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| − | {{SceneLog
| + | Redacted |
| − | |Location=ABS Destiny
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| − | |IC Date=2535/07/06
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| − | |OOC Date=2014/09/16
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| − | |Characters in Scene=Dinger, Darling
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| − | |Short Summary=Darling instructs Dinger in the fine art of Slack.
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| − | |Full Log=Aboard the ASREV, after ferrying several senior officers down from the ship, Dinger sticks his head into the cockpit. It's not huge, so spotting Darling is no issue. "You need a hand, Sir?"
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| − | Darling's legs stick out from under the panel while music that was popular ten years ago plays on the comm. Upon recognizing Dinger's voice and hearing no other, he extricates himself from the spot and grins, "Oh, no... I got avoiding brass down to a tee. But feel free to grab a seat if you're looking' for a place to lay low." All pretense of rank is missing from his tone.
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| − | Dinger does indeed take a seat, then, after a moment's though, he leans down so he can see what Darling is doing. "You actually fiddling with things in there Sir?" he asks, with a faint hint of concern, "or just looking the part?" One he can cope with no hassle, the other may give him a few grey hairs.
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| − | Darling answers with a look of incredulity. "I might be a slacker, but I don't have a death wish." He pulls himself up into the pilot's seat and points to the breaker panel just past his reach when his arm is at rest. "I knew an old warrant officer that liked to harass the new marines. You know, the cocky ones just getting out of school?" He taps the switch. "A little accidental bump of that will re-run the diagnostics and cycle the system. You never seen so many tough guys get quiet when the air goes down."
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| − | Dinger relaxes into the seat again as Darling confirms he isn't actually trying to fix anything. A glance to the panel as it's indicated and a nod to the comment about fresh marines, and then he grins a little. "Ah, I see. Well, that'd explain why I saw nothing wrong aft." He peers for just a moment at the switch in question, then turns back to Darling, "I'd say be careful not to cycle it while we in the Black, but I'm guessing you know that well enough already."
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| − | Darling retrieves a hip flask from his inside breast pocket and uncorks, then, so it doesn't look like entrapment, he takes a pull before offering it to the non-com. Getting past the burn of the whiskey, he says, "Yeah, purple and bloated is not my look at all. But on a simple deploy from orbit we could make the whole run on what's in the cabin."
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| − | Dinger concurs with that, and nods once to indicate such, "aye, I did notice, and was very thankful, for the fact that it went once we'd passed the danger point." Taking the flask he sniffs it carefully a moment, as if to determine what's inside, then smiles a quick thanks before takes a pull himself. "Want me to go grab one of the manuals from the engine room by the way, just in case anyone sticks their head in to see how we're doing? Nothing like manuals to drive away the uninitiated."
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| − | Darling bellows out a laugh that nearly rocks the ship. "Gorramit, Sarge, you're a good man. Make it so and the next belt is yours." He sets the flask on the center console and slips himself back up under the console to get comfortable. There was a surprising amount of leg room due to the long nose of the craft.
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| − | It only takes a few moments for Dinger to return with a manual, and a relevant manual at that. Settling back down into the co-pilot's chair he idly flicks though it until he finds a reasonable page, then puts it down on the console in front of him. "That ought to do it, although if at any point you get uncomfortable let me know and I'm happy to swap." That said it's time for another slug of whiskey before he recaps the flask and reaches down to set it within reach of Darling. "Your choice of music sir? Or just tuned into the local station."
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| − | "Neo Blues is fine with me", calls out the Lt. from his spot. "It's just a shame they don't seem to route anything important though the crew accommodations." His hand emerges, feeling around for the oblong silver container. "Check the viewport, wouldja? Are they still standing' around out there giving themselves the warm and fuzzies?"
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| − | Dinger pushes himself to his feet again, twisting slightly to get a reasonable view of the merry band outside. "Aye, or at least none of them seem to be heading back this way." Slumping back into the chair again he lifts his feet up so they're resting on the pilot's chair then asks, "so what's your story then LT? Late to sign up, or got something juicy on your record?"
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| − | "Juicy?" Darling asks amused, "Feculent would be a better word for it." Not finding the flask with his fingers, he pops out again to look. "You know, I don't think I ever figured that out until the skipper let me start logging time in the smaller ships. I guess boredom is what's done me in." He chases down the truth with a hard belt. "What about you? You know your way around the tech and you're certainly no idiot. OCS never appealed?"
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| − | Dinger rubs his leg a moment, then reaches down once he notes Darling hunting for the flask. He's beaten to it though and leans back once more. "Me? Not a huge amount to tell. I did twelve years in the Navy, met a girl, decided to marry her rather than re-up. Only problem is it didn't work and she took just about everything in the divorce, so I figured I'd give DAS a try. Was there for just over a month when this rejig came through." The mention of OCS gets an amused grin though and he shakes his head, "OCS? Can't say I've ever given it serious though, but I don't see myself joining the darkside somehow."
