Participants:
| Scene Title | A New Career Path |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Meg's had a few days out on Staten now, and she's got some thoughts to run by the boss. |
| Date | May 31, 2009 |
Camp Miller, Staten Island
Its not entirely clear when Fedor had showed up, he sort've came and went. Sometimes he'd get out, sometimes he wouldnt. As a general rule, when he was at "the barn" he'd fly medivac as it came in and take care of trips to the island the rest of the time. It keeps Fedor busy, and unintentionally pretty damned tough to get ahold of most of the day. Right now though, theres shit to deal with on the island. One of the KA-32s had been plagued by electrical gremlins for weeks, and only yesterday it had been released for flight. Then this morning, the pilot went to turn her over and every single electrical joint in the whole god damned bird is totally dead. Splendid.
With the KA-32's rotors folded, and then pushed into the hangar its pretty easy to forget its there. Inside the barn though, its hell on earth for Fedor and one of the engineers. The two of them had successfulyl removed every single panel, chair and cover in the whole aircraft and had begun to pile shit on the floor as the two just began stripping the entire bird to her bare airframe. The kamovs were tough fuckers, this was the first real problem they'd had with any of them since they bought the whole lot of them which was really saying something. The Bell 412s were down for maint like every other week, but all save one of the Kamovs had been running like a top. So nobody was willing to just try to jerry rig it to get the chpper back to the main facility.
Fedor was brave, he was a fearless pilot but he wasnt stupid. He nor was any other pilot eager to fly the kamov from hell, so here he was. Screw gun in one hand, cigar in the other. "Yeah I hear you but this totally cant be a grounding issue. We would just get the buzzer and main electrical alarm, its got to be a major line somewhere. Somone shot a screw or a bolt through a big high voltage wire somewhere, and its shorting everything out. This thing's been a god damned death trap since we got it."
The engineer, who was working with a multimeter and a flask just shook his head. "Dude, its a grounding issue. I'm certain of it."
She knows nothing about helicopters and airplanes except where to strap into them and where gear is stowed, and Megan's not fool enough to touch ANYTHING they've got on the floor because you know what? People who tinker with vehicles are very particular about their tinkering. "Hello the helo," she calls from the ground, her hands shoved into the pockets of a pair of olive-drab cargo pants. She's once more dressed to take a food run out into the island, but she'd like to speak to Kobrin first. "Mr. Kobrin, you got your head stuck in there?"
"I got more than my he-…christ is Jake here?"Fedor pops his head out of the little side door, certain Jake was around to carve that into some lewd joke."Good."he offers with a sage nod, before turning his attention to Megan. "Yeah what can I do for you?"He slips back inside, only to emerge from another door a second later. Puffing iritably at his cigar, though this is clearly not directed at Megan mind you. "Damn thing's busted."he explains.
There's a faint grin. "I gathered that," Megan replies mildly. "I wanted to talk to you about some of what we're seeing out there on the ground. And about …. whether you're interested in or even considering expanding the operations you're running for relief." She doesn't seem in the least put off by either the cigar or his attitude. There's just something about military men — they're always a little rougher around the edges than most other people. "I couldn't go out there and hand out food and blankets without also doing what I do…. and I've run four runs out there now, and there is a huge need for a clinic here. Now…. your guy Kevin seems to be attempting to recruit people to come out here to do just that — open a clinic — but I think it may be a little ambitious to try it right now. Not until we're established. With what I'm already seeing out there …. we're gonna get hit. And it's not gonna be all that long. Jake Hunter said he could get me some better meds and supplies than are in the basic first aid kits…. I need antibiotics, suture kits, those kind of things. But I figured I better run the idea past you on bringing antibiotics in."
Fedor nods "I dont mind drugs, if you want them you got them. I dont want them in the vans though, I want them held in camp. We may need to add on or move the clinic into here. I mean we can just run a big divider down the miuddle and run the clinic out of one side and the airline part out of the other. Then, once we can grab a suitable building and security we'll move into a more conventional building. Is that fair?"Fedor's certainly not going to be difficult to dissuade. "We dont have anything heavier than riflemen on choppers right now, so we need to avoid firefights with narcosyndicates."
