"There's always some motherfucker trying to ice skate uphill." - The Daywalker, Second Vampire War, TerraSol, Age of Paranoia
"Where there's a whip, there's a way!" - Unknown, Age of Myth & Legend, TerraSol
"You die; she dies; everybody dies!" Warlord Ard, Age of Myth & Legend, TerraSol
Specialist Grade Five Armkept had been having good morning. PT had been fun and engaging, breakfast had been delicious, his shower warm and steamy, and his uniform had been nicely creased but still soft and comfortable. A Lieutenant had complimented the shine of his boots as he had walked back from the mess hall to his quarters.
He was whistling a recent pop-tune out of Rigel as the door opened into the Ready Room where troops did last minute element level gearing up for a mission.
When he saw who was standing next to the door to his Arms Room, reading the plas sheets magtapped to the wall, the whistle dried up in his throat.
The Drimarian Master Armorer, Specialist Grade Five Gulgulka, turned at the sound of the door. The Drimarian's uniform was pressed and starched, everything exactly as it should be, and his boots and leather belt were polished to a high gloss.
Armkept just knew it was with KiwiBlack, not something like Mopppenglow or other cheating methods.
The Drimarian lifted up on his toes and back down, harrumphing deep in his throat.
"Before I continue to address you, Telkan Marine doctrine and regulations are contradictory.
"Specialist Armkept is fine," the Telkan Marine said, staring.
"Excellent," Gulgulka motioned at the Arms Room door. "Your TO&E was upgraded at 2236 Hours last night.
Armkept felt a sinking sensation in his guts. He just knew that his whole day had been ruined.
We drop out of hyperspace in 32 hours, maybe I'll get lucky and the Mar-gite are already there and I'll be deployed to the surface in a jockstrap and reflective belt, the Telkan thought. He nodded at the Drimarian. "All right," he turned his palm up as he moved toward the Arms Room door and checked his email accounts. "Huh, I don't have the TO&E update."
"I will remedy that," Gulgulka said, harrumphing. The Drimarian made a tossing motion and Armkept found a priority update from Corps. There were clearance and access codes and permissions attached. "You must be ready to pass inspection very soon."
"Yeah," Armkept managed to avoid slumping in resignation as he opened the door with the physical keys for the mechanical locks. The Arms Room opened up and Armkept hit the lights.
"Let us examine and inspect your Arms Room to see what defects there are that must be remedied," the Gulgulka said, moving in, his hands behind his back and clenched together.
The next hour make Armkept want to scream. Every item had to be accounted for by lot number, Confederate Department of War Accountability Control Number, Telkan Department of War Accountability Control Number, Confederate Department of War Inventory Control Number, and Telkan Department of War Inventory Control Number. Each item had to be inspected closely, sometimes with a molecular scanner for the molecular circuitry unit.
Gulgulka seemed to be able to sniff out the slightest defect or flaw, an almost uncanny sense that had Armkept ready to start screaming, go on a shooting spree, kill himself, or maybe all three at once.
After another hour of absolute misery, Gulgulka stood in the middle of the Arms Room, going down his checklist.
"Your Arms Room does not match your Table of Organization and Equipment, Specialist Armkept," the Drimarian said. It had gotten to the point that Armkept didn't even notice the harrumphs any more.
Armkept slumped. "What now?"
"Your Armor Inventory Control Sheet shows that you should be in possession of one hundred eighteen Helreginn, Mark II, Anti-Mar-gite Full Contact Powered Combat Personal Protective Equipment Systems," Gulgulka said. He shook his head. "You do not have the update to the inventory. I will remedy that."
Armkept blinked rapidly as Gulgulka opened up his palm mounted holoemitter and started tapping through boxes, data sheets appearing in Armkept's vision.
"The Helreginn suit was devised during the last Mar-gite War, not the Mar-gite Resurgence. The war ended with the Mark II Type IV suits in production. However, they were never deployed and update packages were never transmitted to the Mar-gite Containment Zone," the Drimarian harrumphed. "During the Resurgence, certain flaws and suboptimal system performance design flaws were corrected by the issuing of the Mark III, which slowly moved to the Mark VI."
Armkept kept blinking away the sheets as fast as they were coming in.
"Checking the Corps databases last night, I determined that the final upgrade was a mere two hundred sixteen years four months nineteen days ago. That resulted in the Helreginn Mark VI Type IX series, which is mission configurable and an upgrade of six hundred thirty eight point two nine five percent in survivability for the operator," Gulgulka said. He paused to harrumph a few times. He turned and moved toward the door. "Last night at sixteen thirty two hours shipboard, the Corps Level Master Armorer resigned and I was occupationally promoted to take his place although that position requires a Specialist Grade Eight and I am a Specialist Grade Five, meaning I lack training and experience under most circumstances. I filed a formal protest to my promotion to Specialist Grade Six with shipboard PERSCOM at seventeen seventeen hours shipboard time."
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Armkept locked the door and pulled the barred door into position and locked it while the Drimarian monologued.
"I find such a promotion to be dangerous. Promotions should only take place due to realities of a hazardous deployment zone or through the point and time in grade and service system," Gulgulka led Armkept down the corridors. "However, my protest was overridden, leaving the Division Master Armorer position vacant."
He glanced back.
"Pray to whomever or whatever you worship that you are not promoted in such an untidy manner," he said.
Armkept just nodded.