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| − | Darling snorts at the mech's opinion of the officer corps, "Hey now! It's not all that bad. There's cake on thursdays." He takes his pull, grimacing from whiskey and wives. "Yeah, they do that", says the pilot in a knowing tone. "No kids I hope", he adds, setting the flask back on the console.
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| − | Dinger makes a brief show of pondering options before shrugging, "cake eh? Now you're talking, and I bet those cabins of yours are better than the berthings." Ah, enlisted accommodation, no naval architect has ever given that much space. "Hows the cash compare? Never seem to end up with enough at month's end." Then a shake of his head, "nah, no kids, only married a year. Lost my business though, and most of what savings I had. Shame, in some ways, Newhall was a damn nice place to live. Beach parties into the night, lots of pretty ladies..." he trails off with a grin, "might retire then again some day."
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| − | Darling keys in a few digits on his smart comm, thumbing through a few years of leave and earnings statements and comes up with his current account balance. He turns the screen to show a whopping 238.07 credits and says, "Pay? We get paid? That hover bike sucked up everything I had in savings, but hey." He pontificates, "We have, what? seventy years if we're lucky? Might as well live life now, right?" Sigh. Then, a small idea takes shape in the Lt.'s eyes. "What kind of business did you do? Mechanincal?"
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| − | "I know exactly what you mean," Dinger replies, grin broadening as Darling mentions a bike, "that's where most of mine goes too. Next time we're near Londinium you have to come see her, she's pretty sweet." Damn it but he misses that bike right now. "Yeah, started a bike and mule repair place, but like I say, it's gone now. Think it got sold off to some rim-hick."
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| − | Darling chews on his lip for a moment, working out what seems to be geometry by his expression. "I'd like that. I'd like that indeed." Even though he had not missed the razor this morning, his chin was growing dark and itchy. Rubbing it, he says, "If I don't manage to take command of our air group when it comes online, I think it might be time to start putting together a retirement package." Looking at the Sargent, he asks, "You got a long time left on your enlistment?"
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| − | "Don't get married, that's my advice," Dinger notes with faint amusement, "but yeah, Newhall ain't bad for somewhere outside of the Core." The final question gets a grin and he replies, "I've been back in for maybe six months, tops, you can't get rid of me that easily I'm afraid LT."
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| − | Darling smiles ruefully, "Not my intention at all, Sargent. The old lady needs you and while I dream of getting the hell out of this one day, I'm too gorram lazy to try anything on my own." Quite done with the liquor considering he'll be flying sometime early in the morning hours, he sits back and puts his own feet up as well, letting the guitar work carry back thoughts of youth misspent. "You listen to this stuff, or you keeping up with the times?"
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| − | An order blasts out over the music for Captain Saint.
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| − | [143.43 MHZ Ch:2] Darling transmits, "Captain? We have an 'eyes only' for you on the cortex."
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| − | Dinger doesn't ask if Darling means Connie or the Destiny when he says 'old lady', but the thought amuses him for a moment as he considers his answer to that. "I guess I listen to whatever is on the radio at the time, listen to it mostly when I'm working on the bike, so it's just in the background." He might have gone on, but the cortex traffic has him slipping his feet onto the floor again and reaching for the manual. Incoming brass alert, incoming brass alert.
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| − | [143.43 MHZ Ch:2] Connie says, "I'll take it in the ASREV, if Destiny can link it down." <English>
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| − | [143.43 MHZ Ch:2] You transmit, "It's awaiting your encryption key on the port bunk monitor." <English>
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| − | [143.43 MHZ Ch:2] Connie says, "Thank you, Lt. Saint out." <English>
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| − | Darling handles his duties without resenting the interruption upon his idle chatter. In fact, it serves as no interruption at all and he says, "Yeah, when I lived alone, I pretty much had the thing running night and day to keep from going nuts." He hears the hatchway to the port bunk swing shut, and with the C.O. sequestered for god only knows how long, he reluctantly slips the flask into his boot. "Offer still stands on getting' your bike out here. For the time being I've got free run of the shuttles until I pass my rating and nobody has said a word about Maxine back there in the back."
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| − | "I'd owe you a pint of something if you could," Dinger replies with regards to his bike, "had to leave it in the lab at the old DAS building." With the hatchway to the port bunk now shut he puts the manual back on the console and relaxes again, "you race?"
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| − | Pushing to a stand, Daring grins, "Does an '03 without extenders shake itself to pieces?" He starts back to see what the captain needs of him next and says over his shoulder, "Give me a week and I'll have us an excuse to make the Londinium run."
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