Chapter 37: Can Frack Hold His Temper?
The group went down the ladderway at best possible speed without tripping, which was annoyingly slow to most of the ponies, but they knew why. Near the foot of the stairs they found a zebra lying on the floor with two obvious broken legs and a ginger tabby Abyssinian wearing a lab coat and shirt, both loose on his slender frame. “Whatcha you be do down here, eh? Who are you?” the Abyssinian asked in New York-accented fractured English.
“Doctor Moscone, I’m the Third. The rest are visitors from another ship nearby. Where’s the fire?” Third Officer Haugen snapped.
The doctor waved an arm aft. “Switchboards. Snapping and cracking from there, plus smoke. How we get Larry Kabila up to Sickbay, eh? I no can carry him! Got any ideas, Marge?” he said to the Third.
Frack stepped forward. “I do. Third, you’re a unicorn. So is my big brother. YOU can lift this fellow here and keep him stable all the way back up, but it’s going to take a lot of mental effort the first time. Are you up to some quick coaching from a know-it-all who doesn’t?” he snapped at the unicorn.
John came forward as well. “I’ve been teaching some unicorn colts and fillies now for several months. If you listen and pay attention, we can get out of this mess. Think you can?” he asked in gentler tones.
Marge made up her mind fast. “First, let me survey this fire scene. Then, help me call Control. After that, I will listen to how to lift the oiler, Deacon. Follow me.” she said bluntly as she walked aft, Frack and Bernie accompanying, the rest waiting with the doctor.
“Hey! She say youse a deacon? Catolico?” the doctor asked.
“That I am, Doctor. John Doyle, formerly Deacon of the Basilica of Saint Michael the Archangel in Pensacola, Florida. Pleased to meet you,” John said, holding out a forehoof, which the doctor shook.
“Mama mia… lot going on here,” the doctor muttered in Italian.
“You better believe it,” John whispered in Latin, which was close enough to modern Italian to pass muster.
Farther aft, Marge led Frack and Bernie to a bank of electrical switchboards, one of which had some smoke wafting out of the louvers. She looked over the scene and came to a quick decision. “Help me with the intercom. I have to call Control to shut this bus down,” she said brusquely.
Frack went to the intercom and removed the handset from its clip with a wingtip. “Which number to dial?” he asked.
“One-one,” Marge replied, to which Frack punched in the number and held the phone to Marge’s ear.
Three rings, then the phone was picked up on the other end. “Control. Report.” Captain Haugen said quickly.
“Captain, Third. De-energize the One Romeo Fox switchboard. Short circuits developing inside. Will need to go in and find problems,” Marge reported.
“De-energize One Romeo Fox, aye. We’ll have some time to get it fixed, but not much,” the captain said before he moved the phone away from his head, and Marge could only hear indistinct noises until there were two thumps from the bus panel she was standing at. “One Romeo Fox bus de-energized. Do you need fire suppression systems activated?”
“Negative, Control. One cee-oh-two should do it, if one can be brought to bear,” Marge said.
Bernie quick-stepped to where one was mounted on the bulkhead, deftly unbuckled it with her wingtips and carried it to the scene. Marge pointed to where she wanted the gas and stepped back, along with Frack. Several blasts of the cold gas put paid to whatever was smoldering in there. “Thank you, Miss Verstappen. Now, Mister Larsen, please explain how I could possibly lift Mister Kabila and carry him up several flights of stairs without damaging him further or causing pain?” she asked, a faint hint of sarcasm coming to her voice, which Frack was very quick to pick up on.
Frack stopped, his hooves stomping on the deck plates, his wings flaring. “Now you just listen up here, Miss Third Officer Marge Haugen! You are fully capable of doing just that. I am going to do my best to teach you how to get started in this, because I watched Frick struggle through doing so, AND a bunch of foals in Pensacola, one of which is only nine, yet she can lift twice her body weight and carry said weight a good hundred yards or so in any direction before having to move to keep it in range! Now, if she can do it, what’s your damn excuse, recruit?” he bellowed, not bothering to hide his anger.
As Marge, her eyes wide in surprise, attempted to answer, Frack snapped, “And don’t you tell me it’s impossible, because I know damn well it IS possible! Focused magic can be devastating! I watched as Frick used an absolutely antique cap and ball pistol to reduce a cragadile to purple chalk dust! You better listen up and listen well if you don’t want your crewman to be crippled for life!”