"My first posting was as an Armorer for a Confederate Space Force unit in the Lanaktallan Star Herd nation. A posting that set my habits, biases, and methods, something I do not apologize for," Gulgulka stated. "It was there I learned that graffiti was for the hazard zone, not the armory, and that operator modifications had to be removed to ensure that the war material can be properly PMCSd (Preventive Maintenance Checks & Services) to discover any defects."
They were silent as they walked for nearly thirty minutes to reach one of the massive fabrication bays. Gulgulka consulted his palm emitter and followed the arrow until they found a HiKruth standing in front of three massive Class XXX Creation Engines. He had all four hands clasped behind his back and his four legs were stiff with anger.
"You are Technical Sergeant First Class Numvattra Drossman?" Gulgulka asked.
The HiKruth turned around. "Whose asking?" his voice was obviously irritated.
If Gulgulka noticed, he didn't seem to care.
"I am the Corps Master Armorer, assigned position by Captain N'Skrek's command staff," he pointed at the Telkan next to him. "This is Specialist Grade Five Armkept, Master Armorer for the 9th Telkan Power Armor Battalion."
"So?" the HiKruth was obviously unhappy about being disturbed.
"I have put in a requisition for one hundred eighteen Helreginn Mark VI Type IX Anti-Mar-gite Full Contact Powered Combat Personal Protective Equipment Systems eleven times in the last sixteen hours," Gulgulka stated. "Procurement Command granted me access to five Class XXX Creation Engine Systems, each capable of producing a full suit every fifty-two seconds of dry print, yet you have not responded to a single email or requisition and the creation engines allocated to the Corps Master Armorer appear to still be cold and dark. As warsteel is needed, I had expected that the creation engines would be heated and ready to go."
Armkept was suddenly glad that the HiKruth were renown for their patience. He would have started screaming or lost focus about twenty words into that monologue.
"They aren't responding. They have not been responding since I was assigned to them," the HiKruth snarled.
Armkept realized he was seeing a HiKruth that had run out of patience.
"So, if your cold blooded ass can figure out how to get them to even talk to us, you're more than welcome to try," Drossman snarled.
Gulgulka just turned his palm up again, consulting his holoemitter. He consulted a few charts and what Armkept was sure was the TO&E for Fabrication Bay 19, then simply walked away.
Drossman had turned back to the creation engines and while Armkept watched the HiKruth suddenly leaned forward, glaring at the creation engines.
"WAKE UP!" the quadruped screamed.
The creation engines just sat there.
"You'd have to rip apart the ship to pull them and they have never worked," Drossman snarled, turning away from the massive orbs. "They have power. The computers will tell you they are on. Other than that, they just fucking ignore me."
Armkept just shrugged.
"Yeah, your fuzzy ass is a great help," Drossman grumbled. He moved forward and hit the side of one of the massive orbs, the iris large enough to allow a heavy main battle tank to move through it. "WAKE UP, DAMN YOU!"
After a minute Gulgulka returned with a human following him.
"This is Technical Sergeant Grade Nine Longarms (Deceased)," Gulgulka stated. "He was in charge of these very creation engines. He had informed me that he can get them working."
"Sure, why not?" the HiKruth snarled, stalking away to stand about twenty meters away, fuming.
The human moved up to the creation engine, rubbing the side. "Come on, sweetie. It's wakeup time," he said gently, like he was talking to a child. "I know, I know, he keeps yelling at you."
Armkept could swear he saw little tendrils of purple electricity arc between the edge of the human's hand and the shell of the creation engine.
"I need you and your sisters to wake up. I'm sorry I left. No, I won't let him hit you any more. Come on, sweetie, wake up," the human said.
Armkept noticed that Gulgulka was just standing there, watching, his face as expressionless as ever. The HiKruth was just fuming.
He opened his mouth to ask how talking to it like it was a pouting podling was going to help when there was a sudden deep THRUUUUUM noise from the one the human was touching.
The creation engines on either side repeated it, one after another.
The lights came fully on in the fabrication unit. Gantries and lifters powered up. Holosigns flickered to life.
The panel on the side of the creation engine opened up, revealing a mechanical keyboard and a flatscreen LCD monitor.
"That's a good girl. Let's run a diagnostic, see how you are, then we'll get to work," the human said. He looked at Gulgulka. "You'll have your TO&E filled within the next two hours or I'll send you a notification as to why."
"Very well. I will need you to notarize a statement that it is being delayed," Gulgulka said, stepping forward and holding out a dataslate. The human scanned the document, nodded, and pressed his thumb to the box. It beeped and Gulgulka nodded. "Our required duty to one another has concluded at this time."
"Until next time," the human said. He waved at the HiKruth. "Come here, we need to talk about SeeSee and her sisters."
"There should be armors waiting for us at your armory, delivered by the shipboard automated transport system," Gulgulka said. He turned and began walking out. "We have much to do, Telkan. The fleet drops from hyperspace soon."
He glanced at Armkept.
"We must ensure we are ready."
Armkept decided he was going to get drunk as soon as he was off duty.
If he ever got off duty.
-----
"Did you see this bullshit?" Jaskel asked Corporal Plekrin, tapping the hologram he was projecting from his palm for emphasis.
"The stupid armory shit?" Plekrin asked.
"Yeah. Seriously, Armkept wants us to come in at eighteen hundred to resynch our suits? Seems like he could have had us come in and do it the last four days instead of hiding in the armory playing with his dick," Jaskel asked.
Plekrin nodded. "No shit. Seriously, the only thing lazier than an armorer is an orderly room clerk."