up. What do you answer to?”
“Just call me Jimmy. There any food on this thing? I always did like Navy chow.”
“Prepare to be disappointed. Just stow your gear and we’ll head for the ward room, maybe we’ll see the lieutenant.” Entering the ward room a strange rancid smell was coming from the food processor. Opening the door to the small unit there was a plate with something that looked like brown pudding. “You hungry Jimmy?”
“You are a sick fuck, Guns. What is that?”
“This stuff just shows up. If you tell it what you want, it will make it for you. Call it chef.”
“Chef, I would like a quarter pound of french fries please.”
Noises started to come from the food processor then there was a “Ding.” Opening the door to the unit a pile of white pudding was on a plate. Removing the plate Jimmy smelled the concoction and almost dropped the plate. “Well there’s still time to stock up on field rats and condiments I guess.”
“Don’t sweat it, Jimmy. I found some boxes of uniforms and made a deal with a Master Chief on the Arizona Space Ship Nike. They have human modified food processors. He is sending a detail over to install it today. So be sure everything is secured when they come on board or they’ll steal us blind.”
“Should be interesting to see how it fares with whatever we have for an electrical system.”
“That’s why you always hire a professional! Come on, I’ll show you the rest of the ship.”
Lt. Commander Kyle Johnson was personally supervising the simulator being off loaded in the bay of the Arizona Space Ship Cornucopia. After 5 days he decided it more important to have it near the real thing so he could make comparisons and learn the real ship. The chief of the boat was helping him as the ships commander expressed an interest in there being no problems. Seeing the raider for the first time Kyle suddenly heard, “Oh gawd help us we’re all doomed.” Looking over to see who made the comment Guns turned, came to attention and saluted. “Looks like we're not done with each other yet sir.”
“Damn it’s good to see you, Chief. What’s your assessment of the situation,” Kyle asked jovially.
“I believe we may have a chance to survive if we start running now sir,” Guns replied seriously.
“Explain, Guns,” Kyle replied as he started to tense.
“Sir, I’ve been here almost three days and haven’t learned a damn thing other than the food processor is shit. Haven’t gotten shit for help other than the team that removed the weapons that then disappeared. Haven’t got squat for documentation or manuals. Our other crew chief is Army with only helo experience, looking to me for guidance. We also got our weapons/nav officer. I was going to take a moment and teach the tyke about the birds and bees. Seeing you sir, has given me my first thought we may survive. Rant off sir.”
“Chief, I come bearing gifts. I have a simulator for this beast and multiple files on maintenance
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