There's a faint grimace, and Megan nods immediately. "Probably a better plan than trying to hand them out there," she agrees. "I'm not sure the people who need it will come to this camp, though. They're already skittish… like taking the stuff we're bringing is going to get them into trouble. And I'm noticing that we've got observers at the back of the crowd sometimes as we're delivering food. If we start delivering medications, I'm pretty sure we'd be shot in a heartbeat."
She purses her lips and pauses before speaking again, her tone introspective. "You asked me to come out here for the soup vans… and I'm already finding myself sucked into a bigger project. I'm kicking around taking a leave of absence from St. Luke's," she admits, her gaze skimming away from him and over the hangar they stand in. "But I'm also only one person. I can't singlehandedly run a full-sized clinic."
"We cant afford to run a full sized clinic either, so I can hire you on but I can only give you our two flight nurses. Until we can get a better footing, is that going to be acceptable? When we can get bigger, you'll be the first to know about it but that may be a couple weeks."Fedor just nods, flicking a cigar butt aside with a slow smokey sigh.
Megan laughs. "I wasn't even thinking about going THAT far as yet, honestly. If you have a couple of flight nurses who can help run a basic clinic for injuries and illness a couple hours a day, that's about what I want to start with. Put the word out that if you're hurt or ill and need basic care, we're giving it freely." She looks back at him. "I'll let you know when I decide what I'm doing about St. Luke's. I like my work there, but …. honestly, this need seems more pressing with far fewer people doing the job." She grins a little. "I'll lose all my prestige or something, but … eh, I can walk into any ER in the world and get a job. This one? Kinda why I went in the service to start with — caring for soldiers and people in war zones. This seems to qualify about as well as any third-world country I've ever been in, don't you think?"
"I dunno, this place aint so bad. "Fedor nods, turning back to try and glare the Kamov back into working order."Its not a nice place, but I dunno I been worse places than this."He glances back with a wry little grin. "Feel free to put up a want ad for volunteers or something, I'll let you run it all by yourself. Will try and keep a BO-105 and stretcher on site for medivac too, alright?"
Megan tilts her head and looks at him. "Do you mind if I ask why you're willing to go to all this expense, Mr. Kobrin? Pure altruism is brutally rare in my experience," she says quietly.
Fedor hmms. "I'm a socialist, not a communist I'm a socialist. Everyone, absolutely everyone deserves their fair shot. No man or woman should suffer for lack of opportunity. If your lazy, if your an inherently evil person then fine go ahead and suffer."He shakes his head slowly. "These kids out here, they dont deserve any of this. These people, none of them chose this. We got worthless jackasses living over there, spending their parents money. Spending their lives away, when half these people are starving to death. They cant be bothered, to take care of their own people. Yaknow I'm Dutch, my parents dont even speak english. I dont even own a house here, I live in Alaska."He glances backward for a moment, eying Megan. "So, who the fuck am I to just watch? Good on the old man, good on him for letting us do this."
With a faint smile Megan merely nods, accepting the information at face value. "Fair enough," she tells him. "All right… I'll let you know if or when I'm ready to make a step sideways. I'm taking a caravan out in about half an hour to hit the back end of the route — we've been turned around off the back end the last two runs I've made, so I want to make a point to hit them tonight even if we don't hit the front end. It won't be more than a couple hours, though… I need some rack time. Pulling two twelves this weekend at St. Luke's on top of these runs."
"You do what you thinks best Megan, your the boss here. I just make the flights ok?"Fed offers a smile, before turning back to the Kamov.
"I found it, broken ground bolt. I told you, you fuckin pilot."comes the call from inside, the mechanic was right all along.
"Oh go fuck yourself."
Laughing at the boys and their toys, Meg lifts her hand in a wave. "Yeah, yeah… you're just a pilot. But you're the guy who asked me to come out here, so you're the guy who gets to sweat the details when I need a sounding board," she tells him with a smile. "Later." And she pivots on a heel of her combat boots and heads out toward the vans.