Marge lowered her head, closing her eyes, her nose almost to the deckplates. “I will try, Mister Larsen. Nothing comes before the health and well-being of my crew,” she said quietly, her ears fully down and back.
Frack lowered his wings. “Much better, Miss Haugen. Now, let us get back to the others, okay? It’s easier when you have something to work on, to judge your own progress,” he said in much milder tones.
As Marge nodded and started walking, Bernie said quietly to Frack, “Glad you keep that whoop-ass tucked away until needed.”
“Only when I have to, love. Only when I have to.”
That evening, after the Fugro maneuvered alongside the Polar Princess and some temporary crew-swapping was done to train the Princess’ crew how to adapt to their new forms in a minimal way, minimal being defined as ‘learning how to manipulate what one has to with what appendages one has’, the two captains sat in Captain Skinner’s cabin, on a video conference call with the other captains of the WSU, Prateek and Lorelei.
“Captain Haugen, we think it would be best for your ship to lay over in Havana until your crew becomes more comfortable with your new forms. Once that happens, we want you to go to our repair facilities in Belfast to have your ship fitted out with items and controls better suited to your new forms than your old ones,” Captain Prateek said over a cup of Darjeeling.
“I can agree to that, Captain Prateek,” Vannevar replied, holding a cup of Coke with ice in his ice-blue glow. “It will give us some time to adapt and learn. Captain Frick has given us copies of all the downloads he has about what life is like today, and a few days in port to go over everything will help a lot. I will admit to some unease about going to Cuba, but I have been assured by many sources it is okay to do so. Maybe I can trade some of my cargo for fresh supplies and topping off our bunkers.”
“Don’t let Eduardo gouge you too much on supplies. A little is fine, but too much is too much,” Lorelei counseled.
“I’ll remember that, Captain. My thanks,” Vannevar said before sipping.
“How long do you want me to remain here, Dilip? Should I accompany the Princess across the Atlantic or not?” Edgar asked.
“Depends on one thing. Captain Haugen, can your ship and crew be ready to sail from Havana one week from today, destination Belfast, pacing the Fugro?” Dilip asked.
“If I can be allowed to poach from the passengers aboard to supplement my crew, Captain. Some of them have already started on repairs, and having hands, er, hooves aboard who can use what they have will be a help. Even some of the children will be of help. Some are sharp enough to at least be cadets,” Vannevar said without hesitating.
“If you, Edgar and Frick agree on your aides, with input from Deacon Doyle, you will have my blessing on it. It will be good to add another ship to the fleet. I won’t ask you right now about joining. Read the information, talk to Edgar, and give me your decision when I get back to Maasvlakte. Edgar, accompany Captain Haugen and his ship to Havana, get them trained and fixed up, then head to Belfast. It’s late here in the Eastern Med,” Dilip said. “Call me when something important happens. Better yet, call Lorelei, and she can decide to call me.”
“Sounds like an idea to me, Dilip. You get some shut-eye while Lorelei and I have a few more words,” Edgar said.
“Just stay tuned for more news when there is news, right, Captains?” Vannevar managed to say with a straight muzzle.
“So says the reindeer with the news who wouldn’t be news without the news?” Lorelei snorted, which made the Captains smile.
“Well said, Lorelei. Good night, all,” Dilip said before his part of the screen went black.
“I didn’t know anyone remembered Laugh-In,” Vannevar said.
“I first heard that back when I was a cadet. Don’t know where Chief Majiska first heard it, but it’s stuck with me for years.” Lorelei said.
“I watched Laugh-In in reruns when I was a kid. Just thinking about the sketches brings a laugh to me, whenever I need one and remember to remember,” Vannevar replied.
“All that aside, Lorelei, I just want your opinion on something. Do you think it is time for Captain Haugen to inspect his cargo for any possible trade value?” Edgar brought up.
“By all means, do so. I know there won’t be any additional cargo coming out of Havana for a while, because we already have it and production speeds are slow. The Polar Princess’ cargo may be her lifeline for some time yet to come. How much of a load do you have, Captain Haugen?” Lorelei asked.
