Log:Lectures with Meaning

Lectures wtih Meaning

OOC Date: December 23, 2015
Location: Resistance Base - Tarmac
Participants: Nym Landala, R2-R4

The Tarmac of the Resistance Base doesn't have too many people at the moment. Most are taking some much deserved time off or relaxing in the rec room. Nym, however, is not. She's underneath one of the X-Wings, coveralls over her clothes to protect against grease stains and oil. Her face - today at least - is clear of the dirt. A small spanner is in her hands and she's pointing to various parts of the ship before looking over her shoulder at Artie. "This part? This one?"

The ever-faithful R2 unit is never far from Nym's side, and today is no exception as it it but an arm's reach from the young Naboo pilot. "No, that's the secondary coolant injector. I said it's behind the auxiliary powerbus cable. Go up." Artie instructs his companion, trying to keep her from a repeat of the coupling unit disaster last night, before it lets out a long, quiet tone like a frustrated sigh.

Luckily for Nym, unluckily for Artie, his closeness comes in handy. The short pilot uses his curved dome to push herself upwards and back behind the powerbus cable. Once she's finally able to get her head in there she looks around and releases her grip on Artie. "I'm up! I'm up! I still don't see it, though. They all just look like the same wires. Red, blue, green? Big, small?" Her own frustrated sigh almost sounds similar to Artie's. How can she not see it?

R2-R4 clearly did not believe that it had been designed for any manner of hoisting, physical support, or step-stool shenanigans and this displeasure was voiced thoroughly through an even more annoyed tonal tirade. It was mostly unintelligle grumbling coupled with, "I am not a ladder" and "She's going to be the death of me" before settling down and resigning to his fate. "Honestly, it's like you forgot everything when you got here. You know what it looks like, it's the only black cable thicker than your index and middle finger stamped with an electrical hazard sign!"

"You're the one that keeps saying I've got to use my surroundings," Nym looks down through the various wires and metal and smirks at Artie. "And you can always go back to Naboo, you know." It's mostly bluffing, she would be most upset if Artie ever left. "Dad is the one that usually did this stuff," she sighs. "I usually handed him his tools and got in the wa---aha!" Seeing the hazard sign, she pulls herself up and perches on part of the landing gear. "Got it! Okay, so I just reroute the power and then strip the covering, right? That should get me right into it."

Her snide comment did little more than exasperate the droid even further, likely the intended purpose. Either way, Artie focused on the conversation as it peered up at Nym while she worked, rolling to the side for a better vantage point in order to do so."If you used your head as much as your mouth, this would be second nature to you and we would already be done." The R2 retorted sharply, ignoring the bit about going back to Naboo. Even if the idea were remotely appealing, Artie would never abandon Nym, and that was disregarding the promise to her father.

"That's right. With the main power cable disabed, you should take the time to clean the forward mounted cannons as well." Tacking on more 'friendly' workload suggestions was its main method of annoying Nym, aside from its constant talking down to her about anything related to piloting and engineering.

"If it was second nature to me, we wouldn't have to be practicing it," Nym replies primly. Leaning forward, she starts the process of disabling the power so that she can start rewiring properly. While it's somewhat slow going, she's able to do so without electrocuting herself. Then comes the tedious process of splitting and patching the new wiring in. Artie's offer that they should clean the forward mounted canons is met with a deep sigh. "This is already going to take me forever." But, she doesn't say she's not going to do it. This is what she came here to do, after all. After a moment, she adds, "If we're going to do that, would you grab me the cleaning stuff? It's on the other table."

R2-R4 had already begun wheeling his way to one of the modular workbenches by the time Nym had asked him for the cleaner; It seemed like he expected her to not refuse, or he had planned on making her do it regardless of her initial response. Reaching his destination, it was a simple matter of angle and an extended 'arm' from his chassis. Unlike the scomp interface link that was designed specifically for second degree droids to access the data of computers and consoles on installations and ships, this one had a grappling claw for picking up just about anything that weighed under twenty five pounds and had a surface area to grip. Such was used to collect the necessary can and lug it back over towards the X-wing. R2-R4 says, "Hence my point about you not using your head enough, lady."

Nym puts the spanner between her teeth as she continues the delicate job of splicing and rewiring. She has to keep them all separate as well as remember which strands connected to which so when she welds them back together again they all line up properly. She doesn't have the concentration to quip at him immediately. It takes her quite a few minutes of not talking before she retrieves a small torch from her belt and welds everything carefully back together. Retrieving the spanner, she grins at the green colored droid. "I use my head a lot more than you give me credit for, Artie. Just 'cause you were with the Rebellion before I was born doesn't mean you know //everything//."

R2-R4 retorted with an indignant sounding tone. "Unlike ee, I too beep existence *cackle* click that was click beep boop ee ee too, boop, and too, boop click about beep, beep beep *cackle* boop to beep beep click." He'd boasted as it sat underneath and watched Nym work so intently. "Also unlike organics, I never forget these things on my own. I don't need years of practice and tutoring. it takes a fifteen minute maintanenance protocol with a datachip for me to be up to date with the latest on these subjects, ensuring that I will forever remain relevant. If I am harsh on you and tell you that you need to do these things again and again, it's because I want you to be safe, and I need you to be so confident that these things seem as simple as drawing breath if I want to bring you home to your father alive. You want to be the best, you have to learn from something that is made to be the best. I served with many brave men and women during the Rebellion, many of which died to bring peace to the galaxy. I know what war is like and I know what the battles ahead of us are going to be like, and it's my responsibility to prepare you for it, even if it's something you can never truly understand until you're in the thick of it fighting for your life. But with my help and your skill, you'll make it back to Naboo, if you take this seriously."

Setting the cable back into place, Nym hops down off the landing gear and slips the spanner into her tool belt. While she was grinning before, her face sets into something more serious and determined as Artie speaks. She doesn't interrupt him, nor does she look like she's about to dismiss his speech with a flippant comment as she's been doing almost nonstop.

"I know, Artie. I am taking this seriously. Believe me. I've seen what this is actually about. It's more than just the stories and flying with dad on Naboo. //This// is where I belong and I'm going to prove it." Her voice is soft, but filled with passion. A hand reaches out to pat his dome. "And you're going to help me." Finally, that smirk reappears. "Apparently whether I like it or not."

"Even when I drag you out to the hangar in the dead of night while every other pilot is still asleep just to run over the basics for the hundredth time that week." Artie would declare, pleased that she seemed to absorb his impassioned speech and draw from it. He would lift his grappler arm with the can of cleaner up towards his co-pilot and friend for her to take.

At that statement, Nym groans. Just because she's agreed to this doesn't mean she has to like all the steps along the way. "Even if," she agrees, though she sounds much more like her young self again. She takes the cleaner from his grappling arm and moves to go clean the turrets as instructed. "Thanks, Artie."