“That’s not the problem. We just need some idea what to do with all the… stuff.”
“There’s a washing system down there. Didn’t anyone show the riders?”
“Apparently not.”
“Fisk!” the chief snarled. “Bosun! You’re in charge.”
“Got it, Chief,” a muscular woman yelled to him over the wind and rain.
“Let’s go, sir,” the chief said, working his way aft.
When they got through the hatch the chief said “Faugh” at the smell, then looked around for the riders.
“Warrant, weren’t you briefed on the cleaning apparatus?” he yelled over the screeching wyverns.
“No, Chief, we weren’t,” Jerry called back. “What cleaning apparatus?”
As it turned out there was a saltwater pump and a draining system that the chief identified. Then he gave a short class on its use. The pump could be operated by two people, but four was better. The water drained to one of four points in the compartment where it was collected in a pipe that led to the exterior of the ship.
“There’s a one-way valve at the end,” the chief explained. “But in this sea you’re going to have to pump it out as well.” He showed them that pump. “With only the two enlisted riders there’s no way you can clean all this up,” he finally admitted.
“I can help,” Herzer interjected.
“No, I’ll get a working party,” the chief said. “Could I speak to you two young gentlemen?”
He led them over to a corner of the compartment and put his hands on his hips.
“I appreciate as much as anyone when officers are willing to get their hands dirty,” he said, looking them both in the eye. “We’ve had some young gentlemen come on this ship and think they’re too good to do anything but walk around with their noses in the air. But you’re officers, sirs, and your job really is to supervise. That’s not another word for sitting on your ass, sirs; it means just what it means. And, frankly, this isn’t even a job for officers to supervise, it’s for a petty, one of your sergeants, to handle. Your job’s to figure out what’s going to happen next, sirs, while my job, your sergeant’s job, is to handle what’s happening now.”
“Understood, Chief,” Herzer said, grinning to finally feel back in the military. “Thanks for the kick in the ass.”
“I understand too, Chief,” Jerry said with a sigh. “I’m too used to being the doer.”
“Well, you’re a warrant, sir,” the chief said with a frown. “Warrants, really, are doers, too. But not cleaning up shit and piss and puke. That’s what enlisted men are for,” he added with a chuckle. “Have these boys been fed?”
“They puked it all up,” Jerry said. “And, yeah, that’s got me worried.”
“And they get angry when they’re hungry,” the chief said.
“They’re too sick and nervous to be angry now,” Jerry said.
“But when they’re over being sick and nervous?” the chief prompted.
“I wouldn’t put an arm though the bars,” Jerry admitted.
“With all due respect, sir, I’d suggest feeding them. Even though they puke it up. As you can see, now, we can clean that up easy enough.”
“Agreed, Chief,” the warrant said, then grinned. “Ever thought of being a rider, Chief?”
“Not on your life, sir,” the NCO replied. “I’ll tell you the truth, I don’t even like climbing the rat-lines. I’m so afraid of heights it’s not funny. I’d rather eat dirt for the rest of my life. How’s the commander?”
“You mean Joanna?” Jerry asked. “She’s not sick, except at the smell. She’ll be glad to get the area cleaned out.”
The chief looked at the deck overhead for a moment then smiled.
“I wonder if she minds rain?”
They moved forward to where the dragon was curled up, looking at the bedlam with a beady eye.
“Commander Gramlich, we’re going to get this area cleaned out,” the chief said. “But it will be a bit and it will get messy. I was wondering if you might be okay with moving to the landing platform.”
Joanna looked at him for a moment then rustled her wings.
“I weigh nearly two tons, Chief,” she answered after a moment’s thought. “I notice that the ship tends to… move when I do. That’s why I’m placed damned near the center of the ship. Won’t the skipper have something to say about that?”
“Well, ma’am, as it happens, we’re in the process of moving some weight aft…”
“And I’m a nice mobile weight?” she asked with a chuckling hiss.
“I’d not put it like that, ma’am,” the chief said with a smile. “But we can lower the ramp easy enough, even in this sea. The toughest part will be opening and closing the hatch. But if you were to nip through quick-like…”
“Be sure to tell the skipper and then, yes, I’m game,” Joanna said. “Anything to get out of this damned hold.”
“Annibale, Bodman,” PO Singhisen said. “Fall out for a working party.”
It felt like Joel had just gotten his eyes closed. With the storm he’d been in the galley getting the fires put out and making sure everything was lashed down. So had Bodman, for that matter, who was one of the mid-watch cooks.
“I just put my head down, PO!” Bodman protested, trying to roll over and go back to sleep.
“Fall out,” the PO said, sharply. “Now.”
Joel rolled off his bunk and pulled on his clothes. The wind was still strong but the ship seemed to be riding better.
“What are we doing?” he asked.
“The damned dragons had as much trouble last night as the rest of the crew,” Singhisen said, shaking her head. “We’re going to go get their compartment cleaned out.”
“Oh, fisking joy,” Bodman whined. “Why can’t the riders do it?”
“Because there’s only two that ain’t officers,” the petty officer explained as if talking to a small child. “And officers don’t clean up shit and piss. It ain’t their job.”
“Join the Navy,” Bodman complained as they made their way forward. “Join the adventure.”
Fortunately they didn’t have to make their way on deck and the dragon deck was almost uncomfortably warm.
Singhisen had gotten more than just the two of them and there was a group of deck-apes waiting in the wyvern deck when they arrived.
“Okay, McKerlie. Take your team and man the hose pumps. Mbonu, your people are on the outfall pump; you know how to operate it?”
“Yes, PO,” the lead seaman said, waving her group over to the pump that was at the forward end of the compartment.
“Annibale, Bodman, you handle the hoses,” she continued, waving around the room. “We need to get these decks rinsed down. Then we’ll swab everywhere but in the occupied cages. Then we rinse ’em down again.”
“Thanks PO,” one of the riders said, coming to the aft of the compartment. “I’m getting my riders up here; we’ll try to keep the wyverns from taking anybody’s arm off.”
“Is that a real problem?” Singhisen asked.
“I dunno,” the rider said, shaking his head. “They’re not in the best of moods.”
Joel unreeled the hose and set to work as the deck-apes pumped. The… material on the floor was unpleasantly solid and splashed when the salt water hit it, throwing chunks of material around the compartment. He had to get down to a low angle to get it moved and that tended to splash more onto him. He’d wondered why the two stewards were doing the, relatively, lighter job of using the hose but he decided quickly that it was the worse of the two evils. Score one for the deck-apes.
The material did move, though, sloshing back and forth and forming an ugly puddle at the forward end of the compartment as the team there pumped it out. The riders were sliding around in it, moving from cage to cage and trying to calm the hissing wyverns. One of the latter got a muzzle through and took a swipe at him as he was spraying under the edge of the cage, trying to get a lodged chunk of… something sort of greenish yellow, worked free. The female rider, who had sergeant stripes instead of a PO’s chevrons, whapped it on the nose and it pulled back into its cage. He gave the sergeant a nod, washed the chunk of… whatever loose and kept spraying.