Accounts in the W.O. harbor

It had been only a few short hours since they arrived in the Warlock Orders waters, and a dry dock was in store for them. Following Traffic Control, they docked and the crew assembled above deck for debriefing, which would be short.

"Gentlemen. One ship against four with air support usually does not yield results as spectacular as what we had accomplished. Not only did we score a surface to air kill, but three of the Alliances gunboats now rest in silence in the proverbial Davy Jones' locker. I know that whatever it was that struck us hit us hard, but the fourteen men who died.....I'll not tell you that they didn't die in vain. I'll tell you nothing of their deaths except that they are no longer with us."

"I don't know how many of you have the stamina for this. Should any of you not wish to accompany me on the next run, I'll have no qualms about signing your transfers. This war is far from over, and far from pretty. Some people call me suicidal, some people call me dedicated, some people even call me fanatical. Maybe I'm a smattering of each within this mortal shell. I don't know, but I'll tell you this. I'm far from letting those Alliance sons-a-bitches get away with messing up my boat. Are you with me?!"

His bellow, that gravelly basso like thunder on the wind roused a cry from the remaining eighty-four healthy crewmen, a cry the likes of which was animalistic, focused, and entirely dangerous. Time and time again those words were screamed, "Are...you...with...me?" and time and time again the crew would respond in increasingly louder bestial warcries. Raising his hand once more, Parrish spoke....

"Now men. Get some very well deserved rest. Ten-HUT! Crew dismissed!"

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Hours later in his quarters, he'd been debriefed himself. A knock upon his door, and the repair manifest came. He had two choices, wait teh necessary time for the caterpillar drive to be overhauled, or go out with no sonar stealth.

It seems that whatever happened to their propellors had left them with only the caterpillar. The problem came in the over-usage at extreme depths. Not only had the intake coils warped under the pressure, but the control servo had basically fused once it was shut down in the harbor. Complete repair list.....he simply looked at the numbers......

1) Multiple hairline stress fractures in sectors H5-003 through H5-007. Five new plates would be needed to replace the damaged ones, or they wouldn't survive under five hundred feet.

2) Equalizing valves distended due to rapid firing of high exit velocity torpedoes.

3) Internal fracturing of ballast lines.

4) Propeller housing warped.

5) Caterpillar servo burned out.

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He tossed the papers down exasperatedly. He'd have to oversee the repairs himself, that much was certain. What was uncertain, however, was the amount of time he had to accomplish them in. Time was most definitely not on his side.


((OOC: Alright, next step. It will take time to fully repair the Marauder, but I do have a question. If Parrish didn't fire his torpedoes at the Cruiser, what was it that he fired them at? According to George, the Cruiser was there. So out of the myriad of shocktroops and six torpedoes, the M.A. lost three gunboats. Correct? Plus one Seaplane. I would honestly think that if the Cruiser was not there, neither was the seaplane, in which case, some amendments to the Marauder thread will be needed. George, Darren, let me know. Play Ball.))