The two of us hurried out after him, wanting to make sure we didn't get lost. After we caught up to him we followed him to the maintenance shop where he set us up with some basic maintenance training sets and told us he would be back in a couple hours to give us a tour and show us where we will be working, then he left.
Walker and I looked at each other, shrugged, and plugged in, and went to sleep. After a couple hours, the system woke us up to find Chief Dakson standing by the console.
“Sleepy time is over, cadets. Lets hit the line then I will drop you off at the commissary for lunch.”
We unplugged and stood, a bit wobbly while we tried to compartmentalize the new routines we uploaded, and again followed him out into the, thankfully, dim hanger.
“Okay, boys, this hanger is going to be your home for the next week. We have a transient barracks on the top level where you will be bunking. You will report to this office each morning for your days assignment, and more than likely will spend your day in here doing it. About the only sun you will be getting is on your way to and from meals at the commissary on those days we forget to bring your box meals or when we open up to let a fighter fly in or out.
“You will have a session or two a day with the pilots, either in the lounge or aboard one of the craft, to familiarize yourselves with the layout and systems. This afternoon I will have Captain Clemmons give you a tour of this one here this afternoon.”
By that time we had reached the safety perimeter around the craft in the center of the hanger and started to walk around it. Walker and I couldn't help but stare up at in naked awe. Even the chief, I later realized, was looking at it with open admiration on his face. The big sphere was sitting in a gantry with all its weapons stripped from their mounts and we could still feel the deadly majesty of her.
I noticed some scarring and scorch marks along her sides, and as we came around further I saw several people high up her curve replacing buckled plating. “Chief, what happened to her?” I couldn't help but ask.
“A tender folded in from the border last week with a full attachment of damaged fighters. Apparently the Pax hit one of our outlying stations and caught a carrier as it was in the process of docking. It was able to get most of it's fighters to fall off before it was gutted by the light carrier and its squadron that skipped in. The base, surviving fighters, and the carrier escorts were able to wipe it out, but all in all it was a win for them. A carrier, a couple hundred fighters, a good portion of the station destroyed, a thousand personnel lost, and several dozen ships and fighters damaged. There was nothing living other on the ship other than itself on their end.”
I looked back at the chief. “How many did it bring in like this?”
“They brought twenty of them to us for repairs. Another fifty came in as scrap and spare parts. This one will be ready to fly in a couple days and is the last one with major damage. There are two outside needing cosmetic repairs, and those will be done by the end of the day. The last batch we finished repairing is out on test flights and will be hitching back up to the tender in the morning if everything tests out right.”
Nodding, I looked back at the old girl sitting there. We saw the others on our way in and it suddenly made sense why there were so many present. Something he said struck me then. I looked back and asked “The tender folded in?”
He looked at me and grinned. Walking away from the craft knowing that we would follow him he said “Yeah, it was a brand new ship, fresh off the Guild assembly lines. Beautiful ship, it can get anywhere on that new drive in no time at all.”
“Chief,” Walker spoke up. “Wouldn't the Pax be able to trace where it came with these to be repaired? If it jumped directly from the border, wouldn't it be easy to follow?”
Nodding, he replied “That is a concern and the LT has been on the comm chewing some major ass. They say the jump is untraceable, but personally I don't trust that there is some factions in the Guild that would be willing to plant traces. How can you truly trust an organization that sells to both sides? Nobody is truly neutral in anything. Don't worry, cadets, we have requested a patrol to skip in for station keeping in the station just on case.”
Concerned but somewhat mollified, we stepped outside to make our way to lunch. After the dim of the interior, it took a couple blinks to get my lenses to darken enough so I could see normally, and set them to lighten gradually so I could adjust to the light. Not that I had to worry about it too much, since the cafeteria was just across the street, so I had to go through another quick adjustment set as we entered.
“Just check in with the quartermaster and she will get you going. I have a lunch meeting with the LT, so I will see you back in front of the fighter in an hour.” With that he turned on his heel and left.
Thinking his abrupt departure was kind of strange, I made a comment to Walker about the type of lunch meeting he likely had with her and got an elbow in my side for the trouble. Irritated, I spun around to ask him what the hell that was for when I saw the quartermaster standing there. My planned comment fled, the blood drained from my face, and I started sweating under the cold stare of the woman.
“I would expect you to keep your speculations concerning your senior officers and non-coms to yourself, especially when you are somewhere you can be overheard. Follow me, and I suggest you keep you mouth shut.”
I stammered out a “yes, ma'am,” suffered under a laughing smile from Walker, and followed her to the chow line.
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