“Just over half, fifty-seven percent capacity, about a third of that refrigerated or frozen. Corporate had us on a speed run from Tampa to New York. Not like we ever always know what we’re hauling, right?” Vannevar replied, kicking back a bit in his chair.
“Not like the charterers are around any more to receive their cargoes, right?” Lorelei said with an impish look on her face. “It’s late here, and I need some sleep. Call me tomorrow afternoon your time and we’ll see how things are going.”
“Sounds good, Lorelei. Until the morrow, eh?” Edgar said before disconnecting. He then turned his attention to Captain Haugen. “How are things lookin’ on your ship, Van?”
“I have reason to hope. Captain Frick has taken my unicorns for basic lessons while he fixes the 1RF panel, Mister Fred has tended to my injured, so I have two of them back now, and Mister Kabila next week, Mister Frack is giving beginning flight lessons to my winged folk, Deacon Jones and Mister Fred have offered counseling to those who want it, and I have had no crew members go postal,” Van said as he stood up from his chair and stretched some. “Next order of business, learn how to sit right!”
“I’ve heard that more than once, Van,” Edgar said as he got up as well. “Shall we head down to the galley for dinner?”
“Now, I have to say that’s a good idea,” Van said in agreement. “I’m just glad Miz Frieda is helping my lead cook determine which diet is good for each species.”
“She is good in the galley. She’s taught my cook a few things. Never thought corn bread could be so good!” Edgar admitted as he led the way down to the Fugro’s mess deck.
Aboard the Polar Princess, Captain Frick had the four unicorns gathered around him. The Third Officer Margaret Haugen, the Second Engineer Jensen Smith, the refrigeration specialist Mark Minetti, and the assistant cook Jamie Quinn watched intensely, their own horns glowing faintly as Frick used his brilliant purple glow to unscrew the cover on the panel, exposing the buswork.
“Now, you all watched me validate the bus is de-energized before I opened it. Jensen, you know this full well. Mike, you should know it. Marge, Jamie, engrave this into your brains- when you go to work on electrical equipment, make sure it is not only shut off, do your damndest to make sure it won’t come on while you’re in it! It’s a shocking experience, and I really don’t know how much your magic will shield you. So, preplan!” Frick lectured.
“Now, with the covers off, what can you see inside? Jensen, Mark, if this happened when you had hands, this would have been your job. Seeing what you do now, how do you plan on fixing it?” Frick asked.
Jensen, a pale blue furred unicorn with a red and white blurry-striped mane, spoke up. “Smoke was seen coming out from the panel. First thing to do is to look around and see where the smoke came from,” he said, his New England accent prominent. “From what I see, somehow, that bus connection came loose and started sparking. All we really need to do is clean off the connection and bolt it back into place.”
Mark, a dark gray unicorn with blonde mane and tail, agreed. “Inspect the other connections, yes, but that one is standing out. Do that first, and check around for other issues,” he said.
Frick nodded. “Not bad, both of you. Now, without hands, how will you operate your tools?” he asked before tapping his horn. “I see all of you have understood my lesson on how to turn your horns on. Now, I’m going to teach you how to use it.
“To do this basic, innate magic, you have to rely on visualizations. You have to ‘see’ yourself doing whatever you want to do,” he lectured as a purple glow covered the tool box and opened the lid. “Some unicorns visualize hands, others find their own way. Now, I want each of you to reach into the box and pick up a tool. Any tool will do. I just want to prove to you that you CAN do this. Everything else is refinements on the basics.”
Frick and crew spent three hours working on the damaged buswork, taking a good six times as long as it could have, but he was taking the time for all the new unicorns to practice manipulating tools and equipment. He even threw in some procedural errors, to see if the trainees would catch them, and they all did.
At the same time, Frack, Bernie and Renee had all the pegasi, the lone thestral, griffins and hippogriffs up on the main deck forward of the container stacks, for flight lessons, which Frack conducted in his usual fashion. Meaning, he made R. Lee Ermey look like a mama’s boy. Each being got personalized instruction until Frack was convinced they could get into the air and back on the ground (okay, deck) without breaking something. His methods had the desired results, but there’s always someone in the bunch who tries to get fancy and pays the price.
The victim this time was Sonya Mills, the teenage deck cadet. The black and tan pegasus tried a glide in and over the guard rails, but a gust of wind came up and pushed her down. Her forelegs clipped the guard rails, causing her to go splat into the deck.
