Henry had spent the morning doing background tasks, such as fixing the armours from the training a few days back. It dawned on him that he'd become an unofficial armourer, but he liked the challenge that fixing fixable damage could yield.
He took sips of brandy whilst looking at the new shipment of armours that'd come in.
He'd found poorly placed limb servos, wrong concentrations of oil to lubricant, and thin armour plates in vital areas amongst other flaws which get are supposed to ironed out in extensive testing.
He tutted the bimbos who'd put Hydraulics meant for the legs into the arms of an Aggressor. If used, it'd probably lead to metal fatigue, and breakage - which would be a beyond horrible situation in a battlefield - especially against the Mishhu.
"Excuse me," Henry asked for a representative to come forward. Two female reps attempted to move forward, but one came along quicker and greeted the technician.
"Yes, sir?" The lady in a NAM uniform replied, looking down at Henry's handiwork. She was a blonde who looked to be in her early twenties, free of obvious cybernetics, like most Nepleslian women were. She was also a bit top heavy.
The engineer held up the offending piece.
"I see you're inspecting the inner workings of our Aggressor?" The representative asked politely, leaning forward, making Henry lean away.
"A top of the line armour, sir," A friend of hers added.
"Indeed, now tell me, where do these hydraulics connect to, and what concentration of oil to lubricant do they use, along with radius in millimetres and pounds-per-square inch this puts forward?"
She looked over to a couple of working colleagues, looking for an answer. They made glances and shrugs amongst themselves.
That's when sirens blared, as he looked away, and realised that there was something that needed doing, and by the sound of it, something big.
"Hold that thought. I want you and the rest of the ladies to reassemble these suits - correctly," Henry told the lone representative in a calm, demanding tone as he handed the hydraulics to the representative, "That servo goes to the legs, with a thirty-one to eleven oil to lube concentrate used. The rest is printed on the damn cylinder!"
He then looked over to Chief Ran as he came barging in, "Sir, the armours!" He tried to tell out as the Chief suited up, "They're ineffective at present!"
He took sips of brandy whilst looking at the new shipment of armours that'd come in.
He'd found poorly placed limb servos, wrong concentrations of oil to lubricant, and thin armour plates in vital areas amongst other flaws which get are supposed to ironed out in extensive testing.
He tutted the bimbos who'd put Hydraulics meant for the legs into the arms of an Aggressor. If used, it'd probably lead to metal fatigue, and breakage - which would be a beyond horrible situation in a battlefield - especially against the Mishhu.
"Excuse me," Henry asked for a representative to come forward. Two female reps attempted to move forward, but one came along quicker and greeted the technician.
"Yes, sir?" The lady in a NAM uniform replied, looking down at Henry's handiwork. She was a blonde who looked to be in her early twenties, free of obvious cybernetics, like most Nepleslian women were. She was also a bit top heavy.
The engineer held up the offending piece.
"I see you're inspecting the inner workings of our Aggressor?" The representative asked politely, leaning forward, making Henry lean away.
"A top of the line armour, sir," A friend of hers added.
"Indeed, now tell me, where do these hydraulics connect to, and what concentration of oil to lubricant do they use, along with radius in millimetres and pounds-per-square inch this puts forward?"
She looked over to a couple of working colleagues, looking for an answer. They made glances and shrugs amongst themselves.
That's when sirens blared, as he looked away, and realised that there was something that needed doing, and by the sound of it, something big.
"Hold that thought. I want you and the rest of the ladies to reassemble these suits - correctly," Henry told the lone representative in a calm, demanding tone as he handed the hydraulics to the representative, "That servo goes to the legs, with a thirty-one to eleven oil to lube concentrate used. The rest is printed on the damn cylinder!"
He then looked over to Chief Ran as he came barging in, "Sir, the armours!" He tried to tell out as the Chief suited up, "They're ineffective at present!"
