"Understood. Your request to dock is granted. Proceed when pattern is clear. Welcome back, Lieutenant."
I should really focus on finding out who the Essex's Combat Traffic Controller is. She has such a lovely voice. Very welcoming, especially after a patrol like this.
Two weeks, now. Two weeks since I've been redeployed. To Dublin space, of all places. It's like the gold in this system is driving every prospecting miner in Sirius crazy. And along with the hype, comes piracy. Dublin really became some sort of open-air bazaar.
But I can't say that I miss the Suffolk, either. Yeah, it was really cozy and the food was out of this world. All the young Royals were stationed there, sons and daughters of Bretonian aristocrats. But that's where the problem lied. It's hard to come across people who're more disconnected from reality than these young, reckless pilots with not a worry in the world. I have no idea why I was deployed there in the first place. New London space is the calmest in the entire House.
Signalmen on the Flight Deck are directing fighters and bombers to their respective parking areas
I took off my helmet and took a deep breath of air. There's always this weird smell inside battleships. It's no different anywhere I go, in Bretonia or in Rheinland. It's the same fragrance of engine components, alloys and that funky smell CO2 scrubbers leave after doing their thing.
"Lieutenant Aleski, welcome back. So, any feedback on the energy calibrations we made to the Debilitators? We fixed the energy core jitter problem you've been having."
That's one thing I never get sick of, though. The Bretonian Armed Forces really has the best engineers around. They are so attentive to detail and are experts in ship maintenance and repair. They are seriously under-rated. I gave the engineer the thumbs up, he understood right away. He ran off to join a larger group of engineers and mechanics working on a damaged Templar. It was chewed up good, as it was missing all of its starboard wing and had dents all over the body.
Once I finished checking off the post-flight checklist, I stepped out of the cockpit and hastily made my way back to the upper decks. I must've lost 3-4 pounds through sweat because of this flight suit. Bretonians make them heavy and they're obviously not made to walk in. But really, that suit has saved my life more times than I can recall. For one, it's impervious to coolant leaks and is fireproof.
The corridors of the Operations Deck are bustling with various people, most of them pilots preparing to go on a patrol
Ever since Marshal Law was enacted in Dublin, this place became some sort of a booming town. Some 70 new pilots from other fleets were sent to reinforce the 6th Fleet. Most came from the 9th Fleet, based on the Ark Royal, due to the peace talks with the Mollys. I saw some from the 4th Fleet based on the Norfolk and 2-3 others from Harlow, even. More are expected to redeploy to Dublin within the following weeks. I'm just wondering when I'm going to get my insignia patch. I still have the 5th Fleet insigna proudly stuck on both my upper arms and it's annoying me. Indeed, people keep calling me "Royal" now...
The usual bustle of the Ops Deck fade away as one enters the Debriefing Room
After each patrol, the pilots go to the Debriefing Room, where we discuss the last patrol and talk about ways to prevent mistakes, or boast about how better than the enemy we were. Regardless, things tend to turn silly after 20 minutes or so of discussion. Either way, once that is done, pilots often go back to Flight Deck to consult with engineers and mechanics about flight dynamics and things like that.
The crew quarters are located above the Operations Deck, commonly referred to as Deck 2, given its location right about the Flight Deck
Finally, my flight suit is no longer on me. Suddenly, my legs feel so much stronger. Walking is a breeze and my pace is faster than usual. This phenomenon remains for a few hours, usually. I'm in my regular "No. 3 Service Uniform", which is essentially a pair of navy blue pants, a similarly colored shirt and rank tabs on my shoulder. Actually, I forgot to put in my new tabs. They said I'd get them tomorrow. Either way, I'm just glad I'm not in my flight suit.
Life on a battleship is not easy. There's never a "dead" moment in the day. There's always something going on. As soon as one patrol comes back, there's another one ready to go. Pilots come in and go out to space, engineers are frantically running about with data pads in their hands for Lord knows what reason, hundreds of servicemen and women toiling at their usual activities... it's effectively impossible to find one place on this ship that is motionless.
Luckily for me, however, I got promoted right before being redeployed to the Essex, meaning I have the privilege of having my own (small) living quarter. A room small enough to house a bed, a table and a small cabinet. But it was my room. No sharing with anyone. My little Heaven. It was always my favorite part of the day; getting here and shutting the door behind me. Silence.
I file my report for the day, then I lay on my bed, thinking.