Frack, as lead instructor, didn’t hesitate. Getting to Sonya, he called out “Get Frick or Foster out here, along with Fred. We need to get her to sickbay!” Blood was coming out of both of Sonya’s nostrils at a slow pace.
Chief Cranston didn’t hesitate, putting out the all-call for Foster and Fred to report to the scene. As they waited, Renee looked at the assembled flyers, a glare in her eyes and disapproval radiating from her. “All of you, lesson learn from this!” she snapped in her admittedly fractured English. Get into air, know how. Get down from air, know how some. Try do something fancy, STUPID!”
“What she said,” Frack growled as Foster and Fred arrived on scene, deliberately making their hoofbeats loud so others would clear the way.
Fred touched Sonya with a hoof while Foster got his first-aid kit out of his saddlebag. “Broken nose, moderate concussion. Foster, need your help to align her nose right before I heal it.” he said.
“Right,” Foster grunted as his gold aura reached from his horn to Sonya’s muzzle, bringing everything back into alignment.
“Hold it there, sealing now,” Fred said as his white glow intensified. The fallen pegasus shivered, but did not wake up. “Okay, let’s get her to Sickbay and wait for the Doctor.”
“On it, Fred,” Foster said as he picked up the black and tan pegasus. Once off the deck, the white unicorn and blue earth pony made their way aft, between the containers to the superstructure.
Frack got up himself, his face in a scowl. Renee knew what was coming. She moved herself BEHIND the red pegasus. “Everyone! In formation, right here, right now!” he shouted, pointing to the deck in front of him. All the fliers did so, most of them looking sheepish. The only one who didn’t was Chief Cranston, but he knew what was coming. He had delivered many a lecture himself.
Once everyone was assembled, Frack let loose. “Everywing here, listen up! Today was your first lesson in learning how to get up and down! This does not qualify you to do any damn fool stunts like what Sonya tried to pull! There is a whole lot you do NOT know yet, and stupid moves like that will ensure you won’t live long enough to learn the best parts of having wings! Now, the lot of you, give me twenty laps of the ship, between the deck and the pilothouse in altitude, counterclockwise! Now, DO IT!” he bellowed. The flock didn’t hesitate.
“Personal log, stardate 1607.14 1100 hours, Captain Frick recording.
“The Fugro Symphony and Polar Princess are now approaching Havana Harbor, where we will lay over until next Tuesday. We won’t be sitting idle, though. Many of us passengers will be working on the Princess, to make it more hoof and claw friendly. The kids can either help us or spend time on the farming commune, learning about life on a farm. Many of the kids are receptive to the idea.
“On the trip to Belfast, some of us are going to transfer to the Princess to work with the crew on this first long-duration sail. Captain Skinner is willing to be within close sailing distance from the Princess, but out of easy visual sight. Training aid both captains came up with. I agree with it. Can’t have the Princess’ crew become dependent on others.
“Of us here on the Fugro, Frack, Bernie, Foster, myself, Renee Noir, John Doyle, Tina Kovacs and Harry Bell will transfer to the Princess to act as teachers, guides, mentors, counselors, and in Harry Bell’s case, he is going to inventory the cargo units aboard the Princess. Hey, he’s a storekeeper, and that’s right up his alley. He expects to have refrigerated stores completely surveyed before reaching Belfast. I believe him.
“Time for me to head to lunch before pulling in. I have some work to check on here in Havana, mainly the antenna we installed last week. I’ve come up with an idea or two to improve performance. Until my next entry, Captain Frick out.”
Frick saved his log entry in the file with all of his other ones into his tablet and laptop. He planned on giving Sandra at the WSU his raw logs for condensing down into a podcast tentatively titled ‘If I Can Do It, So Can You!’, a project for when all this traveling will be done and over with. But now, lunch.
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10740330
I love me some Sezme Street.
Welcome to the Frack and Ermy show. Today, you Will be a little ducky.
nope not even a little bit. he is trying to keep new people alive and just like the military you have to beat the stupid out of them.
a awesome chapter and with this many refrigerated containers i expect there to be some good finds.
“Put that in your Funk & Wagnalls!”
11152125
gives you the Flying Fickle Finger of Fate award