Chapter 7

The time passed with the Crypt at some time frantically arranging their lives to visit yards and ships. To talk with the people directly involved often meant accompanying a ship on its shake-down cruise post major overhaul interspersed with visits to the Naval Architects for exchange of ideas. The Architects' wing became the second home for the Crypt.

The various attachments meant repetitious contact with Sir Laurence Hernandes' office to get the necessary paperwork. The informal visits to the yards usually presented no problems except for the occasional hiccough over clearance as the Crypt had only Green Card entry. Requests from Captain Rowan as head of section for manuals and handbooks almost always circumvented the rare encounters with Security.

Sir Laurence's staff nicknamed McCock and his minions "The Cockerel and his Flock" because of the sometimes ruffled feathers left behind by the somewhat socially inept individuals of the Crypt. The Crypt continued to be used by third floor but the "Cockeral" stuck elsewhere.

McCock's personal skills rapidly developed as he smoothed ruffled feathers, egos, and pride which surfaced from time to time. McCock had, with Rowan's permission, taken to wearing RMN work coveralls with only his Grenoble rank bars on his shoulder flaps. He even messed with the POs as this didn't require change of uniform which might have raised protests to a greater height of 'spying' / 'interfering with ships crew going about their proper duty'.

The Room 3001 meetings defending the proposals became legendary in the Bureau. They were chaired by Rowan with the Crypt clustered at the other end. The top of the table was always covered with a hologram of the part under discussion – better called arguments. On one side sat the "yard" experts which included the Architects' representatives, and on the other sat the "users" group – serving fleet officers – never less than full Commanders.

"You can't use that universal spanner or what ever you call it on the cool air control of that environmental plant because there is not enough space between the racks and, no, you can't put another design in there because this was developed to fit the available space."

"How about an extension tube for the square?"

"That'll work."

"Buts that's a 'special' and I hate that. You know damned well that some idiot will grab it to use elsewhere and not bring it back and when you really need the bloody thing it ain't there."

"We could chain it."

"And there'll always be some fool who'll cut the chain etc, etc."

"There's a limit to how far you can fool proof things."

"OK, we accept a chained special with a clip frame to hold it out of the way?"

General nods.

"Why not recessed ends otherwise you'll get people cut and bruised."

"If it's damaged the recessed cover could foul access – it's a trade off."

"We'd better make sure we've got a good first aid box in the space otherwise there'll be a steady stream of skivers off to the Sick Bay all the time."

"What about the sensor at..."

At the end of the day, Rowan pushed the debris away from him,

"We'll agree this amended lot goes to the Architects?"

Nods all around.

Quiet murmuring broke out as the members closed down the PDAs and stretched cramped limbs. The senior fleet officer – a Rear Admiral – stopped by the exhausted and haggard Crypt.

"Despite us, that was a job well done," he congratulated them. "Who's next on your agenda?"

Cowboy Indira succinctly replied "Weapons".

"Hah!! and you think we're prima donnas" departing with an evil grin towards the slumping Crypt.